The Art of Listening

I'm not gonna lie. I'm a talker. A serious talker. And I like to think that I have a lot to say, but lately I'm paying attention to the fact that I don't just talk a lot, I often talk over people and interrupt them. I say it's my way of engaging, of participating and of caring. And out of that enthusiasm I find myself formulating my response to what someone is saying to me while they are talking. And jumping in the nano-second they have stopped talking. And I'm beginning to understand that I am far from mastering the art of listening.

But, on the bench the other day while practicing, something amazing happened. You see, just like I talk a lot off the bench, I also have a tendency to talk over the composer when I play. (Huh?)

Let me explain.

Here's what I hear all too often at my piano lessons with Bob.

"It's really great, but overall, too loud."

"It would really be great if you could play softer."

"Why so much pedal?"

"If you give it all away here (meaning too loud), where can you go with this when you get to the climax"

"Save it (the sound) for when the phrase gets to this part."

In short? I tend to play too loud. And with too much pedal. And I realized, that keeps it safe. This wall of sound while on the surface seems to be full of bravado and bluster - is a crutch. It is ego. A way to not feel exposed.....A way to, well, hide.

So, the other day, I started to play much more quietly. I mean, afterall, we're talking about a piano. A huge instrument which no matter how soft you play it, it's still going to be heard! I started really feeling the ride of the key. I started backing off of the pedal. And actually being silent during the rests in the score. And everything in one fell swoop changed!

And as I backed off physically from the piano, I discovered the joy of listening to what the piano itself really needs from me. Physically and musically. What the actual keys needs to be able to bring the composer's music to life. What the composer is trying to say. What the music itself is trying to express. To listen. Truly listen.

Whoa!

Let me back up.

Before I was exposed to the Taubman Method, and while I was at the conservatory, there was so much emphasis on playing with muscular effort, in fact hours and hours year after year, dedicated to mindless exercises like Czerny, Hannon, Philippe and countless others. All to "strengthen the fingers." So much time learning to hammer the keys. What a waste of time and energy. But worst of all, I got into the habit of physically playing past the key bed. Bottoming out.

What does that mean?

The piano key has a short excursion. Maybe an inch at the most of "ride" before your finger on the key hits the key bed. And there's something called the point of sound, or the escapement (on most pianos) where the hammer actually hits the string. So, blasting past the escapement does two bad things:

1) You don't control the speed of the key very well, which is the only thing that actually controls the volume and sound quality of the note you are making.

2) You bottom out and waste a ton of precious energy by over exerting and actually tire yourself out and slow yourself down.

It's like adding weight into your feet after every stride when you try to run. Ridiculous.

On the other end of the spectrum I used to tip-toe on the keys whenever I needed to play softly. My finger tips would make contact with the keys but I'd hold up my wrists, arms and shoulders. Think about actually tip-toeing and think about how much tension is in your body when you do that!

Over the years, thank God, I learned to play in a way where my fingers move in coordination with my hand and arm, allowing me to play without forcing. In the old days, the concept that I was taught was that the fingers did the lion's share of the work and therefore, my fingers would isolate (play without the help of my arm), over curl and force themselves into the keys.

This made me work really hard and also play way too loud without enough dynamic variation.

The epiphany the other day was shocking. Even though I know a better way to play physically, musically, I still played like the old days. With too much sound. Too much pedal. Still bottoming out. Even though I finally have the pianistic tools and skills to back off, emotionally, I was hanging on to my old ways - out of habit, out of wanting to be heard, out of fear, out of God-knows-what!

I am learning to trust that I am mastering a different way to play (with ease, speed, coordination and easy, but full control) and with that, allowing my ears to openup. And as they do, I have to deal with the emotional fallout of being exposed. Of playing what I'm hearing. Of listening, really listening to the intention of the composer. Of having to muster up the courage to make my art.

And something else is happening off the bench. I'm making a supreme effort to listen better to those around me. To give people space to talk. (Whoa!) - And to those of you who know me - stop laughing! I'm trying to be present and really show up when I engage with someone. And not force the conversation. And really hear what someone has to say. And engage with the conversation - the dialogue that is actually happening. Much like the physical and musical dialogue happening at the piano.

And as I try to listen better, really and truly listen, and pull my ego back and muster the courage not to cover things up, worlds are opening up that weren't there before.