Dear Friends,
My good friend Stephen Pierce, who is on the piano faculty of the University of Southern California, sent me a recent opinion piece from the New York Times by concert pianist Jonathan Biss, called The Quest for Perfection is Stunting Our Society. (This gift article link will expire in 28 days; after that, you may be able to find it by searching the title and author.)
In this article, Biss highlights the tension between aspiring to play “perfectly” how that can interfere with the ability to perform with freedom and spontaneity. These two ideals can feel like they are in direct contradiction of one another: the pursuit of "perfection" can cause cautiousness, resulting in careful, unexpressive playing; whereas too much "freedom" can lead to sloppy or ill-considered performances.
This leads me to consider: What is the purpose of practice? What are we trying to do when we are sitting at the instrument and working? It’s tempting to say that we practice in order to perfectly replicate our ability to play something exactly the same way every time, with no wrong notes and no surprises. But if “no wrong notes” were actually the goal, I think we’d all be satisfied to listen to computers play technically accurate renditions of our favorite pieces.
In the article I referenced above, Biss writes:
A great performance is one in which the player has absorbed the music so deeply that their choices seem not like choices, but inevitabilities. This inevitability can and should change from performance to performance. The preparatory work should be freeing, not constricting, revealing and making accessible the music’s limitless possibilities.
In my work with university piano students, I often perceive that my students are afraid to play wrong notes, especially in lessons. The idea that practicing is preparatory work that allows for creative freedom in performance is revelatory to many students of the piano.
While it is important to technically master a piece, the purpose of doing so is not to be able to control every aspect of a performance. Rather, the point of all that work and practice is to get to know a piece so well that you have many options of how to play it, and you can respond in the moment in performance and express yourself without constraint.
Performing classical music is an interpretive art. Like actors, we work from a script (i.e., the musical score) and embody it, filtering it through our emotions and interpretation of what we see on the page. Each performer will necessarily bring their own interpretation to the role.
This idea – of learning how to express yourself through the music – is accessible to musicians at all levels; you don’t have to be a concert pianist like Jonathan Biss to develop these skills.
To that end, here are a few things you can try:
- Check out The Perfect Wrong Note by William Westney. It's a thought-provoking book that addresses this question of accuracy vs. artistry. Westney explores the difference between “honest mistakes” (the ones that give us feedback on where we need to focus our attention) and “careless mistakes” (the ones we make when we’re not paying attention). You can also watch my video summary here.
- Avoid spending too much time on purely technical exercises for their own sake. Finger exercises and non-concert etudes should be in service to your musical goals. Practice scales and arpeggios musically, and choose technical exercises that supplement tricky passages you've encountered in your repertoire.
- When you practice a passage, deliberately play it many different ways: louder or softer than you think you would ever play it in performance, with very crisp staccato or exaggerated legato, with opposite shapes in the dynamics or rubato (diminuendo instead of crescendo, etc). This will give you a wider range of options when you perform, and allow you to follow your ear more spontaneously.
- Think of the markings on the page as the composer’s tool to convey an emotion or expressive idea, rather than arbitrary rules. Instead of thinking “I must play forte here because it says so,” ask yourself, “What is it about the character of this music that makes it necessary to play loud?”
- Connect with your inner emotional life. Listen to music that evokes a strong reaction in you. And when you practice your music, look for hints of those strong reactions in the music you are playing. For example, if you're playing a passage that you feel conveys a sorrowful emotion, think of an experience you had that caused you to feel full of sorrow and let that experience help you connect with that emotion. When you play, play through the emotion that you want to express.
- When you perform (or even just play through) a piece you already know well, try to put yourself in the shoes of somebody who has never heard the piece before. What is interesting or surprising about it, and how can you communicate that in your interpretation?
Expression is difficult to teach, because it relies on the student tapping into their inner world and learning to express what they find there through their playing. It’s much easier to talk about concrete things like technique and playing all the right notes, because they are easier to observe objectively and adjust.
That doesn’t mean, however, that notes are the most important part. And although it's not as straightforward, it is absolutely possible to teach – and learn – how to play expressively. The end goal is what Biss is pointing to: a performance where you feel emotions deeply, and you are prepared enough to communicate them in a way that feels inevitable within the context of the piece.
In that sense, the goal of practice isn’t perfection at all, but to know the music so well that by the time we perform the piece, we feel able to take musical risks and trust ourselves in the moment. This week I wish you much pleasure (and freedom!) in your practicing! 👋
Kate