I can’t play that. Yet.

We’ve all had the experience. The realisation that you cannot do something that has been asked of you, or that you expect of yourself. You may not play the piano, but the experience is a universal one. Any new challenge might be accompanied by these feelings. You don’t need to be a child either, it’s just that children’s lives are primarily concerned with learning.

Something else that’s almost universal about it: we do not like it at all. We each greet these unwelcome challenges in different ways. It is often accompanied with feelings of disappointment, frustration or failure, sometimes tears. I used to get very angry, I’d cry at times, perhaps bang the piano keys (I broke my piano once, but that’s a story for another time).

But there’s another side to this, buried unrecognised in the throes of my latest tantrum. To say “I can’t do this” is actually a statement of reality. Here is a thing you know you cannot do. It is important to know where you begin. The next important step is understanding that today’s inability says nothing about tomorrow: “I can’t do this … Yet.”

Several years ago, I read the following, although I can’t remember who wrote it: “There is no such thing as a difficult piece [of music]. It is either impossible or it is easy. The means by which it moves from one category to the next is practice.”

How will I conquer this new challenge?

There are all the usual techniques: separate hands practice, slow practice, memorising the passage, playing with eyes closed. These are good places to begin.

Take one step at a time. Some pieces might have a number of difficult passages. Choose one and focus your attention and efforts on that.

Identify the problem: what makes it so difficult? Be specific as possible. It might be a run of quick notes, a single chord change, an unusual rhythm pattern, coordinating the hands, a series of leaps. You will approach each in subtly different ways, and understanding the nature of the challenge will help you decide upon the best course of action.

Once that’s done, put it in context. As a young pianist, I’d focus on a particular issue and conquer it, only to have the bars either side of it fall apart instead. From this, I learned that I needed to slightly expand my practice – maybe one bar either side – so that I could move smoothly from the music I knew well, to the challenge itself and out the other side again. Typically that doesn’t take so long, but its an important part of the process.

Ask for help. Teachers exist to help their students do what was previously impossible for them, and to help them do it well. It’s what I’m here for.

So much for the techniques of practice, how about the emotional side? How can you keep from getting discouraged?

Walk away, or look at something else, then come back to it tomorrow. Understand that you’re not going to conquer anything in one sitting or on one day. It’s not because your stupid, it’s just the way the human mind works. Frequent repetition consolidates learning and new skills.

Remember past victories. You’ve been here before: true, not this exact problem, but you’ve met others and you’ve won! You can do it again. That can be difficult for a child to do, so it can be Mum & Dad’s job. Keep a note of your child’s accomplishments, especially the ones he really had to work for, and remind him of those times. Write them down if you need to.

Be ready to surprise yourself. I’ve played for ballet exams since 2003. This has involved learning a lot of music. I mean A LOT! In the first year I learned six grades worth of music in only a few months. About eight years ago the Royal Academy of Dance began issuing new syllabuses: more music to learn! Occasionally, I’ve been asked to play a new grade I haven’t seen before with only four to six weeks notice. Usually I look at the new work, and sigh with the enormity of it – “I’ll never do it!” But then I remember that I’ve done it before, and no doubt I will surprise myself again. No, I’m not unusually gifted, there are many pianists more skilled than me. I love playing the piano, and these challenges give me a reason to practise, that’s all. It’s simply a matter of committing the time required to gain the victories.

“You need to aim beyond what you are capable of. You must develop a complete disregard for where your abilities end. Try to do things that you’re incapable of… If you think you’re incapable of running a company, make that your aim… Make your vision of where you want to be a reality. Nothing is impossible.” (Paul Arden)

“Musicality”

Have you ever considered what gives a piece of music that special quality we call, “musicality”?  I’m reminded of this question as I begin my annual round of ballet rehearsals and exams.  Each dancer is awarded a significant component of their overall mark for “musicality”, which includes their response to the musicality in my performance.

I think of “musicality” as the human side of the music.  You can program a computer to play a piece of music – a list of pitches to be played in a certain order for a certain duration at a certain volume – and it will do so perfectly, every time.  It will never go out of tune, get out of time or struggle with difficult bits.  But there is so much it will lack: style, interpretation, emotion.  A computer will execute a task, where musicality demands a performance.  (One of the significant disadvantages of games like “Singstar” is that a Playstation cannot cope with musicality in performance: an emotionless, accurate rendition of any song will always outscore a musical one.)

The Australian Music Examination Board (AMEB) lists qualities such as “expressive realisation of dynamics” and “musical phrasing” among its assessment criteria for examination candidates.  The challenge is that these qualities are quite distinct from the printed musical score, an extra layer to creating a performance.

It is something akin to reading.  When I was at high school, struggling with Shakespeare, we were reading around the room through one particular scene, when my English teacher commented, “You didn’t really understand that, did you, David?”  He was right.  I didn’t read anything wrong as such.  All the words were correct, spoken in the right order, but the expression (and lack thereof) in my voice revealed all too clearly that I had no real sense of what I was trying to say.

Once a student understands their instrument, has correctly read the score, become familiar with the notes and mastered the technical challenges, then musical expression can be infused into the music.  But you can see that the journey may be a long one.  So, where to begin?

Consider the style, mood, story and purpose of the piece.  How will you achieve that character?  Do this for the whole piece to begin with, then burrow down to the details of sections and individual phrases.  Every note has a beginning, middle and end, adding substance and value to the piece as a whole.

Are you communicating what you intend to?  Develop the habit of listening to yourself play – even record or film yourself playing.  Spend time listening to the performances of others.  Great performances by great musicians provide wonderful role models we can strive to emulate, but we can also learn from less spectacular work.  YouTube is a great resource!  Go looking for a performance (or four!) of the pieces you are trying to play.  What do you like?  What could have been done better?

All these questions will help you develop your own musical expression.  Then, like anything, it’s a matter of practice.