Avery Cotton
@averyccourant
Having played the piano for somewhere in the ballpark of a decade, I began to genuinely enjoy playing and creating music remarkably late in my journey.
I only began to think that I understood what I was doing two summers ago when, for the first time, my teacher and I started discussing why the composers decided to add a certain element or passage to a given piece. (Musical analysis, if you will.)
I fondly remember a certain passage from Chopin’s Revolutionary Etude, which, as my piano teacher described to me, was the manifestation of Chopin’s turbulent emotions upon hearing that his home country, Poland, had been taken by the Russian military. Her words stuck in the back of my mind as I furiously churned through the cascading arpeggios as I practiced, getting chills in the process, approaching one mini-summit after the next. Somehow, situating the etude in its historical context allowed me to inject real emotion into my performance.
It was also around this time that I began to dabble in casual improvisation (at the risk of sounding pretentious), which provided me with a creative outlet from technical exercises and the often painstaking process of learning a new piece or the inevitable upkeep required with an older one. I would sit down at the piano bench on those warm evenings, the room bathed in olive light that trickled in through the windows and cast leafy shadows on the adjacent wall, and I would let my hands freely flow across the keys. It made little difference to me whether the music sounded good – these sessions comprised a trial-and-error process that revitalized my love for my instrument.
Perhaps my favorite thing about improvisation is that no two sessions are ever the same. I often like to think that each time I sit down to improvise, I’m weaving together tapestries of notes that will never again be played in that precise order. Now, don’t get me wrong – there isn’t exactly a whole lot of variation in my improv repertoire, and I find myself returning to the same motifs (musical ideas) repeatedly.
You might ask, what have I actually learned? What is music to me?
I would describe music as auditory art. Like all good paintings, good music has an interesting backstory and should allow performers and listeners alike to become teleported to another world. Music is all about interpretation – though you’re taking sheet music and attempting to be faithful to the composer, you also weave in your own emotions and phrasing. Feeling genuine emotion during a performance can elevate your playing, and sheer technique can’t compensate for inner passion.
Although music can provide a gateway to new methods of self-expression, it can often be very difficult to start learning an instrument. “Learning the tenor sax was very hard initially because I couldn’t get the airflow to work properly, but eventually I figured it out, and after that, it became easier,” junior and band ex-officio Ryan Ross said.
According to Ryan, playing the piano is much different. “Piano, on the other hand, is just a constant learning curve, and there’s always more to learn,” he said. “For instance, I’ve never used the middle pedal, and some songs do use it and when that comes I need to learn how to properly use it. Piano, at its core, is about technique: there’s always better technique to use and it’s a work in progress.”
I can echo this sentiment. Because of the large number of keys, the nuances between each hand, and the fact that the piano is historically one of the most popular instruments with a huge body of musical works tied to it, there’s always another piece out there that incorporates a different, more advanced level of technique.
Switching between genres, too, is difficult, with stark disparities underlying two of the most popular genres: Baroque and Romantic. (Sorry Mozart – we’ll mention Classical at a later date.) In Baroque pieces (think Bach), you’re expected to play methodically, with rhythm and articulation being crucial. A high attention to detail is required, and your focus must be nearly unwavering as you move from one passage to the next.
Romantic music is much different. Here, you’ll often take one theme and explore countless variations, and the pieces tend to span a wider range of dynamics and phrasing in an attempt to capture more emotion. The Romantic era, spanning approximately 1820-1900, was characterized by more drama and story-telling. In pieces from this period, you’ll reach euphoric heights and also tragic lows, sometimes within individual pieces. Chopin’s oeuvre is packed with examples of this – for those interested, I’d highly recommend checking out pianist Grigory Sokolov’s breathtaking recording of the Ocean Etude.
Jazz, too, is a whole different story. “With jazz pieces, I’m expected to know certain chord changes and song progressions which I used to not understand well. These are all grounded in music theory and also revolve around improvisation,” Ryan, who’s also a member of the jazz band, said.
Music often runs in the family, spanning generations and allowing people to carry on the legacy of genres and culture that belonged to their time. “I was inspired to start playing the tenor sax because both of my brothers had also played,” senior and drum major Daniel Ristic said. “As a result, I was exposed to instrumental music and jazz early on and had the notion of playing it from the very start.”
As one of two drum majors, Daniel assumes an important leadership role within the band. “It’s similar to being a conductor or band director – you put yourself out there if anyone needs help or is having an issue,” Daniel said. “In general, you assist with administration, but I’ve also conducted in a concert. During rehearsals I’ve helped lead the band through the song with behind-the-scenes work involving marking up key passages and working on them.”
While each of our experiences with music might be different, one thing tends to be universal among anyone who listens to or plays music: its ability to form connections. “It’s always great to play in collaborative concerts, because every person who’s involved in instrumental music combines, which is extremely memorable,” Daniel said.
Ryan concurs with this, recalling a particularly profound experience at a senior home. “As we were playing, there was one woman who got up and started singing and dancing during the piece,” Ryan said. “The music moved her and brought her joy, and that was very meaningful to see. Seeing the joy that people can bring to literally anybody is pretty profound.”
Communities such as New Canaan offer great opportunities for students to participate and contribute their talent. “I played in the New Canaan town band over the summer alongside people of all ages and backgrounds, rehearsing for a few hours every week,” senior and drum major Daryl Lavin said. “Playing at events such as the Fourth of July fireworks show provided a great time to talk and meet new people who you’d have never known otherwise, and to give back to the local community, creating joy from music.”
More competitive settings also provide enriching experiences. “When I’ve gone to festivals such as All-State or All-Eastern, it was amazing to play with excellent trombone players from across the country,” Daryl said. “I got to observe the different types of music they were playing and new techniques that I wasn’t familiar with, and it brought a new perspective to my playing. I also made many new friends.”
For students interested in picking up an instrument or pursuing a music program, these three musicians all offer the same advice: patience and practice.
Daryl sums it up well: “Make a plan of playing productively every day as often as possible. Record yourself practicing so you can hear what it sounds like to other people, and work on areas that you feel should be improved.”
