Reading the Repertoire
I like sight reading. Maybe this is my lazy side talking - reading means, you know, not buckling down Like A Good Musician Should - but I find so much pleasure, both physical and emotional, in the exploration.
Here are some of the things I've been reading through.
Tchaikovsky Seasons. There are 12 pieces, named for the months of the year.
-Side note: Joshua McFadden has a cookbook called Six Seasons. I like this idea of seasons being something beyond the normal four we associate with the word. My therapist talks about being in certain seasons in life as times of various foci. "This is a season where I am focusing on my physical health." "This is a season of spending time practicing." "This is a season of addressing personal relationships."
Back to the Tchaik. They're delightful; easy on the hands, easy on the eyes, easy on the ears. Short and sweet enough to hold the attention. I can appreciate the pedagogy without feeling like I'm being Taught Something.
Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel has a cycle of 12 pieces too, Das Jahr, also named for the months. More difficult, physically and emotionally, than the Tchaikovsky. I find my hands and brain wandering.
I just picked up Janáček's On an Overgrown Path, and have been slowly working my way through it. Visually, it's a little disconcerting, though technically not so difficult. They sound lovely.
I try to start each morning by sight-reading. I feel like I can sort of sneak up on myself this way. Irritatingly, I often resist going to the piano. Sitting down early and bleary eyed has the advantage of letting me approach through the emotional back door, so to speak. I don't exactly have to try hard, or think very much. Once I'm there, I remember the piano isn't so goddamn intimidating. "There," I think to myself, "see, now, you're not so terrible." Having broken that day's cherry, I'm much more likely to sit down later, eager to practice.
Have I mentioned how much of a Not Real Pianist I am? I mean this in that my experience is not that of the typical classical pianist with a doctorate. I was raised the 'proper' way, learning all the technique and theory. But the repertoire, the repertoire. My older sister is also a pianist. Notice I said older? She got to all the standards first. Gentle reader, do you have siblings? If so, you are well aware that those pieces were therefore strictly off limits for me - in both our minds.
Here are a few pieces I have subsequently never played. Gasp away.
Für Elise Clair de Lune (which means I also ignored the entire set) Chopin Ballade No. 1 (ditto) Bach Partita No. 1 (ditto) Bach Italian Concerto Beethoven Waldstein Beethoven Das Lebenwohl Schumann Concerto
Reader, I didn't play a single thing she had played until my doctorate. At which point I then asked her. (I should clarify this most assuredly had much more to do with me and my charming hang-ups than her. She's a doll. [Not a real doll. You know what I mean.])
I can't blame it all on family dynamics though. I feel like I've never consistently had ample practice time.
Elementary/junior high. Well. I probably had time. I definitely did not have ample concentration.
High school. I was obsessed with my sport - sports acrobatics. It took all my time and energy.
Undergrad. By this point I was in a terrible (and immersive, as these things are wont to be) romantic relationship. Suffice to say, my musical self was not supported. Desperately sad, I took a semester off, crammed in loads of courses at the community college, and finished my bachelors in 3 years. I spent only 2 as a music major, leaving very little time for expanding ye olde repertoire.
Graduate. Well, now we're into almost adult life - mostly financially independent. Turns out when one works, one has very little time for practice.
Doctorate. EVEN LESS TIME TO PRACTICE??? Dear god.
I survived, but my repertoire list is laughably small. How many Chopin etudes have I played? Oh....three, if we're being generous. And hell, let's be generous! Full Beethoven sonatas? Four...ish. Bach suites? One. Juuuuuuust one. And on and on.
It’s hard to consider myself a Real Pianist when I compare myself (oh hush, we all do it) to my colleagues. Do they know I’m so lacking in this way? Am I forever fundamentally less than I could be because I didn’t learn more notes at a young age?
This brings me back to sight-reading. It's a way for me to explore the repertoire. It wasn't pretty, but I read all the Beethoven sonatas. All the Haydn. The Mozart. The complete works of Schumann. The WTC, book I.
We're in 2021 though, and dead white men do not enjoy the same reverence they used to, thankfully. Now, I sight-read less to get to know the canon, and more to actually explore! I want to find what I don't know, and what speaks to my hands and heart. Some of it isn't so radical. Today I read through two Scarlatti sonatas (10/10 would recommend). But it feels less like trying to fix my lesser pianist self, and more like my own discovery channel.