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.