The $100 Music Lesson
$100 Dollar Lesson RFT Music Stories
4
The $100 Music Lesson
This story, about the eager young music student and the grand old music professor, is one of my kids' favorites, because when I tell it, I do a very funny German accent for the music teacher. It makes a very important point about the power of the individual to create internally-generated energy. The story is also true—it was told to me by the eager young music student himself.
There once was a young boy, 15 or so, whose passion was the piano. He practiced all day and many hours into the night, plowing through all the great literature, all the Beethoven sonatas, the entire Well-Tempered Clavier, all the Chopin Etudes, Waltzes, Mazurkas, all the Mozart concerti. He was considered a prodigy in his small town, where he played the organ in church for the 3 bean salad ladies; he even had a small class of grade school music students. But he was not deceive by his local fame— he knew that in the big city there were other kids, 15 or so, who could play blazing circles around him. He knew they could do it, but he did not know how, and he craved this knowledge more than life itself.
He had heard about a legendary old German music professor, retired from the Academy now, but still teaching privately in his home on the outskirts of the big city, some 80 miles away. This teacher charged $100 for an hour-long music lesson. Now, this was a long time ago, and a hundred dollars was worth a lot more back then. Nowadays, of course, the most famous teachers in New York can make $350 to $500 for a music lesson, but back then, a hundred dollars was a pretty top fee. You could bet that if a teacher charged that kind of money he must be pretty darned good.
Well, the boy became obsessed with the idea of taking a lesson from this great old master. The problem was the hundred dollars. That was a lot of money. Undaunted by the immensity of this task, he got an extra summer job at MacDonald's, he washed windows, he cut lawns, he took more students, and he didn't spend a dime. When summer had turned to fall, and another suffocating year of high school loomed in the young boy's future, he counted his quarters—he had just enough to make the trip. He got his mother to make the appointment for him on the phone, and that Saturday
This story, about the eager young music student and the grand old music professor, is one of my kids' favorites, because when I tell it, I do a very funny German accent for the music teacher. It makes a very important point about the power of the individual to create internally-generated energy. The story is also true—it was told to me by the eager young music student himself.
There once was a young boy, 15 or so, whose passion was the piano. He practiced all day and many hours into the night, plowing through all the great literature, all the Beethoven sonatas, the entire Well-Tempered Clavier, all the Chopin Etudes, Waltzes, Mazurkas, all the Mozart concerti. He was considered a prodigy in his small town, where he played the organ in church for the 3 bean salad ladies; he even had a small class of grade school music students. But he was not deceive by his local fame— he knew that in the big city there were other kids, 15 or so, who could play blazing circles around him. He knew they could do it, but he did not know how, and he craved this knowledge more than life itself.
He had heard about a legendary old German music professor, retired from the Academy now, but still teaching privately in his home on the outskirts of the big city, some 80 miles away. This teacher charged $100 for an hour-long music lesson. Now, this was a long time ago, and a hundred dollars was worth a lot more back then. Nowadays, of course, the most famous teachers in New York can make $350 to $500 for a music lesson, but back then, a hundred dollars was a pretty top fee. You could bet that if a teacher charged that kind of money he must be pretty darned good.
Well, the boy became obsessed with the idea of taking a lesson from this great old master. The problem was the hundred dollars. That was a lot of money. Undaunted by the immensity of this task, he got an extra summer job at MacDonald's, he washed windows, he cut lawns, he took more students, and he didn't spend a dime. When summer had turned to fall, and another suffocating year of high school loomed in the young boy's future, he counted his quarters—he had just enough to make the trip. He got his mother to make the appointment for him on the phone, and that Saturday
$100 Dollar Lesson RFT Music Stories
5
morning he set off on the bus clutching his music satchel to his breast, the
tips of his fingers still sore from last night's emergency practice session.
He made his way through the security entrance of a swank apartment building, and knocked on the door at 4:00 precisely. The grand, gray-haired old man welcomed him in with an expansive smile, admiring the crisp $100 bill the young man thrust into his hand.
The Professor said, "Seet dowhoon myee buoy, rreelaks, play me zomtink!"
So the boy launched into his hottest Chopin, slaving away through the piece to its conclusion. He turned breathless to the professor, expectantly awaiting a response. The professor lost in a reverie of towering musical complexity, I'm sure, gradually found himself before the boy again, and thus began to speak:
"Ah . . . Zo . . .Hmm . . .Mmmm . . .Hah . . .Uh . . .Wwwwwelll . . . Play me zomtink else."
So the boy played through the first movement of the Pathatique Sonata. Again, the professor awoke from the deep abyss of his thoughts to say, "Ah . . . Zo . . .Yah . . . You zee . . .Ah . . . Hmm . . .Mmmm . . .Hah . . Uh . . .Wwwwwelll . . . Play me zomtink else."
So the boy played him something else. And then again something else. And something else, and something else, and something else, and something else, and all the professor ever said was, "Play me zomtink else."
At last, with one minute remaining of these precious 60 minutes the boy had slaved to pay for, he blurted out, " Please Professor, I've been here for whole hour and the only thing you've said to me is, 'Play something else!" Please, our time is almost up, teach me, help me, give me something I can do to make myself a good pianist!"
The grand old man took one more moment to consider, and then look at the young boys straight in the eye and said, "Joo knowow . . . Joo shoooud PLAY BETTER!"
The moral of this story is this: even though it may be possible to address the details of a musical problem with a totally rational mind, taking apart the problem, dividing it into all it component modules, to a microscopic level—sometimes all you need to make yourself play better, is to tell yourself to play better. We must acknowledge the fact that, most of
He made his way through the security entrance of a swank apartment building, and knocked on the door at 4:00 precisely. The grand, gray-haired old man welcomed him in with an expansive smile, admiring the crisp $100 bill the young man thrust into his hand.
The Professor said, "Seet dowhoon myee buoy, rreelaks, play me zomtink!"
So the boy launched into his hottest Chopin, slaving away through the piece to its conclusion. He turned breathless to the professor, expectantly awaiting a response. The professor lost in a reverie of towering musical complexity, I'm sure, gradually found himself before the boy again, and thus began to speak:
"Ah . . . Zo . . .Hmm . . .Mmmm . . .Hah . . .Uh . . .Wwwwwelll . . . Play me zomtink else."
So the boy played through the first movement of the Pathatique Sonata. Again, the professor awoke from the deep abyss of his thoughts to say, "Ah . . . Zo . . .Yah . . . You zee . . .Ah . . . Hmm . . .Mmmm . . .Hah . . Uh . . .Wwwwwelll . . . Play me zomtink else."
So the boy played him something else. And then again something else. And something else, and something else, and something else, and something else, and all the professor ever said was, "Play me zomtink else."
At last, with one minute remaining of these precious 60 minutes the boy had slaved to pay for, he blurted out, " Please Professor, I've been here for whole hour and the only thing you've said to me is, 'Play something else!" Please, our time is almost up, teach me, help me, give me something I can do to make myself a good pianist!"
The grand old man took one more moment to consider, and then look at the young boys straight in the eye and said, "Joo knowow . . . Joo shoooud PLAY BETTER!"
The moral of this story is this: even though it may be possible to address the details of a musical problem with a totally rational mind, taking apart the problem, dividing it into all it component modules, to a microscopic level—sometimes all you need to make yourself play better, is to tell yourself to play better. We must acknowledge the fact that, most of
$100 Dollar Lesson RFT Music Stories
6
the time, we operate at a less-than-peak energy level. Most of the everyday
tasks of life do not require in-depth attention to accomplish them, so most
of us spend most of our time in kickback mode. This is OK, but it is too
easy to assume that this mind state is the only available one.
I can go through a violin piece with a student, and say, "This note must be higher, this note is lower, these two notes are the same, this note is higher, higher!" But sometimes the same quality effect is achieved by saying, "Hey! Play in tune!"
The right brain and the left brain, together, are capable of holding very finely tuned spatial relationships in memory, but the brain doesn't give up this information to the body, unless your will really asks for it. Remembering to push ourselves harder is a habit that you we cultivate, such that using our personal will power to sustain technical innovation, becomes a technique in itself. The good news is that if you use your will power to strengthen your will power, you will have will power for the rest of your life, to apply to any problem you ever have to face in life, for the rest of your life.
I can go through a violin piece with a student, and say, "This note must be higher, this note is lower, these two notes are the same, this note is higher, higher!" But sometimes the same quality effect is achieved by saying, "Hey! Play in tune!"
The right brain and the left brain, together, are capable of holding very finely tuned spatial relationships in memory, but the brain doesn't give up this information to the body, unless your will really asks for it. Remembering to push ourselves harder is a habit that you we cultivate, such that using our personal will power to sustain technical innovation, becomes a technique in itself. The good news is that if you use your will power to strengthen your will power, you will have will power for the rest of your life, to apply to any problem you ever have to face in life, for the rest of your life.
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