Tackling a Tough One

I thought I would pull this rambling narrative back on track and discuss my latest project. I'm doing very well with my lessons and absorbing the information rapidly. We've moved into deep territory in music theory and have so far put behind us Brahms' Lullaby and a Vienna Waltz or two. I don't play these perfectly, but understand I spend about a week on two to three pieces, absorb the lessons, and move on. I also play with pieces on my own which are usually a bit ahead of what we're studying. I am hungry for knowledge. I sometimes study at night until I fall asleep while still looking at sheet music. I've spent my entire life adoring music as an outsider, now I'm getting a taste of what it is to be on the inside.

I've attached the first sheet of my current "independent" project. I can actually play this entire first page--slowly, admittedly, and hands separately at this point--but this is a piece most people play after a year or so of practice. or so I'm told. Sometimes more. So I don't feel bad that it's taking me a little while to absorb it. I've just about begun my third month of practice. well, to be precise, I began taking lessons on January 18th. April 18th will be three months. It seems longer than that. Anyway, here it is:


This piece is in what is called "Split time" which means it's played twice as fast as indicated. In other words, 1/4 notes are really 1/8th notes, and 1/8th notes are played as 16/th notes. I thought this was cool.

Teacher advises me to work on things like rhythm and dynamics. These skills aren't in our lessons yet; not until Alfred Volume Two. Well the note and time signatures define rhythm but it isn't emphasized all that much. At this stage of the game the authors are happy if you can read the notes, play them for the correct length and remember the melodies. I've bought a metronome to aid my rhythm and timing.

I guess I need a challenge, something really hard to work on. The lessons in my book are good, they teach the information very well, but they don't stretch me. Since the age of 12 or so I wrestled with some of the most difficult sleight of hand in the literature of magic. I deliberately found the most difficult stuff, because I figured if I learned the difficult stuff, very few other magicians would be doing it. As it turned out, I was correct. I love struggling with difficult problems. There is a unbeatable sense of satisfaction when you finally crack it, when your brain gives in and surrenders to your will, and when all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

The difference is that I'm not as young as I used to be. After I cram my brain for an hour or two, I get sleepy. I find my afternoon nap indispensable after a tough day of mindwork. It turns out there's sound reasons for this. The brain has no stored energy of its own. It relies entirely on sugar--glucose--to function. So when you work your brain intensely, it burns through fuel rapidly. When you're learning new skills, you need a period of sleep to assimilate it, just as weightlifters need a period of rest to build new muscle after a strenuous workout. This is why long periods of practice are less productive than several periods of shorter duration.

This piece I'm working on is three pages long, I think it will take me at least a month to learn it all, maybe another month to play it well. I didn't include the title of the piece because I didn't want to step on copyright. But if you want to know what it is, it's easy to find out: just learn it and play it. You'll recognize it right off.

Say What?

I never cared for the television show House, or for the actor/comedian Hugh Laurie who portrays the character. I watched a couple of episodes when it first came on and decided he was a sociopath, way too much like some of the characters I worked with back in my engineering days.

Recently a friend of mine told me House reminded him of me. So I decided to take a closer look at the show. One of the stations ran a House marathon the other day so I had a chance to study my supposed doppelganger with laser-like intensity. I scrutinized, analyzed, examined, contemplated this character. I was appalled. Dr. House is despicable. My original impression that he was a sociopath was confirmed. Okay, I am a smartass, but I'm an endearing smartass. I don't use my skills to hurt people's feelings. Dr. House is a complete narcissist. I connect with people. Don't I?

So I asked my friend why he felt I resembled this psycho in any way. He replied, "Well, you're really smart, and you're a smartass. Like he is. And you're a loner. You don't care what people think of you. You go around saying funny smartass things all the time. And now you play piano like he does. You're just like him."

Sure enough. Gregory House plays a mean keyboard. At the conclusion of many of the episodes, after severing ties with most of the people around him, leaving most of them in tattered emotional ruins, (granted, also performing miracles of medical diagnostics often in the nick of time) he can be found tickling the ivories.

Ah alas. I am a loner. I don't form friendships easily. I have a very small circle of close friends. Like, uh, well. A couple I guess. Compulsively-addictive personality, Mea culpa, but been off any substances for over three decades, unless you count strong coffee and chocolate cake, and some would.

Women of my acquaintance find Gregory House fascinating and attractive, which solidifies my conviction that the emotional and mental inner-workings of women will always be beyond my comprehension. There seems to be an inverse/square ratio relationship with gentlemanly behavior and female sexual response: the bigger the schmuck, the more women will want him, which explains why women liked Alan Alda, who had to be one of the most insufferable narcissists in the history of human existence. Here's my impression of a date with Alan Alda: "Me me, me me. But enough about me. What do you think about me?"

Ha ha ha, maybe I am a lot like Dr. House. I told my wife about this and she agreed that I did say mean, smart-ass things sometimes. I think she refers to my running commentaries about shows she sometimes watch, which specialize in hyper-hosts and wallow in maudlin emotional content. I mean, to be specific, Extreme Home Makeover. I hate that show. Now I'm glad that deserving people are helped, but this style of voyeuristic "reality television" has gone too far and I am ashamed of us as a species for allowing it to continue. Can the camera get any closer to the tear-streaked faces, and can the carpentry crew fake empathy and sympathetic joy any worse? You can practically hear them thinking, "Can I quit hugging these smelly kids and get on with hanging this sheet rock? I only have 12 more hours to deadline and I only had four hours sleep, that prick Ty only sleeps like two hours a night the hyper crackhead and he listens to Radiohead all night; I'm losing my mind, someone shoot me; why didn't I stick with English Lit in college; God help me." Speaking of Ty--Ty Pennington, easily the worst choice for a television personality since Carmen Elektra, reminds one of the ADD kid next door who bounces a ball against your siding continuously, and whose parents refuse to do nothing, until driven to madness, you drive to Tru-Value Hardware, purchase a Tranq-gun, and pop the kid one in the gastrocnemius just so you can have one minute of sweet, sweet silence. (For those of you who aren't Dr, House, the gastrocnemius is the large muscle of the lower leg, shown here:)

So where does this leave us? I think I've made a cogent, logically consistent, solipsistic and incontrovertible defence against the argument that I am in any way shape or form like Dr. Gregory House--except that I play the piano. He plays it a lot better than I anyway. SO ene there the resemblance ends. Thank goodness.

Random Jottings

I think my cold is getting better, though a tickly cough woke me up a 4 AM this morning, so I got up until it passed. I found myself perusing the internet, and my son sent me a video of two Texans fighting in a Whattaburger restaurant. I've found myself fascinated lately with videos of people fighting in public. Usually these aren't true fights but clumsy wrasslin. I occasionally found myself involved in public fracases in my youth. Fortunately these weren't very heated and didn't lead to any severe injury on anyone's part, although I did punch someone in the neck once for pulling a knife on me. I figured the punishment fit the crime, as the Mikado said. I can say one thing with utter sincerely: thank God there weren't cell phone video cameras and You Tube when I was young. I would have been ruined.

I've spent some quality time working on my piano in between business matters. My Hanon is smoothing out; my Brahms Lullaby is becoming positively soporific. I'm almost ready to move onto the next piece. Think I'll do so tonight after I finish some work-related projects.

Here is a very interesting video on how a piano key works.

Works in Progress

Teacher has a family emergency so canceled this week's lesson, leaving me to mine own devices. So I honed the exercises and forged ahead on Brahms' Lullaby, plus started working on a couple of more advanced pieces. I'm also foraging for material to practice to push myself ahead. The stick and the carrot theory.

I'm fascinated by the sheer diversity of arrangements available for a single piece of music. I have three arrangements of Over the Rainbow, each more advanced than the next, same with What a Wonderful World. In the meantime, this respiratory infection has returned with a vengeance, and I'm on an even stronger antibiotic, so feel crappy. I putter about the house, work on my taxes--which, being self employed are prodigious in both scope and depth--and practice as much as I can. All while wheezing and sneezing. I feel like a nineteenth-century consumptive bohemian.

Hanon and the Virtuoso Pianist

When Charles-Louis Hanon composed his epic work, The Virtuoso Pianist in 60 Exercises in 1873, I wonder if he envisioned the generations of future aspiring pianists huddled intently over their keyboards, peering at his deceptively-simple looking measures, trying to get their fingers to cooperate.

Because they do appear simple, at least the early ones. On first glance you think, "Oh, you just run up and down the scales. What's the big deal?" But then look more closely. There are subtle gaps, and finger positions, and other things, which make Hanon much harder than they seem.

With perseverance comes understanding, and you eventually see where he's going with these elegant little training drills. And your playing does improve rather quickly.

Basically, piano playing consists of this: You play the treble clef with your right hand and the bass clef with your left. But there's more to it than this, unless you're happy to just bang out a tune. There's technique; which requires precision and sensitivity. This is what Hanon set out to teach when he designed these training drills. He analyzed common problems and rectified them, concentrating on speed, precision, agility, strength of the fingers and flexibility of the wrists.

Very few--if any--of the online "Play-the Piano-TODAY!" quick-learn courses even mention Hanon. I think they're afraid the idea of daily drills might scare off their short-attention span, want-it-now customer base. This is too bad. There is a great sense of satisfaction in finally mastering something elusive, and in knowing you're stepping in the footprints of the Masters, and even if you know you'll always only be a Lurker in the Shadows, it's still very cool to know that Rachmaninoff practiced Hanon too. I think more effort invested in something "hooks" you deeper.

There are two Hanon exercises in the first Alfred Basic Adult lesson book, from the Second Volume--not the First--of the Virtuoso Pianist. These are not the famous Hanon 1 & 2 exercises, on which I'm also working. I think these are included because these two are simpler and fit in better with the progression of the material. Then, the hook: "You can find more Hanon exercises in the Alfred publication: The Virtuoso Pianist in 60 Exercises.

Sigh. Back to Amazon. A few days later, I too, join the ranks of winsome keyboardists pounding their way thorough the 60 Hanon drills. It occured to me I could keep a journal of my progress through Hanon like that woman did through the Julia Child cookbook, but then, on second thought, dumbass--I already am.

By the way, Hanon--and other composers of technical exercises--are not universally revered. Some modern, progressive teachers are opposed to the idea of repetitious exercises to improve technique, arguing that hours spent performing unmusical exercises can dull a student's inherent musicality.

Perhaps it can. I would suggest moderation. At this point I'm not exactly ecstatic playing "Little Brown Jug," but I see it as a stepping stone to Brahms' Waltz in A minor. The old carrot-and stick, you know. No pain, no gain. Pay a little, play a little. Walk it off. Grin and bear it. Insert your favorite generic macho aphorism here.

But I'm still green, and it's still much fun to me. I'm coming up on my tenth week of instruction, and am on page 110 (out of 140) of book one of Alfred. The material is getting harder, and Monday we look at Brahms' Lullaby.

Oh Look--a Piano

UPS knocked on my door with a large box containing my piano, the quite impressive Casio Privia, which is now installed in the corner of my living room. My wife is in Arizona attending her friend's wedding, happily unaware of just how BIG a full 88-key piano keyboard is. But she'll find out. I hope she'll still love me.

I've been watching Der Rosenkavilier with my cat waiting for it to arrive (I guess the proper term should be wondering if it would arrive) but my ordeal is over.

It is an impressive piece of equipment. Now I must read the manual so I won't blow it up. It's a workout playing it. Pushing these keys is about three times the effort of my old "soft key" Yamaha keyboard.

Bumps in the Road

I had a spa day yesterday. My wife gave me a gift certificate Valentine's Day for the local spa, and I've been saving it until I really needed it. After the last few weeks, my inner voices suggested to me the time had come. I had a one-hour soak in a hot jacuzzi followed by a massage from head to toe (note to my libertine friends in New York: Not that kind of massage). Today I'm relaxed and much more clear of mind than I have been in a while.

I've learned difficult practices all my life. I've been a sleight-of-hand magician, among other things. When I was in school, Calculus was hard, as was Particle Dynamics and Geometry. I plugged through them though and eventually my sluggish brain accepted these new skills. But obtaining new skills takes time and repetition--and patience.

One thing I've learned is that are periods of disillusionment when you realize some things are just hard to learn and you wonder if you can do it. Your mind rebels. Sometimes you have to trick it. You have to misdirect yourself. Give yourself rewards; play the carrot-and-stick game. Keep yourself motivated. The difference between someone who can learn and someone who won't is perseverance.

I truly think most people give up when they hit the first hard bump. Many people want to learn a new skill, but as soon as it starts to become difficult, they think, "Oh, this is too hard," and give up. This first bump, in my experience, averages out at about six weeks. If you want to pick up inexpensive exercise equipment, start checking the want-ads in the newspaper or on-line about six weeks after Christmas for those abandoned New Year's weight-loss resolutions.

But if you have the determination to power through that six-week slump, I truly think you can see it though. Now there will be other bumps along the highway to achievement. Many of them. I can speak from experience, because I'm one of the very few people I know who accomplished his childhood dream. I knew I wanted to be a wizard when I grew up. I saw magicians on televisions and I knew I wanted to amaze people for a living. Now I perform Mind-reading and Hypnotism shows, which is even better. It wasn't easy to achieve success in this field, and there were a lot of setbacks. But I kept going. I can't really tell you what kept me going, but I knew if I gave up even once, I would never try again, so I never quit. There were times I whined a lot, and times I lost pretty much everything due to life disasters, but I managed to recoup and kept the dream alive. I scraped by somehow.

I won't say it didn't cost me. Sometimes it cost me a great deal. I had to make difficult decisions. Some people thought I was crazy to sacrifice the security of a "real" job for the roller-coaster of self-employment. Well, I suppose if you've survived as many economic ups and downs as I have, and seen as many people as I have out of work while I still did shows, you may redefine your idea of job security. But until the day she passed away, my mom never thought I had a real job, and many people have shared that sentiment. "Work," in many people's minds, can't be something you do unless it involves going to an office and having a boss yell at you. So I try to yell at myself for ten minutes every day just to satisfy these people. It doesn't seem to help, though my neighbors don't bother me anymore because I have a reputation.

So the point is this: learning this piano business is difficult. I'm finding once you master one skill and think you have it licked, you move on to something else and it's as if you started all over again. I can see why so many people give up or remain at a certain, very simple level (Rock and Pop music require very basic skills you know). If you look in the want-ads or on Craigslist the musical instuments section is enormous. People buy an instrument (guitars seem especially popular) and maybe take a few lessons and find it takes a lot of practice--and my piano teacher says that even people who take lessons hate to practice. So after a while the instrument sits around gathring dust, because most people only do (1) what they have to do, (2) whatever's fun and (3) sleep and eat the rest of the time.

My message to you is if you have a dream, pursue it with diligence, and see the bumps in the road as rest stops. Take a moment to catch your breath and look around for a moment. Maybe all you need is a little perspective. If nothing else, give yourself a spa day.

The Blues:
When I was a much younger man, around age twenty I believe, I dabbled with the blues harmonica. I gained some prowess with it but not enough to play with a band, though I did play once or twice with a friend's band to the surprise of my friends. Here is a picture of a much tubbier me doing so:It occurs to me now that I understand music better I could pick up this instrument again and ply it with deeper understanding. You know ther's a formula concerning how Bluesmen get their name. The first part is a infirmity, the second a locality, and the third part a name (Like Blind Memphis Slim), so mine would have to be Dyslexic Indiana Johnny. Look for my fist album, Singing the Lubes.