Meditation on Pianos; Joyfully embracing all the instruments in my life's journey

For me, there is nothing that feels quite like playing a high-end piano. The gradation of color opportunities, the expanded palette of dynamics and articulations, the response time of each key, and the overall sound production on a top-tear concert grand make advanced classical repertoire so satisfying to play.

Piano majors enrolled in both music colleges I attended were given exclusive access to the practice rooms with high-end pianos. I had the luxury of spending hours playing Steinways, Bosendorfers, and Bechsteins, and was surprised that each of these instrument, even instruments of the same make and model, had its own, unique voice. A piano’s voice is not just the sum of its parts, but more. It is the unique deepness, brightness, ease, or sharpness that each piano acquires through its basic construction and materials used, plus its technician’s handiwork (or lack of), and sometimes, by the touch of the pianists who have played on it before.  

I was able to use the concert hall at my graduate school for my own student’s recital. I had a handful of beginning students who had no idea how special the opportunity was. I remember sitting in the hall at the performance, watching proudly as my little beginners sat down at the bench of the 9-foot Bechstein, and played their songs.  Hot Cross Buns, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, and Old MacDonald Had a Farm have never sounded so good! But after the show, I was surprised that none of them commented on the beautiful tone of that big piano; they were only aware of the correct notes or wrong notes they played.

And then, I graduated.

And while I still wanted to play a piano, my budget and living space had no room for a high-end piano. Or any sort of new piano.

So I rented a 100-year-old upright used piano from the local piano movers, and promptly fell in love with a very different instrument; it was muddy and loud, and some of the strings buzzed. But it had a voice, too, its unique voice. It felt almost human to me in many ways, this piano that had been around much longer than I, residing in who-knows how many homes, and played on by who-knows how many pianists. Best of all, I could afford rent, groceries and cat food, and still play on a piano in those early years.

Years later, I had two small children of my own. As they started to show curiosity about music, I encouraged them to bang away on our home instrument. At that time, our home piano was a well-played entry-level piano, as all of my nicer pianos were sent to my music school. I didn’t stress or worry about my own kids climbing up on the bench and exploring the piano whenever they wanted; mostly to create sounds, but occasionally to use as a stage for stuffed animal skits, or toy soldier battles.

Would my kids have developed an enjoyment of music that they carry with them now if we’d had a nicer piano at home in those early days? Perhaps. But would their love of music be as natural, or as intrinsic, or as creative, if I had a high-end piano I was constantly worried about them scuffing or damaging in the home at that time? Probably not.  

It saddens me when I hear of individuals not wanting to play the piano until they have the space and budget for a top-of-the-line instrument. They’ve heard vague warnings that a pianist’s technique will be ruined if the instrument is not top-notch. What a hard stop to music-making this tenant can be for many! How many can afford a brand new instrument costing thousands, or tens of thousands, of dollars? How many homes have the space for it? And how many families want that in the middle of their living room with small children running around, playing on it, snacks or toys nearby? 

I have had the luxury of watching many pianists progress over many years. What I do see is a cycle of wonder that is centered around their instrument. In the beginning, the wonder is strictly about the joy of making music; very simple music, but music nonetheless. As skills improve and the complexity of the music increases, students eventually reach a point where their entry-level instrument is not enough, and they acquire a better instrument. The new instrument always starts a new cycle of wonder, as the student discovers the new capabilities, and the new voice, of their new instrument. The students’ musical world is expanded infinitely, they spend more time playing, and progress shoots off at a much higher rate than before.

And now, I’d like to answer the question I get at least once a week: What kind of piano should I have?

I say; play the instrument you’ve got. If you don’t have an instrument, get yourself something that will work for you, your budget, your home, and your family, now. If you’ve got the space, and the money, and the desire, to upgrade, great. But don’t wait to start playing until you have a high-end instrument. Play the instrument you’ve got today. Discover its unique beauty, joy, and quirks. Make music on it despite, or because of this.  

Play your piano, the one you’ve got, and enjoy it. You won’t regret it.