Taken from the old website. Original post date: June 12, 2005

One of the most common questions a pianist can ever be asked is: “How much do you practice?”
Years ago, I decided to permanently remove the word ‘practice’ from my vocabulary. Somehow that word has always conjured up images of an oxygen-deprived cubicle consisting of a student repeating passages over and over again until they resound in complete hysteria.

I’ll never forget a life-changing lesson I once experienced with one of my past piano professors. I remember I was asked to bring in the 2nd movement of Mozart’s sonata KV332. Normally I always tried my best to be the perfect student – you know, the well-dressed, always smiling, always prepared, a neatly organized lad who made sure that each piece was perfectly prepared before each lesson. But this time, I decided to not practice at all before the lesson. I decided to do this roughly one week before the upcoming lesson. In other words, there was to be no warm-up, no thinking about the piece, no listening to recordings, and certainly no piano in my site. Instead of my usual preparation routine, I decided to trust everything my teacher had taught me up to that point, and apply it “on the spot” during that lesson.
Naturally, the moment before starting the piece was frightening. I was terrified of performing and ready to tell the world how ‘unprepared’ I was today. But instead I decided to trust everything I had learned up to that point in piano technique, in what being a musician means to me, in what I believe Mozart tried to express when he wrote the sonatas, in what I’m trying to express as a human being sitting in front of a verisimilitude of wooden hammers. This was to become the most beautiful Mozart I had ever performed in my life. From the very first note, I had entered a seemingly hypnotic state which rapidly transcended from mortification to exaltation. My teacher had nothing to say.
Every since that memorable lesson I decided to replace the word ‘practice’ with ‘discovery’. Each time I perform in public I discover something new in each piece which I often decide to embrace for future performances. A discovery can happen at anytime. For example when I drive into the desert, I might suddenly become engaged in a piece I have not thought about in months, and discover a brand new tempo which immediately makes the piece sound better and intensifies my connection with it.
The question is can a pianist really rely on faith and chance encounters when he is engaged in hundreds of concerts including the one next week where thousands will come to hear him? In my attempt to answer this I am led to restate what I believe to be the greatest injury to any musician, particularly young musicians. And that is to not have the opportunity to truly enjoy the process of discovery and become thoroughly engaged in its slow-blooming glory.

In essence, the word ‘discovery’ is almost synonymous to ‘UNpracticing’ or ‘UNlearning’. When I experienced my breakthrough lesson I had to put aside my ego and past beliefs about how to play piano – even if that meant admitting that I was completely wrong about many things – things I had believed to be correct for many years! I found that this turned out to be much more difficult than mindlessly practicing in a locked practice room for 72 hours straight.

Perhaps there should be an anonymous 12-step plan program for other ‘pianoholics’ who are addicted to their instrument! “My name is Daniel, I’ve been powerless over the piano for over 20 years now, this is my first meeting…”