The Code

There is an unspoken code amongst musicians, a code governing behavior and social manners between colleagues. Every musician knows it and most follow its rules. For the benefit of non-musician readers, I will enumerate the main points below - if anybody would like to add to the list, please comment. (These are across-the-board valid for all musicians relating to one-another with the exception of a teacher-student relationship or between musicians who are good friends).

1. Never, never, never ask a fellow musician how much he or she practices. This is a very personal question, a very touchy subject. It's like asking, "How much do you weigh?" It's absolutely none of your business. Besides, it's more important how a person practices than how much. Some people need more time to accomplish what others can do more quickly. Of course, the best musicians combine the how and the how much, and in 8 hours, get done what mere mortals can't do in a week. To each his own.

2. Don't volunteer information about how much you practice. That's just rude. Nobody cares, and nobody is impressed. You're probably lying anyway.

3. Nobody wants to hear all the technical exercises you do. "I play the complete Hanon in a different key every day." Yeah, nobody cares. And you're probably lying. If you want a high-horse, be a gymnast.

4. Don't give unsolicited advice. If they don't ask, they don't care. "You should play the complete Hanon in a different key every day." Who are you, my teacher? Um, no.

5. Occasionally, if the conversation progresses in a civilized way, it's ok to ask current repertoire. But you have to cough up your current repertoire too. Please remember that personal anecdotes and stories about how you learned and performed Carnaval in 4 days are prohibited. Unless you want people to hate you.

6. If all the above problems have been avoided and the conversation is moving along nicely, civily, respectfully, and both people are interested, it's ok to talk about the interval span of one's hand. "How much can you reach?" is an more or less a neutral question. Everyone's hands are different, and everyone must come up with unique solutions for unique hands.

Again, in a teacher/student relationship, all this changes. A teacher should give advice--should make demands--and should ask all the tough questions, especially the "how much are you practicing" question, though usually it's clear by the playing; a student, in return, should be able to ask the teacher those "how" and "how much" questions. Also, musicians who are friends and need each other for support and inspiration may cross the line every once in awhile since it's not about bragging but about helping.

I don't know how much any of my friends practice, except that it's a lot. I don't ask; I don't need to know. And they don't ask me. We know the code. We follow it. However, it was my recent misfortune to encounter someone who crossed the line, someone who should've known better. It's insulting, offensive, and eliminates the benefit of the doubt we usually extend to new acquaintances. Maybe it doesn't seem like a big deal to non-musicians, but it is. The code-breakers are the type who put razor blades between the piano keys.

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Moving on, I listened to some recordings of mine from ages 17, 19, and 20, and it alarms me a bit to say that I like my playing back then better than I like my playing now. Especially at age 17. I was much closer to my aesthetic ideal back then. I think conservatory derailed me into main-stream thinking for 4 years. Somehow I've got to get back. Back in the old days, my Bach was a pretty good (if mild) imitation of Glenn Gould - and you know what? It sounded really good. Now...now it's just a mush of half-piano style, half-harpsichord style, half-nothing style, a battlefield of differing opinions. I sound like nothing because I can't make up my mind.

I also listened to some chamber music recordings from the past couple years. I miss my girls, Sara, Rena, Joanne, Gaby. Making music is so much fun with someone else. Those were special times. These days making music is a lot of work. My lessons are fun, sometimes, when I'm not terrified or he's not kicking my butt. Then we start laughing and can't stop. A threatening comment like "I'm going to KILL you if..." usually sobers things up. Actually, he's one of the most wonderful, generous people I've ever come across, not to mention a fantastic pianist and teacher. I'm very lucky.

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Tonight I babysat two adorable, clever little American-German boys, ages 6 and 9. We played soccer for a long time in their attic, and the older boy showed me all sorts of tricks. Sometimes I wonder if I never developed beyond the 4th grade. There's something to be said for sweet little kids who just like you because. Because nothing. Just because. I like them too, just because.