Piano Story

Up until my freshman year of college, playing the piano was one of the most important parts of my life.

But things got complicated when I was in college. I won’t go into the details, because I wrote about it in 2017:

https://www.icadenza.com/reclaiming-identity-musician/

(you may want to read that for the rest of this story to make sense)

Sharing about that challenging experience was an important early step in healing my relationship with music.

But there was still a long way to go, as I experienced vividly last year.

At the time of writing that blog post (which I was terrified to share), I had recently returned to piano lessons after several years - and it was wonderful. I loved my teacher and I was having a great time. It was a great hobby, a lovely respite in the middle of my week.

A year and a half later, I moved to Los Angeles and said a sad goodbye to my teacher.

I didn’t look for a new teacher in LA. I was planning to focus on writing my musical and I didn’t want to overcommit myself.

I didn’t see the point, anyway. I was at a dead end as far as my piano potential was concerned. It was a nice dead end, don’t get me wrong! Kind of like a tastefully landscaped cul-de-sac.

I felt fine about it and didn’t expect anything else.

I thought that was the end of the story.

That was one of the biggest surprises of last year, and continuing into this year -

Apparently my piano story wasn’t/isn’t over!

Though I didn’t realize it at the time, things started to change last summer.

I spent the first half of 2021 producing my musical recording entirely remotely - every performer would record their part on their own at home.

But in late July of last year, the plan changed. A few people suggested I should record the instruments together in a suitable space.

Plus things were opening up a bit and that seemed like an option.

Things quickly fell into place. I was fortunate to have LA Phil musicians agree to play violin, cello, and harp - which also meant a narrow scheduling window. The latest date we could do was September 24.

And then there was the question - who would the pianist be?

I had asked the wonderful Robert Thies to play on the recording back when we were doing it remotely. Not only was his playing fantastic (and set a VERY high bar), he also edited the piano scores, which proved to be invaluable.

Playing the piano for the remote recording wasn’t something I considered. Why would it? I didn’t have the setup, and I knew a professional could do a much better job.

But an in-person recording with the whole ensemble (piano, violin, cello, harp)? Somehow that seemed different. Both terrifying and strangely appealing.

I still believed a professional would do a better job, but could it also be true that I might bring something to the music I had written?

A rare chance to play with incredible musicians (including Nathan Cole and Gloria Lum who were clients and friends)?

It was my music so no one could judge my interpretation.

It seemed like I should do it.

I had a lot of reasons not to, though.

I only had 8 weeks to prepare.

It was a lot of music - 70 minutes. I had only prepared that much music for performance once or twice in my life, never without a teacher. And not in at least 15 years.

I knew the music in my head, but I had to learn it as if someone else wrote it. Honestly, some of it felt too hard for me to play, given how out of shape I was.

I was seriously concerned that I couldn’t be prepared in time, if at all.

My worry thoughts included:

• "You’re a slow learner and a poor sight-reader. And you don’t improvise, so good luck!"

• “Even when you think you’ve learned something, you’re inconsistent. It won’t hold."

• “There’s just not enough time”

• “You’ll get too nervous during the session and you won’t be able to get any clean takes"

Oh and just a touch of:

“This is going to be the most awkward and pathetic recording session these professional musicians have ever done, all because you won’t be able to deliver on your part. They’ll be waiting for you to get it right, take after take. And worse, they’ll feel like they have to pretend to still like you after."

But on the other hand…

I felt like I would be crazy to not do it.

When I sang in the Stanford Chamber Chorale in undergrad and grad school, we would occasionally perform with amazing ensembles like the St. Lawrence String Quartet and other fantastic musicians.

I savored those moments of high level music making because I was certain I’d never experience them again once I was no longer a student.

But maybe I was wrong?

Here was a chance to collaborate with great musicians on music I wrote. The opportunity was mine for the taking. And I knew that on the off chance it did go well, I would be so happy.

I decided to do it.

My concerns in preparing for the recording session (of my musical) were mostly logistical. How do I organize my practice so that I learn all 11 pieces in 8 weeks?

I seriously considered finding a teacher to help me. But since the timeline was so short, I was concerned that it might throw me off to have someone else involved in my process.

Plus, I realized that a part of me wanted to outsource authority on how to play this music to an “expert” - when really, I was the authority on the music that I wrote.

Plus, plus, I knew how very proud of myself I would be if I did this on my own.

That’s not to say I didn’t have support and assistance - I had a TON! Just not a piano teacher.

Renée-Paule Gauthier helped me lay out a general practice plan. And I relied heavily on what I had learned the year before in her program, the Music Mastery Experience.

Lisa Husseini also provided some guidance on preparation and coached me through the gig-related communication with the musicians. (You’d think I could do that, but I was kind of freaking out about everything)

Michael Sherman and Danny Ziemann gave me essential advice for the recording day itself.

I did extensive tapping on all of my fears and doubts with Jenny Clift.

Susan Blackwell, Laura Camien, and Larry Pressgrove provided tremendous moral support in our many conversations.

In our composition lessons, Benjamin C.S. Boyle was helping me with arrangements right up until the second/final rehearsal and gave me good advice on where to put my attention when working with the musicians.

Kenny Werner generously gifted me a few lessons so I could experience his Effortless Mastery approach, and to help me remember that playing wrong notes actually means nothing.

Gloria Lum and Nathan Cole offered encouragement and calming words on multiple occasions, mostly, again, related to how making mistakes is not a big deal.

I did a zoom play through of the hardest piece for my dear friend Mookie, whom I knew understood my situation and why I was so nervous.

It meant a lot to hear from my little brother, aka the “real musician in the family”, how excited he was for me, and how proud he was.

And so many other friends, family members, clients - basically all the people who knew I was doing this - were cheering me on.

By total surprise, preparing for this recording was an amazing and surreal experience.

Each day I practiced (which wasn’t every day), I somehow knew exactly what to work on. I didn’t have a detailed plan. Each session, I felt my intuition giving me a precise task list that ensured I had the proper coverage.

Practicing and preparing was a joy. I felt the piano calling to me. I never once had to drag myself to practice.

I discovered so many things about practicing that I’m sure musicians already know, but I didn’t - because I never liked practicing before. I’d always felt grumpy or disinterested until I could finally play the piece.

Maybe some maturity was finally kicking in. Or maybe the circumstances activated a new type of motivation.

But practicing this time meant being with myself. Helping myself learn, experiencing what I was like as I figured things out, being patient and understanding when things were happening slowly, and pleased as I saw gradual improvement.

A few weeks before the recording session I had several sleepless nights where all I could think about was my high school piano teacher, Misha. He had been such an important person in my life - until things abruptly changed when I was in college.

I felt sad about how it had ended, which was at least partly my fault.

When that other teacher told me I had no technique, I blamed Misha to some extent - or at least I thought he had let me down, or not fully prepared me.

Gosh, there is so much I can see now, that I couldn’t see then.

I wish I hadn't let a comment by a teacher I met only once derail my relationship with a teacher I’d studied with for 8 years, who basically felt like a part of our family.

I wish I hadn't let that comment carry so much weight over me for so many years, even though there was truth in it.

I remember talking to Lisa before the recording session and she asked me - what about Misha’s teaching was good for me at that time in my life?

I was flooded with gratitude for him as soon as she asked.

My first few years (starting around age 10) with him were hard. My parents were making me take lessons and he wasn’t a teacher you would describe as “fun.” He was Russian, serious, and didn’t talk much.

But once I joined the chamber music program at my middle school, I was surprised to discover I was one of the stronger pianists there. I started enjoying piano more and taking initiative with what I wanted to play.

Misha responded in kind.

He would often play for me (and he was fantastic) to introduce me to new pieces.

He never forced me to study anything. He helped me learn pieces I was obsessed with, even if he didn’t think I was ready for them.

He helped me with all of my chamber music assignments. When I had opportunities to accompany the choir or individual singers, he helped me prepare.

At each lesson, we worked on what I wanted, in the order that I wanted.

He followed my lead - he never pushed me, but matched my level of interest and intensity.

We had very few conversations over the 8 years I studied with him, but our bond was deep. I wrote my final high school essay about the positive impact he’d had on me during those years.

The topic of technique almost never came up in our lessons. I never did Certificate of Merit or any music theory. I did two SYMF competitions, but that was it.

Perhaps it wasn’t the complete, formal training that a serious high school pianist should get, and for a while that bothered me.

But now I see that Misha gave me what was most important - the interest, passion, and drive to make music a part of my life. He helped me discover a love of the piano and the incredible repertoire written for the instrument.

He gave me a foundation, and a decently solid one. I studied with various other teachers (many wonderful ones!) between the ages of 18 and 34. But I’m not sure my playing changed that dramatically, if at all. Mostly because of me, I’m sure.

As the musical recording date approached, I realized it was all because of him that I could have a chance at doing this at all.

The week of the recording, I started feeling really nervous. I remember thinking, "I wish I could get some kind of sign that it will be ok.”

The next night, I had a dream that I was with Sophie and Hans and the other members of the White Rose (that’s what the musical is about). We were sitting together in a cramped attic in the middle of the night and it was very dark. Still, I could see Sophie smile as she said to me “have so much fun!” I was happy to have a dream about her since I knew from her diaries that she had intensely vivid dreams too (I even wrote a song about one of them).

We recorded the whole album (instrumentals only) in about 6 hours on September 24, 2021.

I wasn’t nervous or anxious. I didn’t feel much of anything except intense focus for the first half of the day and exhaustion for the second half. My preparation was totally sufficient. I made plenty of mistakes, and occasionally the other musicians did too (which made me so happy and relieved - sorry!), but we got it all done.

The whole experience was so positive. Everyone went out of their way to be helpful and supportive. It was amazing to have all such a wonderful team - musicians, Louis Ng engineering, and Sam Bird producing - there to bring my big dream project, many years in the making, to life in its realest form yet.

We laid the foundation for the singers who would record over the following weeks and months - I was so excited for that part!

I thought I would feel euphoric on the other side of the recording, like I had climbed Mount Everest.

But I didn’t.

I just felt content, like I had done something that was within my abilities. It was hard, but it wasn’t the hardest or scariest thing I’ve ever done. I knew I could do it again. That peaceful, neutral feeling was the biggest win of all.

A week or so after the recording session, a new, totally foreign thought entered my mind:

“What if I’m not as hopeless at piano as I thought?”

What then?

What if the cul-de-sac actually leads to another street that I never knew about?

I was genuinely shocked that I was able to 1) prepare adequately given the quantity of music and short timeline, and 2) survive the recording session without panicking.

Could it be that I had more potential as a pianist than I realized? Could I…improve? And by how much?

I felt myself newly curious to take piano lessons again.

My composition teacher had mentioned that he knew Robert Durso, who is one of the foremost teachers of the Taubman technique.

I knew a little about the Taubman technique. I’d heard about it from the wonderful Paula Dreyer when I first took her Piano Flow class. My mom was taking private lessons with Paula and constantly raving about the Taubman technique, encouraging me to look into it. After a year of brushing her off, thinking “why bother?”, I was suddenly curious.

I spoke with Bob and he agreed to take me on - but he told me his recommendation that we spend a few months instilling the foundational principles. He asked that I not practice anything else for a while.

The timing was perfect. I had just achieved my biggest piano win to date and was very happy to take a break from intense practice.

Probably for the first time in my life, I could happily submit to the task of rebuilding technique away from repertoire for several months and feel absolutely no shame or sadness about it.

As I began learning about single and double rotations, instead of thinking pitiful thoughts like, “see, you have to do this because you’re a remedial case”, I would think “this is so cool!” and “ha HA! I’m going to be really good one day!”

Studying with Bob has been a total joy and has brought a level of healing to my relationship with piano, music learning, and playing that I never expected. It’s been unlike any piano learning experience I’ve ever had and it is perfect for me right now.

I don’t wish I had started working with him sooner though. I wouldn’t have been ready. I’ve needed the whole journey of my life, and I especially needed the recording project and how it bumped me up a few levels of experience and self-esteem.

It’s been about 9 months since I started working with Bob. I can 100% tell that I play better now than I did when I was 18, and also 9 months ago. I’m learning music faster and with more ease. My playing is more even, less tentative, and sounds better. And I still feel the piano calling me.

In my earlier years, I never turned to the piano when I felt overwhelmed, stressed, or needed to take my mind off things. I knew some people related to music that way but I didn’t. Now I understand, and I do that too. I actually have a relationship with the instrument in a way that I didn’t before.

In many ways, I feel like I’ve picked up the piano trajectory I was on at age 18. I feel a curiosity and desire to expand in this area of my life. It’s a wonderful feeling.

I’m not sure why or where it’s going, I just know that I want to progress at the piano as much as I can. Most of all, I’d like to feel confident and secure in my playing rather than constantly doubting. At some point in the future, I’m sure I’ll look back understand why I needed to develop that skill.

I wanted to share this story in detail because I feel happy and hopeful about the piano in a way I thought would never happen, after a 17 year gap.

A gap where I felt mostly sad or indifferent about the piano.

For a long time I had regrets about having lost time in my artistic development.

But now I can see so clearly that it all had to be this way - all of it!

I wouldn’t be where I am now if it weren’t for my high school piano teacher.

I also wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t had that upsetting encounter with that teacher in college.

If that hadn’t happened, I probably would not have majored in Russian literature.

If I hadn’t majored in Russian literature, I wouldn’t have been looking through the Pasternak family archives.

If I hadn’t done that, I never would have written a musical about that White Rose.

I wouldn’t be here if my path in music had been easy and straightforward, if every teacher had told me I was perfect and talented.

I also wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t randomly tried out an entrepreneurial career in the arts and ended up working with great musicians around the world - who so often represented the thing I most wanted and thought I could never be, but who also became the community that helped me do what I always wanted.

How and why I came back to music is a huge multifaceted story - and frankly, it’s great material. I’m glad to have it.

I will conclude this piano story here, but the best part is that it’s not actually over.