The Power of Listening

I often tell people that I wasn't really musical until I started taking piano lessons at the age of 26, but that statement isn't entirely true. I did have some early music experiences that helped me become the musician I am today. My uncle taught me how to whistle when I was five years old, and to this day I still whistle whenever I am happy. Then when I was thirteen I joined the church choir and have been participating ever since. But there was something even more important to my development than these avenues of musical expression: listening.

The benefits of having listened to music for more than two decades before learning to play an instrument weren't obvious at first, when I was still focusing on rudimentary note reading and fingering skills. But as soon as I started to learn some chord-style piano techniques I began to add embellishments to songs and make them "my own." One of the first songs I learned that sounded like "real" music to me was the song "Moon River" by Henry Mancini, which has long been a favorite of mine. Over the years I made small changes to my arrangement of "Moon River"--tweaking notes here and there, substituting chords, etc., until I realized that "my" version sounded very much like a version I had listened to frequently about a decade previously. This revelation--that I had been slowly transforming a song into something that so closely resembled music I had heard many years before--was surprising, and the fact that I had been doing it without any conscious thought whatsoever opened my eyes to the true power of listening.

There are two ways to learn rhythm: by looking at music notation or by hearing a song. I encourage my students to develop both skills. Being able to play rhythms simply by looking at them allows them to play songs they have never heard before, but being able to listen to a song and get the rhythm into their heads can also be extremely useful. There are some music teachers that refuse to play a song that a student is learning to play because they want to ensure that their students are actually reading the notes and not just trying to play by ear. I understand where they are coming from, because it's important for students to develop basic note reading competency. But once my students reach a certain point I usually agree to play through a new song once for them so they can at least know what they are working towards. This is because I recognize the power of listening, and in my own experience it is the combination of note reading and listening skills that enables expressive playing.

For several years I wanted to learn to play the song "Killing Me Softly." I had the sheet music, but my attempts were less than satisfying. I didn't have a lot of spare time to count the rhythms and play through the song with a metronome (which was my typical approach), but while I was at work one day I decided to put on headphones and listen to the recorded version of the song repeatedly throughout the day. The next time I sat down at the piano I was looking at the very same notes I had tried to play before, but this time I knew the song inside and out and was able to play it quite well. This experience convinced me of the power of listening, and ever since it has been one of the secret weapons I use to enhance my playing.

Right-hand Techniques for Chord Style Piano

In my previous blog entry I introduced a variety of left hand techniques to enhance chord style playing. But what about the right hand? In standard notation the right hand often plays more than a single note, and there are chord style piano techniques that allow us to do the same thing.

One option for adding additional right hand notes is to find an arrangement featuring two notes for the right hand as well as chord symbols. Usually this requires finding a complete standard notation version of a song and sometimes it can work well. There are two drawbacks to this approach, however. First, it requires additional time and practice to learn to read and play more than one note at a time on the treble clef. Second, and perhaps more significantly, the chords won't always sound with the additional notes being played. This is because music arrangers expect musicians to either play the full arrangement of a song or to play just a single melody note along with the chord. They don't usually try playing their arrangements with left hand chords and multiple right hand notes to make sure it sounds okay when played that way.

A better option is to ignore any non-melody notes that you might see on the treble clef and just make your own decisions about which additional notes to play with your right hand, using the chord symbol as a guide to ensure that every note will fit. This technique is somewhat advanced and can require a lot of practice to perfect, but it can help certain songs sound more "full."

In the example below I am using 6th and 5th intervals in the right hand, with octave chords roots being played by the left hand. Note that even if a lead sheet only features a single melody note, any chord note can be added to the right hand, as long as it is BELOW the melody note and not so far away that both notes can't be played with one hand:

If we can play octaves with the left hand, why not play them with the right hand? You might be surprised how much more full this can make a song sound. In slower songs playing the lower note of an octave just a little bit before the higher note can also create a very pleasing and beautiful effect:

Finally, we'll look at adding "fills" with the right hand. Note that in this example, even though the melody might sound a little bit different than what we're used to hearing, all of the original melody notes are still played. We're just adding extra notes in between some of the melody notes. These extra notes, in most cases, simply came from the notes that are contained in the chord. For example, in the first measure I added an E note, which is safe because E is one of the notes in the C major chord:

Left-hand Techniques for Chord Style Piano

I have been playing chord style piano for about nine years and absolutely love it. But when I first started music lessons I felt like chord style piano was the lazy person's way to play simplified songs until they could gain enough skills to play the "real way." I think this idea came from a misguided belief that chord style piano simply involved playing the melody notes with my right hand while playing block chords at the beginning of each measure with my left hand. While this is a first step to learning very basic chord style songs, I now realize that chord style piano IS a "real way" to play and that there are many techniques that can be used to make songs sound MUCH BETTER than many of the note for note arrangements I used to play. Personally, I find it easier to play sophisticated sounding songs using chord style techniques than by using any other method. Chord style piano also allows me to be more creative, making song arrangements that are uniquely my own. Also, because I don't have to use all of my mental faculties to focus on reading individual notes, chord style piano allows me to be more expressive and make use of the piano's full range of pitches while executing more complex rhythms with my left hand than I am able to do when I'm reading notes. Using chord style piano techniques allows me to feel the music instead of just thinking about it. As an added bonus, because the same chords are used over and over again in different songs, once I learned a handful of chords I saw those same patterns again and again. This allowed me to get more "bang for my buck" when learning new songs, and eventually playing chords was as easy as buttoning a shirt or riding a bike: I was able to do it reflexively without any conscious thought.

Every child learns her native language simply by listening and repeating what she hears, not by learning to read first. Yet traditional music lessons do the opposite: note reading is taught first and note playing is taught second. This approach is logical and effective, and with dedication and practice it can produce very capable musicians. However, it doesn't work for everyone. How many people do you know who took a few years of piano lessons and decided it wasn't for them? Perhaps you are one of those people! But maybe if you had been introduced to chord style piano you would have been able to play more of the music you loved (whatever it was) and found music lessons more enjoyable. In my experience chord style piano is both easier and better than traditional classical instruction, as it allows students to play the songs they really want to play much more quickly than they could otherwise.

In this blog entry I'm going to introduce, through a series of videos, various techniques that demonstrate what's possible with chord style piano from the very simplest methods to more advanced styles. I included standard notation for both the right hand and left hand parts in each video to demonstrate how the left hand notes could be played, but in chord style piano the bass clef (left hand part) is either ignored by the musician or it isn't there at all. Songs that don't include the bass line and just have the melody and chord symbols are often referred to as "lead sheets," and compilations of lead sheets are sometimes called "fake books" -- not because you can't make real music with them, but because they don't contain note for note arrangements of songs. Instead of being told exactly which notes to play and how to play them, chord style musicians use chord symbols to understand the full array of possible harmony notes that might sound good with the melody. It's up to them to select which of those possibilities they want to incorporate into their playing. If a lead sheet begins with a C chord, any C, E or G note on the piano could theoretically sound good with the melody; however, there some C, E or G notes will work better than others. For example, playing the LOWEST C, E and G notes on the piano simultaneously produces a very "muddy" sound. Experience will help you learn which notes will work best in various situations.

My first video demonstrates the most basic chord-style technique. In this video the first line of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" is being played using block chords with the left hand. For those that may not be familiar with the term "block," it simply means playing all of the notes of the chord simultaneously. For example, a C major chord contains three notes: C, E and G. If I play the C, E and G notes all at once, that's called a block chord. If you'd like to learn how to play other common chords, check out this printable chord chart.

Here is what a basic chord style piano song sounds like:

Next I'll show an example of a chord style piano song that is being played using arpeggios instead of block chords. This simply means that the notes of the chord are separated in time rather than being played all at once. This technique is sometimes referred to as "broken chords" and they are featured prominently in Bach's "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring."

If you are new to chord style piano and start to feel overwhelmed by some of the more advanced techniques I'm about to present, don't worry. I'm simply trying to demonstrate what's possible with chord style piano, and with time and practice you will be able to more easily incorporate some of these techniques into your playing while you develop your own style.

Here is what it sounds like if arpeggios are played twice as fast as they were in the previous video. This example uses eighth notes instead of quarter notes in the left hand:

The next video illustrates a very useful technique that every chord style pianist should know: power chords. Power chords can be safely used to accompany just about any melody, usually with quite satisfying results. As mentioned above, a C major chord has three notes: C, E and G. If we only play the C and G notes and ignore the middle note, we're playing a power chord version of C (sometimes referred to as C5 because it uses the 5th tone of the C major scale). We could use these notes for a Cm chord as well, because the power chord tones (C and G) are the same for C minor as they are for C major:

Here is what happens if we play power chords while doubling the left hand tempo. Even though there is a G7 chord in the last measure, I am ignoring the "7" in this example and simply playing G and D notes (which are the "power chord" notes for the G chord) with the left hand:

Here is an "up and down" power chord pattern that can work well with certain songs. Notice the rhythmic change in the left hand part:

It is not necessary to play the left hand part the same way throughout an entire song. Using a variety of left hand techniques interchangeably can add depth to your playing, so this next example demonstrates a few different techniques. In the first measure I'll introduce a new pattern that I call the "ballad" pattern. The ballad pattern involves playing the root, fifth, octave, ninth and tenth scale tones and can sound great in slower songs. To play this pattern for a C chord, start with a C note, then play the G above that, the C above that, the D above that and the E above that. Note that the ninth tone  (D) isn't part of the C major chord, but it can still sound good in many situations. The rest of the song uses different inversions of block chords. I selected these particular inversions because it created a descending bass line for the last 5 chords (the bass note starts with G and moves down the notes of the scale to C). A good bass line, in my opinion, is second only to a great melody. In certain fake books you might see a chord notation like "G/D." This doesn't mean you can choose to play a G or a D chord; it means you are supposed to play a G chord with a D as the root (lowest) note. If you are just starting out with chord style piano, I would suggesting ignoring those "slash" chords and just playing a standard G chord. But as your skills develop you may discover that playing the recommend inversion (C/G, for example) can sound quite good. In some cases, slash chord notes aren't part of the chord itself. For example, F/G can sound great in the right situation, even though G isn't one of the three notes in the F chord:

In my last video I'll demonstrate a fun technique that involves hitting a single chord note and then playing the full chord an octave higher. In the first measure I alternated between the C and G notes for the root note to add interest and variety, but in the rest of the measures I simply used the root note of whatever chord was being played:

Chord style piano is a set of tools and techniques that's versatile enough to be used by professional musicians, beginners and intermediate players alike. In my experience it's especially useful for adults who want to learn to play the piano, and it will help new players create more satisfying music more quickly than any other method I know.  As an adult learner myself (I started playing at the age of 26), I am living proof that this approach WORKS! In fact, I released a Christmas album featuring chord-style arrangements of some of my favorite songs. It's called "Christmas Notes" and you can listen to it on iTunes, Spotify, Amazon and bandcamp. I had been playing chord style piano for about 8 years when I started working on this album. Listen to the music to discover the possibilities that chord style piano can offer, then get started on your own chord style piano journey today!

Embracing Mistakes

There are many different theories about the role mistakes play in live music performance. In my opinion music educators spend far too much time teaching students how to avoid mistakes and far too little time helping students know what to do when they make them.

When I first started playing piano, mistakes were an enemy that could not be vanquished. Through proper practice and effective technique I was able to reduce the number of mistakes I made, but eradicating them entirely seemed like an absolute impossibility. They would always resurface at the most inconvenient times -- usually when I was performing for a live audience. I used my practice sessions to develop muscle memory as well as I possibly could, and I tried to select pieces that were appropriate for my skill level. But still mistakes would show up exactly when I least wanted them to, and the harder I tried to eliminate them the worse I played. After a large number of public failures I decided that a new approach was in order and I began to embrace my mistakes.

Embracing rather than erasing mistakes might seem counterintuitive, but it significantly improved the way I practice and play. Music is a language, and when you know a language well enough there is usually, if not always, a way to redeem yourself when you make a mistake in a conversation. For example, I might be having a conversation with a friend in which I want to say, "Don't forget to call your mother." But if I start by saying some filler words like, "I think ... " then I can still successfully convey my thought by finishing the sentence with "... that you should definitely remember to call your mother." Music, like language, has syntactical logic and conveys emotion and meaning. Like language, it has a set of rules. But also like language we understand that some rules were made to be broken (if you've ever been privy to a text conversation between two teenagers, you are probably well-versed in the flexible nature of language). Music has a certain flexibility as well, although the degree to which it can be bent to your will depends upon the audience, the style of music being played and the song itself. But if, for example, I am on stage performing an arrangement and meant to play an A note, but instead I played a G, that is certainly a mistake, However, if I now move -- in a rhythmic way -- to the A note, it might have the unexpected effect of actually ENHANCING the original tune. This is because music ultimately is an aural experience. The notes written on a page may be the notes the composer intended, and they may sound absolutely amazing when played perfectly and expressively. But the notes on the page are not the only possible notes that could be used. Some variations--purposeful or otherwise--can be made without the audience even noticing, and some may even sound better than the composer or performer intended or expected. Even rhythm, as important as it is, allows a certain amount of flexibility. A slightly faster tempo at the beginning of a measure followed by a slightly slower tempo--purposeful or otherwise--can be used as an effective expressive device, and again it can enhance the original tune.

If you are in a piano competition where judges are looking for performers to robotically duplicate what is on a printed page, then the techniques I'm describing in this blog entry are definitely not for you. But in most settings they can be quite effective, and they can keep performers from making one of the biggest mistakes that performers so often make: focusing on mistakes so much when they happen that it draws the audience's attention to them (and tormenting themselves after every imperfect performance). In my case, the more I focused on my mistakes the more I made them. As soon as I started learning how to gracefully recover from a mistake my playing improved dramatically. Now instead of playing a passage over and over until I can play it perfectly, I work towards perfection while playing "around" the tune, learning how to avoid the worst mistakes and how to recover from the others. Then if I make one of those not-great-but-not-horrible mistakes while performing, I know exactly how to make it sound "right."

Jazz improvisers understand that there are no mistakes in improvisation--only unexpected turns. When I am teaching students how to improvise, this is the first thing that I tell them. Many of my students confuse improvisation with composing and first. While the two endeavors are definitely related, improvisation is composing in real time without pausing--whereas composition is, by definition, a stop-and-go process. In order to improvise well, a student must be able to lose her inhibitions and allow some less-than-ideal notes to pass by, more frequently at first and then less frequently as the practical application of music theory becomes more natural. If the student sees every unexpected turn as a mistake, improvisation will feel like continual failure and inhibitions will increase instead of decrease.

I once heard a cocktail pianist say that when he makes a mistake he sometimes repeats that mistake in subsequent phrases to make it sound like he did it on purpose the first time. This may not be the right approach for your preferred style of music (and some mistakes are so jarring that they really shouldn't be repeated in ANY style of music), but there are times when it can work quite well. This strategy can apply to both note and rhythm errors. For example, if you are playing a song that begins with four quarter notes and accidentally begin the song by holding the first note longer than the second, why not continue that pattern and apply a sort of "swing" effect to the whole song, or at least to that section?

Human beings tend to gravitate towards whatever they are focusing on. If you are crossing a narrow bridge and someone behind you says, "Don't look down," that's usually the first thing you will do. If we as musicians find ourselves focusing too intently on our mistakes: worrying about them before we perform, thinking "This is the place where I always mess up" as we begin playing a difficult section, and dwelling on our mistakes for days or weeks after we make them, then mistakes will continue to play a prominent role in our music. But if we prepare as well as we can before a performance, if we teach ourselves not just how to avoid mistakes but also how to respond when they happen, and if we let them slide by without acknowledging them any more than absolutely necessary--occasionally even welcoming them as friends and making them part of the music we are playing--then our audiences will likely never even notice them and we can begin to focus on our ever-expanding repertoire of success. Perhaps there is even a life lesson buried somewhere in this advice about music.

Taking the Stage

With the advent of the holiday season, I've spent quite a bit of time performing in recent weeks. Some of the settings where I performed were comfortable and familiar, and some were quite new and different. Every time I perform in front of an audience I am reminded of the journey I have been on for the past eleven years while learning to play piano, and I can see both how far I have come and how far I have yet to go.

When I first started playing piano, even just thinking about performing for an audience made my heart beat faster (and not in a good way). I am fairly comfortable in public speaking settings and have been for many years, but playing an instrument is an entirely different experience. The only way I've been able to overcome the fear and anxiety that still plague me to some degree is to force myself to perform in public settings often. Whether or not my performance meets my high standards, I can learn something from each attempt: how to play on different instruments in different settings, how to roll with the punches, how to interact with different audiences, how to prepare for the next performance and how to keep my thoughts from sabotaging my current one. In this blog entry I'm going to share some tips that have helped make my performances more successful. I've divided my comments into three sections: preparing (before the show), performing (in the moment), and evaluating (after the show).

PREPARING

Most of what makes a show successful happens long before the show itself. I can't emphasize enough how important it is to select the right song arrangements to perform. There have been many times when I chose a particular arrangement because of its beautiful sound, only to have things go wrong during a performance in spite of my many, many hours of practice. Knowing what is and isn't within my grasp is something I've had to learn the hard way. There are many songs that I can play well when I am in the comfort of my own home, but in a performance situation everything changes. Instead of selecting pieces that are almost--but not quite--out of reach, I have learned that it can take weeks, months or years to perfect certain songs and that trying to publicly perform arrangements that are on the very edge of my playing ability is usually a very bad idea.

When preparing for a performance I like to start by exploring my various song options. It's good to have a mix of familiar favorites as well as some songs that aren't quite as familiar and even a few brand new songs to avoid stagnation. I then create an initial list of songs and play through each of them while timing them with a stopwatch. I then try to select more songs than I will actually need for the performance so that I can remove the hardest ones from the list in the final days before the concert if I don't feel like I'm quite ready to perform them.

Once I have a rough set list in place, I then play through all of the songs again to get a feel for them and how they will sound when played in sequential order. I make adjustments to the sequence as needed, then I start working on each song individually, playing it over and over again until I can get through it without any mistakes at least once. I continue moving through my list a song at a time in this same fashion until I get to the point where I can play them all correctly on my first, second or third attempt. Then I go back to playing through the whole list, repeatedly going through the set exactly as I will when I'm performing it. During this phase I like to envision the venue where I will be playing and pretend I have an audience.

When a performance is only a few days away, the songs that I can't play "cold" (making few or no mistakes on my first try) will be cut from the final set list. On the day of the actual performance I allow myself to play through the set list just once, and I do it at the last possible minute so that I can arrive at my performance location warmed up and ready to play.

PERFORMING

I always start by playing something very comfortable and familiar, yet also appealing so that I can build on that initial success throughout the performance. I like to end with a comfortable (usually upbeat) song as well.

I've occasionally seen quotes that say something like, "The past is in the past and the future hasn't happened; the present is all we have." I'm still not entirely sure how those quotes relate to life, although I sense there is great truth there. However, when it comes to playing piano I've noticed that my thoughts while I am in the act of playing can work for or against me.

If I make a small mistake, whether or not I recover, dwelling on that mistake is ALWAYS a bad idea. The past is in the past -- I can't fix it, so why waste a single second worrying about it? There are still more notes to play, and that's what matters now.

There are times when my thoughts just drift to random things while I'm performing, like what I had for lunch that day or what a friend said to me in a conversation last week. It's nice to know certain songs so well that I can play them even on "autopilot," without any conscious thought. But sometimes my autopilot malfunctions, and by being present and keeping my thoughts focused on what I am doing I can be prepared for the unexpected. Another challenge I sometimes face while performing a piece is thinking/worrying about how the audience is feeling/reacting to my performance. The time to think about my audience is between songs. In the middle of a piece I need to stay focused on the task at hand.

And the future hasn't happened, so there's no need to start worrying about a page turn when it's still 20 measures away. If I do that, I'm wasting mental cycles that should be used to make sure I'm playing my current measure correctly. It's okay and even a good idea to look a little ahead and prepare for section transitions, page turns, etc. But anything that isn't on the immediate horizon should be disregarded, including anticipated applause at the end of a successful rendition. Thinking about that can prevent me from focusing on the notes I need to play right now! 

EVALUATING

On rare occasions I have had friends film my performances, and I have watched those videos to see if my own assessment of how I did mirrors objective reality. There's no better way to decide if a performance meets my own high standards than seeing it as if I'm in the audience. I don't always like what I see and hear, but I understand the importance of forgiving mistakes and not allowing them to erode my confidence. Even if a performance wasn't filmed, as long as the audience was appreciative and kind (and, even better, willing to invite me back) then I can only assume I at least did a "good enough" job.

Perhaps someday I will such a skilled musician that nervousness and mistakes will both be the farthest things from my mind when I'm performing. But at the moment they are a very real and very challenging part of every performance. The only way to improve is to keep trying, though, so if my last performance wasn't as good as I wanted then I can work harder to make sure that my next one is.

My Songwriting/Composing/Arranging Process

My composing/arranging process has continued to evolve over the years and I recently had a friend inquire about how to compose and arrange songs, so I thought I'd answer her question via a blog entry that others can read as well. I have experience composing songs with lyrics as well as instrumental works, and I will address both types of music here.

When I first started composing music there were two things that I found quite difficult (well, more than two but I'm only going to talk about two here). The first was the lack of fluidity that is a necessary part of the composing process. I didn't know how to capture musical ideas quickly in a way that also allowed me to play them again. For example, I could play a song while recording it with my iPhone but then when I listened to it again I could easily duplicate the melody but not the harmony. The second problem was knowing where to go next. I would be in the middle of writing what I felt was a great song and suddenly I'd finish a section and just have no idea what I wanted to do next.

It took some time, but eventually I began to find solutions to these problems. It helped a lot to just use a lead sheet format for notation at first and put the basic structure of a song in place (words, chords, melody). For vocal songs I always wrote the words first, and this provided a map for the music. For instrumental songs I originally just wrote the melody notes I was playing all as quarter notes and added chord symbols. Then I created a set of section by section audio recordings so I could listen to them later and figure out the rhythm. That allowed me to capture ideas quickly while composing, but it was still pretty difficult to figure out how to play sections of a song - especially after I hadn't worked on it for several weeks or months, as sometimes was the case. Later I started creating "placeholder" words for my original instrumental songs, or for introductions and transition parts. Seeing the words gave me a way to store the melody associated with those words in my brain (and I think it made my melodies more lyrical). The words I wrote could have been song lyrics, but I didn't refine them or spend a lot of time on them the way I would with actual song lyrics. I just made sure they had meter and rhyme and didn't worry about meaning, since they were just used as a mnemonic device to help me remember the melody. Once I figured out the melody to a section with placeholder words I would play it over and over again, and I'd also do an audio recording using the Voice Memos app on my phone just in case I somehow forgot it in spite of my efforts to memorize it. Most of the time I never needed to listen to that recording because having words was enough to help me remember the rhythm of the quarter notes I was looking at (that I hadn't bothered to turn into notes containing their actual rhythmic values). At that point I just used a pencil and a notebook with lined staff paper that I bought at music store for $3, and my written music was divided into phrases but not yet divided into measures (I hadn't even applied a time signature). I probably am just a slow learner, but for some reason taking as much time as it would require to write out the actual rhythms made the composition process very frustrating for me. It was kind of like saying, "Play the piano, which is fun, but stop every 30 seconds or so to do something that is NOT very fun and takes like 10 minutes. Oh and also if you have a really complex rhythm you probably won't notate it right anyway."

Over the years I continued to improve my site reading skills, and I learned how to transcribe piano music just by listening to it -- which was a very time-consuming process that taught me how to more accurately notate rhythms. I also purchased an iPad and in combination with a very useful app called Notion ($10 on the Apple store) I was able to notate music with a tool that could then play it back for me instead of just putting it on paper and hoping it was right. That way I was able to get instant aural feedback to tell me if I had correctly captured the musical idea I was trying to notate. It was a game changer for me, since I use my ear as a guide for much of my composing. In addition, I had purchased an electronic keyboard ($200) and a digital audio workstation program called Reaper ($60). This allowed me to play music in midi format and have it captured on a piano roll. In the past I had tried playing midi music directly into Sibelius ($400) with very disappointing results. Because I don't play like a robot, the software notated exactly what I played. If I paused a little before the downbeat on a particular measure, it would notate a 64th or 32nd rest and then if I held that note for the correct amount of beats at the end of that same measure it would have me crossing over into the next measure with a slur and a 64th or 32nd rest. Basically, it turned my music into uninterpretable garbage -- which really wasn't what I wanted. The piano roll, however, made a lot more sense to me (see example below):

By looking at the piano roll I knew exactly which notes I had played while recording and I could easily just listen to what I had recorded while watching the piano roll to identify the pitch and length of each note. It was MUCH better than having to listen to an audio recording and duplicate each sound with no visual assistance.

I wrote my first songs (sometimes on guitar and sometimes on piano) by coming up with a chord progression and then "finding" a melody that fit the chords, but later I tried composing melodies alone and then adding chords to them. This, in my opinion, produced a much better result as harmony became a slave to the more important element of melody rather than the other way around. For some reason I found it easier to sing the melody than to play it on piano, because when I played a melody on the piano I tended to follow familiar fingering patterns and get stuck in a rut. So I would sing a melody phrase by phrase into my recording device as I experimented with different vocal ideas. After I had sung all of the unique parts of the song (verse, chorus, bridge, etc.) I would then listen to it and notate the melody, adding chords to it afterwards. Since I am an imperfect vocalist, sometimes I found that my pitch would slide from one part of the song to the next. Usually I would fix this by keeping the song in the same key, but occasionally an accidental key change sounded okay so I left it in the final product. Finding the right chords to add to a melody requires a bit of music theory knowledge, such as knowing what key you are in and knowing the primary (I, IV, V, iv) chords for that key. It is also essential to know the various types of chord qualities (major, minor, dominant seventh, major seventh, augmented, etc.) and extensions (which are usually not essential at this stage of the composing process unless you are creating jazz music). It is also helpful to understand how chord functions work. For example. the IV and V7 chords lead back to the I chord, but the V7 chord leads more strongly than the IV chord. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, click here to read one of my previous blog entries about basic harmony.) And it's helpful to have a bit of knowledge about chord substitution to create a more unique and varied sound. For example, because the C chord and Am chord share two notes (C and E), these chords can sometimes be interchangeable. C and Em share the E and G notes and these chords are similarly interchangeable in certain cases. It is even possible to substitute a chord with something that isn't part of the primary key to create a unique harmonic effect.

When I first started writing music I kept it pretty much in the same key, as modulations were more advanced than my limited music theory knowledge. However, I studied the circle of fifths to learn how to make some key transitions and later I learned about pivot chords. Using a pivot chord, for example, I could be playing in the key of C and after playing the C chord I could play a Cm chord and the I was in the key of Eb. I also practiced various other key modulation techniques, sometimes using published sheet music as a guide.

Another thing that helped improve my songwriting/arranging/composing skills was a knowledge of structure (verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus is one example). In instrumental music the "rules" of structure are a little different than in songs with vocals, but it's still important to follow some kind of structure with repeating patterns to hold the song together. At first glance this might not seem very important, but if you listen to an instrumental hit song from any genre (classical, jazz, pop, new age, etc.) you will be able to hear the form of the song and identify repeating sections. Repetition and motif variation are absolutely essential to effective instrumental music composing and arranging. As a general rule, though, I try to avoid EXACT repetition and always try to change something when a particular section is repeated in an instrumental work. It may be something as subtle as a change in volume or moving from one register to another, but SOMETHING has to be different - otherwise I'm are wasting my listener's time. Modern listeners have access to recorded versions of songs that they can play on demand and simply don't have the patience that listeners in the era before recording technology was invented might have had. Song structure is often the answer to the problem of wondering "where to go" with a song. When I got done writing my first section, I labeled it as the verse or chorus and then proceeded to create another section, labeled that one, decided if I wanted to repeat something I had previously written or composed a bridge of some kind, then threw it together and listened to the end result. If it was only 56 seconds long (as was often the case when I first started writing songs) then I started thinking of strategies that I could use to extend the sections and/or add new sections that still fit within the song structure (for example, and intro or outro or pre-chorus or second bridge). Sometimes I've written two different short songs and, unsure how to proceed with the composition, I've set them aside only to realize later that if I put the two songs together in a creative way then I was able to create a full-length song. Sometimes the only thing I could do was set a song aside for a while and continue to improve my general music skills. When I came back to it 5 months later I was often surprised by the new ideas and skills I was able to bring to the composition process.

I recently released my first album. It's called Christmas Notes and is available on iTunes, Spotify, Amazon and Bandcamp. It took me about 4 months to arrange all 12 songs. Because I am so familiar with these Christmas tunes and have been hearing them my whole life, when I began arranging them I was able to play the melodies without any music in front of me. I was then able to experiment with the left-hand chords to get the harmonic texture that I wanted, and for the first several songs I simply wrote the chords above the lyrics so I'd remember them. Then I used an app called Notion on my iPad to write down the melodies and chords for each song, adding intros, transitions, conclusions, etc. I also created new melodies and wove them into the existing melodies in various ways. Sometimes my new melodies were based on the same harmonic chord pattern as the original song (a common jazz improvisation technique) and sometimes they featured completely new harmonic structures and time signature and/or key changes. After a while I skipped the lyric/chord process altogether and just started using Notion from the beginning to notate the melody and chords. I added a bass clef line to my music but I left most of the measures blank (which allowed me to later fill in those parts as I played the song and determined what notes I liked best). However, if there was something in particular that I really wanted to do a certain way with my left hand (such as a "walking" bass line or a chord inversion) I would notate that part of the bass clef and follow it. In some of the songs I also added fills that I never really wrote out -- I just played them by ear during the recording process. The result of this was that I knew essentially what notes to play but also had the creative freedom to make adjustments to the songs along the way rather than notating them in a more precise manner (which might have kept me from more fully developing them prior to recording them).

As strange as it might sound, mistakes play an important role in my composition process. As I'm playing along and make a mistake I might discover that I like the mistake I made better than what I had originally written and I can make adjustments accordingly. (An example of this is playing a note that is NEAR the actual note I wanted to play and then moving up or down to the note I originally intended; such a movement can create a very pleasing effect.)

I'm currently working on my second album and am going to be adding parts for instruments other than piano. This has required adding an additional step to my composing and arranging process. I've arranged one song so far and am working on my second. For the first song I made a piano arrangement including the melody and chords (similar to what I did for my Christmas album), then I printed sheet music and marked up the parts I wanted the piano to play and which parts I wanted the other instrument to play (and which parts would feature both instruments together). After that I downloaded the FL Studio app ($20) from the Apple Store. I painstakingly entered the notes from my lead sheet into FL studio and added a "placeholder" chord accompaniment. Then I went section by section whenever there was a duet featuring both instruments and experimented with potential harmony notes by using the virtual keyboard included in the app (while listening to the other instrument and placeholder chord accompaniment). This allowed me to use my ear to create more flowing harmonies than I would have been able to do by using my knowledge of music theory alone. Which brings up an important point: it's great to be an expert in music theory, but that will only help with the "craft" part of composing and arranging. When it comes to the more artistic elements, I ultimately let my ear be my guide. I've been listening to music your whole life and I know what is and isn't good when I hear it.

I'm sure there are much better and more efficient ways to compose than the ones I have been using, and I have no doubt that I will eventually discover them. However, I am not worried about efficiency at the moment. I'm composing songs, I'm learning and growing, and that's what really matters to me.

Music Notation

Ever since I started playing piano I have had a love-hate relationship with music notation, also known as "standard notation." On the one hand it is remarkable that a system for capturing and reproducing sound was developed long before the invention of recording technology, and without that system it is difficult to imagine how many of our favorite tunes would have been forgotten or changed beyond recognition. On the other hand it can at times be quite maddening both to play and to compose in a written language that isn't sound itself, but is instead a sometimes quite cryptic attempt to visually represent sound. At least, that's the way it seems to those who are new to the world of playing an instrument. It's almost like you are facing TWO monumental tasks instead of one: learning to speak the language of sound using your instrument of choice--which requires precisely synchronized body movements--and also learning to interpret the language of written notes.

When I was young I played melodies on the piano by rote memorization and by ear, but I also learned a few of the basics about reading music. I memorized the phrase "Every Good Boy Does Fine" to help me know how to play notes on the lines of the treble clef, and of course "FACE" helped me learn how to play notes on the spaces. I even learned a few chords such as C, F and G7 that allowed me to play with both hands simultaneously, but the bass clef eluded me and I wasn't very fast at reading the treble clef and so had to rely on a lot of memorization as well as listening to know if I was playing the right notes. This worked well for melodies, which stand out from the rest of the music, but not so well for harmonies. But even melodies were sometimes difficult for me. I remember learning to play The Star-Spangled Banner and discovering after I had practiced it several times that I had mistakenly started on the wrong note and therefore every other note was different from what was written on the page (although I was playing it "correctly" -- just in a different key). I had thought I was reading music but in truth I was simply playing by ear.

When I decided to learn to play the piano as an adult, I wanted to do it "right." In other words, I wanted to learn to play notes with both my right and left hands exactly as they were written. The ability I wanted most was to be able to open any music book and play beautifully, even if I had never before seen or heard the music. I didn't realize at the time just how lofty that goal was. For two years I practiced religiously, attended lessons regularly and did everything I felt I needed to do in order to achieve my desired result. But I found myself growing increasingly frustrated. Learning to play from written notes was quite difficult, and because I had been listening to "real" music my whole life I knew how vast the differences were between my playing and the playing of pianists I admired such as David Lanz, Paul Cardall and David Nevue. (As an aside, I have since learned that all three of those artists do not use standard notation when composing and playing). I also struggled with performance anxiety, which prevented me from successfully playing even pieces I knew well while others were listening. I came dangerously close to giving up altogether at that time, and if it hadn't been for my daughter asking me to play piano for her each night as she went to sleep and the arrival of someone I later nicknamed my "zen" piano teacher, I never would have learned to enjoy something that is now one of the richest and best parts of my life.

I was at a Jon Schmidt piano concert one night when, at the end of the concert, I walked into the lobby and heard someone playing piano every bit as well as Jon Schmidt had on stage. Furthermore, I recognized him--although I couldn't place him (I later realized that he had been a fellow member of a public speaking organization). I walked up and began a conversation, during which he continued to play with extraordinary skill without any music in front him. (I was and still am pretty impressed that he was able to play and talk to me at the same time.) He mentioned that he taught piano lessons, and we exchanged phone numbers and met for our first lesson the following week. Instead of the usual 30 minute lesson, this one lasted 3 hours. I began by playing a piece of music I knew quite well, but I was nervous and made several mistakes. When I finished playing he said to me, "I think you're better than that." I responded that I really wasn't, and that's when he told me that I needed to learn to see beyond the notes. At the time I had no idea what he meant, but I have since come to understand that music is ultimately an aural experience--not a written one. The particular tool that I use as a musician to express myself on my instrument is irrelevant. What matters is that I am able to create sounds that bring me pleasure. He then proceeded to show me several patterns and techniques involving chords that I have continued to use for the last decade. But more than that he helped build my confidence. I had, without realizing it, been holding onto a subconscious belief that I would never truly be a successful musician because I had learned to play later in life instead of starting lessons as a child. He identified and challenged that belief, and at the end of my first lesson he told me to go home and write a song. I told him I didn't know how to write a song, and he told me to do it anyway. So I did, and I was as surprised as anyone to discover that I had that ability. He also taught me to improvise, which was enjoyable for its own sake and also provided a foundation for creating better compositions. Our next few lessons went much the same way, with me continuing to express my negative views about what I could and couldn't do and what was and wasn't possible. He challenged my distorted assumptions and helped me push past my self-imposed mental limits, giving me a gift that I will never be able to repay and helping me achieve significantly better results. I was letting go of my fear and learning to overcome negative thinking and limiting beliefs not just at the piano but in every area of my life. We had two more lessons like that, and then a few shorter lessons before our paths diverged. But the positive impact he had on my life was permanent.

After that, in addition to studying the new techniques I had learned, I continued to study note reading (sometimes generically referred to as "classical" technique whether it's applied to classical or other types of music). Written notes are extremely useful and I certainly didn't want to be musically illiterate. I also wanted to be able to communicate with other musicians. But I began to play most of my music with lead sheets, which only contain the melody and chord symbols for a piece of music. It's up to me as the musician to decide exactly how I want to play the left hand part. Knowing that a particular measure should be harmonized with a G chord, for example, tells me that any G, B or D note on the piano has the potential to sound good with the melody. Experience and practice helped me understand which combinations sounded best, and I slowly developed the ability to decide in the moment exactly how to execute a particular harmony rather than having to know in advance the exact keys to press. This meant that, while my performance of a particular song was often quite similar to previous performances of that song, I had the freedom to innovate and create new sounds as my abilities and tastes allowed instead of being forced to play a piece exactly the same way every single time I played it. For some, this might sound like a disadvantage. For me, it's a clear advantage and helped stave off the boredom I might have experienced with the piano if my creative energies couldn't have been put to use. I also saved a lot of money music, because all I really needed was a basic outline and I could figure out the rest. Using lead sheets to play music was a little bit like being presented with a coloring book page. It contained a bare outline and I could choose exactly how to turn it into a beautiful work of art (and yes, sometimes I colored outside the lines!) While standard notation indicates the exact notes that should be played, lead sheets indicate a multiplicity of potential notes and leaves it to the musician to decide which ones sound best. Using this new style of playing also made a trip to the music store, which had once been overwhelming because of the amount of music I couldn't play, a joyful experience.

There are certain types of music (classical music in particular, as well as some choral and new age music) for which chords and lead sheets might not be ideal, and which might not allow an artist to create a satisfying sound that is reminiscent of the original without significant practice and/or harmony part memorization. Composers and arrangers of such music might be interested in studying counterpoint, but for pop, jazz, Christmas, religious and folk music using chords for harmonization can be an effective and enjoyable approach. It can allow new musicians to play music they couldn't play before and sound a lot better than they would if they used simplified standard notation, and it can allow professionals the creative freedom to disconnect from the notes and focus on expression.

I've noticed in my music teaching experience that very few competent note readers are interested in learning to play with chords, as this would require them to go back to the basics and learn completely foreign techniques. This effort doesn't seem necessary or worthwhile when simply continuing to rely on already acquired note reading skills is so effortless. However, there are three reasons I encourage everyone who has attained note reading competence to learn to play with lead sheets. The first is that it will significantly increase their knowledge of music theory and help them understand how the music they are playing was made. The second is that it will allow them to create and/or arrange their own repertoire. The third is that it can be a great fallback when faced with an incredibly daunting piece of music. Two of my aunts have been playing piano their whole lives, and one of them is also an exceptional organist. Every year we gather around the piano as a family to sing Christmas carols. There is a particular arrangement of "White Christmas" that my grandpa loves to hear, but the harmony part is so complex that they simply can't play it in spite of their years of experience. However, because it has chord symbols I am able to get through it with little effort.

As an added bonus, lead sheets take up significantly less space in music books than full arrangements, which explains how publishers of "fake books" are sometimes able to fit 1200 songs into a single volume.

I once thought that there was only one way to play piano, but I have since discovered that "right" is a relative term. Now I see the value in having multiple tools in my toolbox and in being able to use the right one for the right job. My advice to someone who wants to learn to play piano and isn't sure which notation system to focus on is to learn them both, emphasizing one or the other more heavily over time as musical preferences, performing situation and developing abilities allow.