And a Year Later...

 And a year later ...

I performed a 2-piano recital with my long time friend and colleague, Meg Gray (on faculty at Wichita State University).  When she proposed the idea almost three years ago (before Covid), my first thought was "I'll have to use music."  But then I decided that I really wanted to do a 2-piano program, and this presented an opportunity to get back to the piano, which I had not touched since my Mom died in 2018.

My husband and I have performed 2-piano works in the past.  Mostly concerto movements, and I memorized my part, so the whole dyslexia thing never bothered me.

Meg chose the program, and from the very beginning, I realized this program presented problems I had never considered.  The program she chose was Bach "Sheep May Safely Graze", Brahms Hungarian Dances Nos. 3 and 17, and Waltzes Nos. 14 and 15, the Milhaud "Scaramouche", and the Pinto "Scenes of Childhood".  The Bach and the Brahms are technically one piano four hands, but we played them on two pianos, which I consider more fun anyway.

The problems I ran into included the choral-type of composition in the Bach piece, which meant multiple voices and multi-directional stems, which added up to a lot of visual confusion, especially since I was on Secondo.  The Secondo of the Brahms dances and waltzes meant a lot of octave work, which was okay, and also a lot of jumping around with the octaves, which meant me getting lost in the score.  Again. And again.  AND AGAIN.

Then came the Milhaud.  After watching YouTube recordings and the BLAZINGLY fast tempos taken, I realized I would have to memorize the first and third movements to play them at performance tempo.  But the first movement is written out improvisation, with no traditional rhyme or reason, and so memorizing proved a challenge, playing it by memory at tempo proved a greater challenge.  The constant jumping from one end of the keyboard to the other cemented the fact that I could not watch the score and play at the same time.

The Pinto presented similar challenges.  More tonal than the Milhaud and making more musical sense, the five movements still presented problems that memorization did not completely resolve.  Besides, I was looking at memorizing an hour of 2-piano music, which made me uncomfortable for several reasons, the chief one being the threat of getting off with Meg and not being able to get things back together again.

In the majority of concerto music there are breaks when the orchestra takes over and the soloist takes a rest.  Not so with 2-piano repertoire.  Both pianos go non-stop from beginning to end, and if one pianist loses their place and is trying to play by memory, all kinds of problems rear their ugly heads.

I'm not saying I won't play another 2-piano program.  Now that I understand better the handicap I face when trying to play 2-piano works, I'll go into future program possibilities with my eyes wide open.

It's times like this that I really envy "normal" readers.  2-piano collaboration should be FUN, an opportunity for 2 pianists to get together and make some really really cool music.

Dyslexia takes all the fun out of it.

For those of you interested in watching our performance at Wichita State University, here is the link to the video:

https://www.facebook.com/WSUSchoolofmusic/videos/1639801973045516

Old Problems, New Perspective, Part 2

 And, four months later....

I didn't really mean to wait so long to finish this thread.  I'm not exactly sure what got in the way.  But four months later I can give some updated perspective on reading issues and the crippling effect on one's ego and sense of equality among music colleagues when a multi-talented pianist (yes, specifically those ivory ticklers) can't speed-read.

I love jazz, and have several of Dave Brubeck's CDs.  He passed away recently, and I decided to Google his history and music career.  He was a MAJOR contributor to jazz style, his reputation, talent, and influence spanning over multiple generations.  So I was dumbstruck when I read (admittedly on Wikipedia) that Stanton University almost didn't allow him to graduate at the end of his senior year in their music program because he could not pass a speed-reading test.  Here is a musician with incredible technical skills, compositional skills, as well as arrangement skills.  He literally had it all.  Except the speed-reading part.  And the powers-that-be almost denied him his right to graduate.  They finally agreed to award him his degree, with the following condition:  he could never teach piano.

How many talented students have fallen through the cracks, been told they cannot be musicians, to go into another field that will "pay the bills", because of sight-reading issues?  It's the equivalent of telling a blind person they cannot read because they can't visually see the words.  Or telling a paraplegic they can't be an athlete because they can't physically run.  Yes, dyslexia is a handicap.  It does NOT mean that person cannot be a brilliant musician.

Think of the loss to the jazz community if Dave Brubeck had listened to his professors and quit music because he couldn't pass a speed-reading test.

Every time I attend a presentation, sight-reading is mentioned as a necessary tool to build and cultivate among piano students.  Never is there any mention about students (and we're talking close to 20%) who have issues of some kind with reading and playing at the same time.   The unspoken rule is that only those who sight-read well are worth cultivating.  Those "problem" students who have persistent reading issues just won't make it in the music field.

Those "problem" students often have greater musical sensitivity, insight, and teaching ability because of their own reading struggles than those to whom reading comes easily.  The keyboard world needs to let go of old stereotypes and assumptions and realize that "speed-reading ability does not the talented musician make".

Old Problems, New Perspective

 Recently, I pulled out three piano solo works that I attempted (and failed.  Abysmally.) to perform thirty years ago.  Each of the three presented insurmountable problems both in technique and in reading.  But primarily in reading.  I was thirty, freshly out of university, where I got thrown out of three voice studios because I couldn't sight-read the material, and therefore was forced to change my degree from a Bachelors in Performance to Bachelors in Musical Arts six months before graduation. I was painfully aware that I could not simultaneously read and play. To complicate matters, I could not understand why I could not sight-read.  As a pianist, sight-reading is a basic task, absolutely necessary to be considered a legitimate pianist. I had slaved through tested-and-proven methods of learning to sight-read, and failed those miserably.  My husband and I played for church service every week, but instead of reading the score, I used chord symbols so I only had to read the treble clef, which of course did not help my overall problem.  So, I decided to tackle the issue from the other end.  That is, I chose outrageously difficult pieces to learn, which to my way of thinking, could only help me when I later chose works that didn't look like the composer suffered an epileptic fit....

Wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  I embarrassed myself multiple times when I tried to perform these pieces.  If it had been only a memory problem, I could have fixed that.  My issues ran to basic note reading; that is, not understanding (at all) the patterns on the page, no matter how much I practiced.  As a result, memory became as insurmountable a problem as trying to read the notation.

The first work I attempted was the Chopin Ballade, Op.38.  I had (mostly) successfully learned and performed the A-flat Ballade (Op.47).  I loved the foreshadowing created in the introduction of the second ballade, and I loved the explosion of emotion when the piece turns to a minor.  It looked scary, lots (and lots) of accidentals that covered up the notes I needed to identify.  But it was the shortest of the four ballades, and I decided to tackle the beast.  The problem I encountered was my inability to recognize chord patterns among all the accidentals.  Chopin exploits the diminished seventh pattern all over that piece, and I see that clearly now, thirty years later.  The question I can't answer is why couldn't I see those patterns thirty years ago, straight out of five years of music theory and lessons?

The second piece I'm revisiting is the Prokofiev Toccata.  I have loved this work ever since the first time I heard it.  When I first looked at the score, my initial reaction was no way.  There was no way I could ever learn this piece, because I couldn't see the page for all the notes.  And accidentals.  Again. All over.  Forget whether I possessed the technique to play the darned thing.  But I worked on it anyway, precisely because I felt it could only help my reading problem.

Sound ridiculous?  Like I lost some (or all) my marbles?

Yes, I agree.  It was ridiculous.  But then, with my inability to read and play, trying to become a functional pianist was also ridiculous.

Stay tuned....

Updates, Downdates, and Hackers

 First, some updates.

My professional website got hacked.  Try as I might, I've not been able to fix the issue, so I've taken the website down.  Maloypianostudios.com no longer exists.  As much as I would like to rant about hackers, computer viruses, and users who get their kicks posting porn on my website, I will keep my opinions to myself.

I still have Facebook pages.  At least for now.  F. Lynn Godfriaux hosts the three suspense/thrillers I've published, and the poetry book I self-published ten years ago.  The Dyslexic Musician will have to double as my pseudo website.  I'm really losing interest in online "opportunities".  Scams abound, and I've fallen for more than my fair share.

Now, the downdates.

I've gotten a couple of inquiries lately about teaching blind students.  I really appreciate the interest in taking piano lessons, but dyslexia and blindness are two completely different problems.  And while I have personal experience with dyslexia and have found ways to cope with my own and also with students with reading issues, I have absolutely no experience with how to approach a student with serious sight issues.  And that's a bummer, because it would be cool to be able to help.

Hackers.

Everybody hates them.  Need I say more?

Dyslexia.  It never goes away.  But I'm working on solo and duo-piano repertoire, brushing up on my theory and analysis, and coaxing my aging gray cells into memorizing a list of my all-time favorite piano pieces.

Post Script: Losses, Transitions, and Adjustments

Well, I'm working on the adjustment phase of practicing.  

That is, I caved and am memorizing most of the two-piano repertoire.  I can't explain it, but this is what happens when I try to read and play:

1.  I immediately understand the score if I'm just studying it, not trying to play it.

2. I immediately recognize patterns from the score on the keyboard, if I'm playing and not looking at the score, or if I'm looking at the score and not playing.

3.  I lack the ability to combine the two.  Period.  The piano is a stranger when I'm trying to play while reading, but becomes instantly familiar and recognizable when I'm playing by memory.

So, trying to force myself to read and play at the same time has created a bottomless pit of frustration.  And, yes, discouragement and depression.  Finally, I "gave up" and started memorizing, and voila!

This sounds more than strange, I know, and I can't explain it.  Dyslexia?  Stupid Brain Syndrome?  I have no idea.

But I can play the repertoire, now that it's off the page and in my head.

Loss, Transitions, and Adjustments

Its' been a little over two years since Mom and Dad passed away.  I haven't touched the piano in the interim, though I've continued to teach.  I gave a presentation on teaching approaches from a sideways angle last year at the CSMTA 2019 State Conference ("When Sideways is Forwards").  That seems such a long time ago.  I got really positive feedback and a couple of invitations to present to area teachers groups ...

... and then the coronavirus showed up.

The whole virus lock down threw everyone into the Twilight Zone, shut down my studio like most teachers, and gave me a whole lot of time on my hands.  So I started practicing again.  Since I hadn't played in so long I didn't have anything readily by memory to fall back on, so I pulled out some favorite pieces I haven't played in years, thinking they would at least look and feel familiar.

I realized as I started slogging through pieces I've played several times over my career, that I hoped the two-year hiatus would have "cured" my reading (i.e., dyslexic) issues.  After all, I had played these pieces, so visual and tactile patterns should be familiar....right?

Memorization clicked in a whole lot faster than I thought it would.  So did my technique.  As for my score reading...well, it sucked.

Then a long-time friend and colleague contacted me about putting together a two-piano program, and internally I freaked out because I thought no way could I play a program with music.  But I'm so sick and tired of what I can't do that I decided poor reading or not, I wanted to jump on the opportunity.

So during the lock down I've been slogging through familiar and unfamiliar music.  Familiar music is well on the way to being re-memorized, and technique isn't too shabby.  After about a month into trying to learn the two-piano material, I realized there was no way I'd be able to play this stuff unless most of it was memorized.  So while I've got the music in front of my face and I'm trying to follow it as much as possible, I have to accept the fact that I can't read as fast as I can play, and that I really do play better when I don't have to rely on the score.

It's still very much a work in progress, and I'm still in the bad days and not-as-bad days, but I really do want to do this program, and I really do want to be able to read it as I'm playing... at least mostly.

But realistically, my best performing occurs when I've got most of the program memorized.  And I admit that I'm bummed about that.

Dyslexia sucks sometimes.

Belated Blogger

It's been six months since my last post.  I really meant to post at least monthly, but obviously that didn't happen.  I could come up with a whole slew of reasons/excuses, but the honest truth is I haven't wanted to talk about dyslexia lately.  I've been trying to learn new repertoire.  And I've struggled with reading the damned things.  Again.  Same old struggle.  And it's been getting to me.  I'm considered a "senior" now, and so fears of diminishing mental capacity lurk among my daily thoughts.  Add dyslexic struggles, and I've been, well, not wanting to face how dyslexia might affect "Senioritis".

Of course my mental muscles still work.  In fact, they are working just fine, especially after discovering recently that my lung function needed a little help with an inhaler.  (It's amazing how much more alert one feels with proper oxygen saturation).  And I've lived with dyslexia my entire life so I should be comfortable with the struggles I face whenever I'm trying to learn a new piece.

I've just gotten really tired of the struggle lately.  My husband keeps telling me to write a book on dyslexia as a musician.  I've got all the notes written down.  Friends and colleagues urge me to get it done.  I've thought about working up a l-o-n-g overdue solo recital program to prove to myself (yet again) that I really can play, it's just the reading part that's annoying.

The struggle never changes.  It never gets easier.  And after years and years (and YEARS) of never winning the same fight over and over, the last six months have seen me seriously reflecting on whether to ... well, to be blunt about it ... to quit.

I hate that word.  I heard it all through my formative years when I wanted to be a pianist.  "You can't read well enough to pursue music.  You need to quit and do something else."

And my instinctive reaction was always, "Hell, no!  I'm not quitting!"

That reaction is still inside, poking me in the chest with a proverbial finger whenever I feel like throwing in the musical towel.  So, no.  I'm not going to quit.  And, no,  I don't really want a kick in the butt to get me going again, either.

There are tons of sayings about these kinds of trials.  "Ride out the storm." "Keep putting one foot in front of the other." "You need a storm in order to get a rainbow."

My personal favorite is attributed to Winston Churchill: "When you're going through hell ... keep going."

Hell comes in many forms, all intensely personal, all legitimate issues.  Hopefully, all at some time will get better.

So, I will keep going.  Maybe not very fast, but still in a forward direction ... to the piano.  After all, it represents an intimate part of my identity, of who I am. Struggles included.