Friday, April 4, 2014 by Hamdani, Laurie | Ideas

My shoulder injury has really got me thinking about balance. In music, balance refers to all of the various parts of the composition maintaining their importance within the context of the composition. This is easily understood in ensemble playing. A timpani and a viola each have their role as a component of the greater composition. Sometimes the timpani produces a pronounced sound and at other times the viola’s voice rises to the forefront.

Balance at its simplest at the piano requires an understanding of melody and harmony combined with the dexterity and capability in each hand to execute a wide range of touch on the keys. We can easily hear when the hands are not in balance in the performance of novice students wherein all the notes in both hands are played loudly with little to no variation in dynamics. Most often in piano repertoire, melody is right-hand dominant, meaning the melody of the composition is most often written to be played by the right hand. Young pianists naturally become fairly adept at ‘bringing out’, or giving more importance to, the right hand melody with just a little practice. 

But, every so often, a composition requires left-hand dominance to execute the melody. Students often have a great deal of difficulty making this shift, which is both cognitive and physical. Due to my injury, I’m preparing a recital piece which is written for the right hand only. This piece is not as technically challenging as some of the pieces I’ve played in past recitals in terms of key or rhythm. But this balance thing? Pretty complex! My right hand must play both melody and harmony within each and every measure. Further, the notes span some six octaves, sometimes within only a few measures or even beats. A brief understanding of the physical properties of the piano may help to illustrate this degree of difficulty. High notes make high pitches because the strings (actually, wires) inside the piano are very thin and short. The higher the note the naturally softer it is when struck, meaning that to play a high note loudly requires greater force from the hand. The converse is true for lower notes, i.e. longer, thicker strings, requiring less pressure to produce a softer sound. So, my right hand must vary its touch on the keys greatly within the span of just a few beats. I must constantly be thinking about melody and harmony and the weight of my hand in order to produce a balanced composition.

One way to think of it is that the very nature of the body of piano literature is out of balance, with melody predominantly written for the right hand. Therefore, making the mental and physical shift to left-hand dominance feels foreign and difficult or as students have frequently commented, “wrong” or “weird”. Perhaps this is a metaphor for life, for not getting so comfortable in the expected, the routine. To that end, I’m rather happy my torn rotator cuff has given me the chance to challenge myself and my views not just of melody and harmony but of what is possible when you look at something from a different point of view.

Friday, February 21, 2014 by Hamdani, Laurie | Ideas

Click on Pyramid below to download a diagram I came up with years ago to illustrate how students learn music.

Pyramid

Thursday, February 20, 2014 by Hamdani, Laurie | Ideas

Over my years of teaching I have come to believe that my role as a teacher extends beyond just the specifics of the language of music and the mechanics of the instrument. I strive to notice and act on "teachable moments". For example, when a student repeatedly comes to lessons unprepared, it can provide an opportunity to discuss personal responsibility, choices and consequences, motivation, and so on.

One tool I've used over the last few years is something I call the "Grins & Groans jar". Sometimes students walk into their lesson completely preoccupied with some event in their day or week and feel compelled to share. So much so, at times, that I need to find a way to help them focus on the task at hand, i.e. their piano lesson. In these situations, I offer them a chance to write a brief description of the issue or event on a card and then put it into the jar. "Grins" might be something really positive that happened to them, like getting a role in the musical they auditioned for. "Groans" might be something like their frustration with a teacher, a test, a friend, etc. Then I offer to save a few minutes at the end of the lesson to talk about what they wrote on the card if they so choose. But, once the card is in the jar, that topic stays in the jar during the lesson so that we can focus on the present moment, the present task at hand.

A recent example involved a student who is generally highly motivated, engaged, and prepared. But one day, she showed up very distraught and apologetic for not being prepared with her piano materials. She had had a bad pre-audition on another instrument at school, had had a death in the family, and had been out of town for a few days as well. In other words, she was feeling very stressed and sad and frustrated. I had her write some of this down on the card ("groans") and put it in the jar. Then I asked her whether she could just leave all of those groans in the jar while we had a working piano lesson, reviewing and practicing the things she couldn't get to over the last week. She responded "yes" and actually felt quite relieved to step away from all that drama for a while.

At the end of the lesson, I asked her if she wanted all those "groans" back to take home with her or whether she'd just like to leave them in the jar. Naturally, she left them in the jar. This is an exercise in mindfulness, being present in the present moment, and learning that you have a choice whether or not events external to you affect you in the present moment.

Not every student has needed to use this tool. But I have seen that when they do, it makes a huge impact going forward.