This is a bit early, but I have a habit of remembering tasks after they should be done, so I do this before such happens. In the approaching June, sometime, I will have had 10 years of formal music education. By this I mean that, when I was 12 years old, I began my first piano lessons (and I will be 22 this summer). Before that time, I had attempted the saxophone in fifth grade, only to quit a few months later; the dinky music classes in elementary school; and, technically speaking, I had been learning the piano on my own, and with a friend's help and piano, for about a year. It isn't exact, but these things rarely are. I remember my first lesson. My piano teacher, who was also the choir/music teacher at my middle school (my dad, knowing about my desire to learn the piano, asked her at a Solo & Ensemble event if she taught privately, she replied in the affirmative, and things were arranged), taught at her home. My family had been out in Oklahoma visiting my oldest brother, who was stationed at Tinker Air Force Base. We drove like mad to get home in time to get my music and head on over to my teacher's house. My first piece was the dreadfully ubiquitous Canon in D by Pachelbel, because it was in the only music book I had, which came with the sad excuse I had for a piano, a Casio (with only 66 keys and no pedals). I was still having trouble at the time playing both hands simultaneously, so those early lessons were quite difficult. However, I managed to progress so quickly that in three years time I was able to play "
The Great Gate of Kiev" from
Pictures at an Exhibition, by Modest Mussorgsky, and the whole suite remains my favorite work for piano. During this time, my parents had bought me a real piano, a Kimball Spinet, which I still have to this day; much is the abuse and love it has received. Before my sophomore year, my teacher recommended that I move on to another teacher, who would be able to lead me into even better playing. For the next three years, I progressed yet more, and had moved on to things like Bartok's "
Allegro Barbaro" and Liszt's
Liebestraum No. 3. Then came college (more on that later), and another piano teacher. She helped me along nicely, and then in the middle of my junior, at her suggestion, I switched teachers to learn with the head of the piano department at Webster University, Daniel Schene, with whom I will conclude 10 or so years of piano lessons.
I must admit, though, that I will stop taking lessons for awhile. Looking back, I have a love-hate relationship with that large, sounding box. I am reminded of this great quote from
The Importance of Being Earnest: "I don't play accurately-anyone can play accurately-but I do play with wonderful expression. As far as the piano is concerned, sentiment is my forte. I keep science for Life." My technique has never been the best, and it has hindered my ability to express. This bothered me for awhile, because I didn't understand why, though I loved to play, I hated to practice. Then, in a lesson with Professor Schene, he told me something that I had never realized, which was that I liked to listen when I played. When I thought about it, everything made sense. I do not gain much tactile, physical enjoyment from playing, except on rare occasions (thus my sloth regarding technique, which I neglected relatively); rather, I love to hear the music. This is also why I love to accompany, because, for the most part, the piano's music is such that I can relax enough to hear the other part(s).
To conclude this part, I thought I would share with you some of my favorite pieces for the piano:
(* indicates pieces I have learned)
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