My formal training in piano stopped shortly after I completed my undergrad. I took a few graduate level courses at an international music school, but never ended up pursuing my master's degree. Yet, I have worked hard in the years since to maintain my skills and even to improve both technically and artistically. There were opportunities that presented themselves to me - like being offered the pianist position at my church and taking one-off lessons with a friend's teacher - and others that I intentionally pursued - like getting into the musical theater world and finding a community choir. But the thing that has grown me the most is something I never would have predicted: listening to myself play.
In 2018, my children were squarely in the grammar school phase and it occurred to me that I should try making a CD during the hours in which they were attending school. I'd recorded one before, with the help of friends who owned a small production studio, and we had recorded live tracks at a beautiful music center in the mountains. (Listen to that album here.) I'd also been a part of several live choral recording projects, so I was aware of the pressure to perform and the hyper-consciousness one enters when in such a situation. But I didn't want to record in a studio on someone else's instrument or even on a single day. My vision was to record on my own piano, in my own living room, over the course of weeks, taking a leisurely pace and listening to takes in between recording sessions.
Doesn't that sound fantastic? The reality was so much different (read more about that here). Between the piano developing weird clicks, airplanes roaring overhead, and the neighbors mowing their lawns, it was quite the experience! I learned a lot about self-recording and producing. But I learned a whole lot about myself as a pianist, too.
Listening to recordings of yourself is eye-opening and not for the faint of heart! The process of recording and my desire to share my music turned the heat up even more, and so for several months I scrutinized my playing ruthlessly. Everything was subjected to criticism, and I found myself asking, “What makes my playing different? What is my signature sound? How might I convey my personality and feelings about this music solely through sound? Who am I as an artist? What differentiates my sound from the thousands of existing recordings?”
The exercise was immensely stretching and so good for my playing. I became more concerned about accuracy, but also more intent on producing a beautiful tone. I wanted listeners to hear the shimmery top of my piano and feel like they were in my living room listening to one of my intimate house concerts.
In the end, the recording was far from perfect, and there are definitely things I would do differently a second time around. But it was mine. And I had emerged a better musician and pianist because of it. (Listen to the recording here.)
Why do I share all of this with you? Because too often we sit down and play the piano for the thrill of playing and we forget to listen to what we're producing. The physicality of playing is so absorbing that we forget to make music. Either we are facing technical challenges, or fingering difficulties, or odd leaps, or we're taking pride in how fast our fingers can fly and what kind of physical gymnastics we're capable of at the keyboard. It is so easy to forget about the sound. Even worse, when we are faced with a new piece of music, especially in a collaborative situation where we are playing for a choir, we get so hyper focused on playing the correct notes that we forget to breathe and sing the lines.
We have the incredible privilege of being musicians. Our goal is to make music. And the way we get there is to start listening.
In your playing this week, whether on your own or with a choir, I encourage you to listen intently to the sound you are making. Challenge yourself to be musical every time you sit down, even during a first reading. You will find that it makes the process so much more enjoyable, and your playing will be better because of it!
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