Yesterday I went down to the city to hear my old roomate play at one might be called a "mass-recital" of about 30 different performers. For the most part the other performers seemed to range from ages 7 to 16, which left poor roomate as an old outlier. The way as I see it, anyone my old roomate's age who can play like he can play is either going to or graduated from music school, or has simply lost interest and motivation to play such difficult music. At any rate, it was an interesting experience.
The environment was interesting as well. Musical "prodigies," if the term might be used, are different from older musicians in more ways than just age. Their playing is pleasant to listen to, but it is also quite mechanical, which is not surprising given the usual way musical pieces are often learned. First one learns the sheer mechanics of playing the notes on the page as they are with accuracy, proper tempo, and correct articulation. Then one learns about phrasing, dynamics, and various other more advanced techniques which give the music some life character beyond the score, as it were.
After that, the subtlies become more intense to my experience, and each musician goes about developing an understanding of the music so as to play it all the better. And it is this type of playing that seems most to differentiate young musical stars from their older counterparts (aside from additional hours or playing). Young folks have a limited experience that makes it difficult for them to carry their playing into some of the more emotional depths. Sometimes a player begins to play with such feeling at an early age, but it seems quite rare, and it is likely such a feeling would only be enhanced with experience. The point is, piano prodigies such as I saw yesterday serve as good reminders that our talents, brilliant as they might be at a young age, have the potential to be improved with greater experience and age.
Which brings us back to a familar theme, namely that of maintaining a strong focus on one's practice and development rather than on other's appraisal of that practice. Our society makes a big deal about consistently judging its most talented and potentially successful individuals from almost as early as possible. This can place additional pressure on the individual who is trying to develop, and depending on that individual's personality, such pressure could either cook them or compel them to a new level, or so the usual understanding seems to go.
Watching those piano players yesterday, I wondered what it would be like for them if they could flip a switch and not care a damn what any of us in the room felt about their playing. Maybe some of them already felt this way, but maybe not. How would they feel their appraisal of the situation did not include the opinions of judgments of others? I can't answer for them, but in considering the question, I wonder if they might not feel liberated in a way. The matter becomes one of you and the piano, working together to make beautiful music. Beautiful to whom? Doesn't matter, it's the act of playing that makes the experience beautiful. Each encounter becomes a chance to improve one's craft, and gain that experience which makes music all the more touching. Everything else is just bull shit.
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