As my students would no doubt tell you, I have a few catchphrases that regularly make the rounds. More often than not they produce a few eye-rolls but I believe in them nonetheless. Below are some of my more common quotes, and what they mean.
‘If you can’t play it slowly, you can’t play it quickly’
A very common occurrence in performances, is the tendency to rush past a tricky transition, or chord, or rhythm or what have you. There is also a joy (usually in younger students) to play the piece as fast as humanely possible. What is generally missing here, is accuracy. The temptation to speed past a point, or to get to the end, usually comes from unfamiliarity. What I will always tell the student to do is slow down (bonus catchphrase here of ‘my slow, not your slow’) and count it out. More often than not, this proves difficult and I hear the protest of ‘I can do it when I play it quickly’. I’ve got news for you friend, no you can’t. Playing a piece quickly is not the same thing as playing it well. Slow down, break it down, solve the problem, then you may continue speedily on your merry way.
‘Speed happens by itself’
Another bonus catchphrase that tends to pair nicely with this one is ‘woah woah woah!’ as a student launches frantically into the fastest ever rendition of Fur Elise (‘but Julia they’re tikatikas!’) and promptly tangles up their fingers like spaghetti. Some very important disciplines of piano include dexterity, accuracy, stamina and autonomy. They are the difference between a song sounding the way it’s supposed to sound, and a song sounding like a bunch of random rhythms thrown at a wall. When learning a song you are teaching your fingers the muscle memory patterns required for the piece. When you are starting out, you have to show them slowly. Imagine teaching someone to tie a shoelace. If you just do it at your regular speed over and over, they will learn nothing and commit to a life of velcro. If you teach them each individual step they will soon have all the required skills. Speed comes with familiarity and very rarely needs encouragement, so slow down.
‘You can’t memorise something you haven’t learned yet’
This may be my most commonly repeated mantra. My students will never understand how much of myself I see in them, but never more so than when they say ‘I don’t need the music, I have it memorised’ with a very self-satisfied smile. Young Julia also thought that she had the world’s most incredible memory and would probably never need to learn to read sheet music anyway. She was very wrong.
Something I try to break gently (though sometimes bluntness is required) is that memorisation is a common skill in children, and I use the word skill lightly. Bane-of-music-teachers-everywhere is more accurate. Children are encouraged to memorise everything, the alphabet, counting, colours etc. but when it comes to learning music, what we’re looking for is balance. Am I proud of you for memorising the first 8 bars of this song? Absolutely. Do I also want you to know where you are on the music and not start at the beginning every single time you forget where you are? I think it’s reasonable. Do I also not want to have a massive argument every time we start a new bar? I don’t think I’m asking for the moon here.
The problem with memorising one part of a piece of music is that they’re simultaneously forgetting all the theory skills they worked so hard to learn. They still know how to read music, but it just feels easier to play what they already know. This results in 10 half-learned pieces of music and me explaining that ‘no, I will not play every piece for you so you can learn it by ear’. Which by the way, teachers who do this, not a fan. The number of adults I’ve met who can beautifully play one song and know absolutely nothing else is far too many.
‘Practice means…?’
If you answered ‘perfect’ then no points for you pal. A common conversation I’ll have with my students is as follows:
Me: ‘Did you practice this piece?’
Student: ‘Yep! Like 5 times!’
Me: ‘Great! Start whenever you’re ready.’
Student: ‘Can you tell me the first note?’
There is a huge difference between playing a piece, and practicing a piece. In the world of JKM, practice means making it better than it was. I don’t ask for perfection, I ask for you to know more about the piece this week than you did last week. To practice means to work on one bar at a time, to go over it right hand, then left hand, then together, to identify the rhythms, the count, to teach yourself the left hand chord progression independently of the melody (if you’re feeling fancy). Practice doesn’t mean playing the whole song 20 times and learning nothing in the meantime. If I take the piece away and you can’t tell me what notes your hands start on, you’re getting nothing but a raised eyebrow.
‘And what would be the best way to practice this…?’
Cue the dejected sigh of ‘scales’ and my triumphant cry of ‘exactly!’ Scales are the magical cure-all musical equivalent to garlic, lemon, ginger etc. Struggling with sharps/flats? Scales! Can’t keep your eyes on the music? Scales! Hands out of sync? Scales! They are the foundational keys to just about everything, understanding key signatures, transposing, mastering melodies, sight-reading, coordination, rhythm, pitch, the universe. They have the worst reputation as boring, tedious, robotic exercises and they are so much more. This one is often paired with ‘if you know all your scales, you know everything’.
There are definitely more than these, but they start to get a bit obscure and these cover the bases nicely. Building your foundational skills is (I believe) the very fastest way to build your musicianship. Even if it feels slow to start, I promise it is absolutely necessary and by the time you’ve got them nailed, you won’t even remember that it ever felt difficult.
-J