The Pleasures of Long-Term Practicing

I’m continually amazed at my professional piano-playing colleagues, who are usually so busy that they must maximize the efficiency of their practicing in a way that’s completely beyond my imagination. Much of the time (or so it seems to me), they learn (or re-learn) music in days, at most a few weeks. Since they do this constantly, I suppose their muscle memory (and perhaps also their sight-reading ability) is more finely developed than mine.

Performance, much as I love it, can never occupy so much of my time that I can come close to these virtuosic powerhouses. But while that’s true, I can give myself a luxury that they can’t: I can learn pieces over a longer span of time—can, in a sense, live with the piece, or better, experience playing a particular piece as if it’s like getting to know someone. I first became aware of what that feels like when I began performing Two² with Laurel back in 1993. After a couple of years not doing it, we got into the habit of playing it every year. It changes partially with us, partially with circumstances—for example, in the last couple of years, we tend to play it as the second half of an evening-length program (with Four⁶ as the first half). I think it works pretty well that way, although at some point I'd like to do the two piano parts of Music for _____ as Music for Two. It’s been a while since I listened to that piece, but I seem to remember it would make a good contrast with Two².

Anyway, I found myself thinking about this afternoon when I had a sudden urge to practice some music that I’m playing for Nic Orovich in the spring. So far, the two works definitely on the program are Hindemith’s alt-horn sonata and Leslie Bassett’s trombone sonata. I played the latter many, many years ago while I was still in high school with Hugh Eddy, who I now see is the associate trombonist with the New York City Ballet orchestra (yay, Hugh!); I haven’t played it since. I was surprised today that the piece came back into my fingers after about 90 minutes. But I’m more glad that, now that it has, I have lots of time to spend with it as a piece of music—rather than finding myself fighting to perfect it the week before the performance. The Hindemith is new, but I’ve played so many of his sonatas that I feel as if I’m with an old friend every time I learn a new one.

This kind of practicing is surely a luxury; I can’t help feeling, though, that it gives people the chance to make a particular piece of music a part of their life. That’s something rather different from working full-time as a performing musician.