Major 7ths, Keeping Me Sane

I am about three weeks into my month-long deep-dive into major seventh chords. I have learned so much, and I was thinking I was ready to move on to dominant sevenths ... but then I discovered all of these exercises on PWJ that I could (sort of) play through but that didn't feel natural or automatic. So, I've decided to finish out the month by really concentrating on becoming better at these exercises.

They include block and broken chords from the root position, going both ways around the circle of fifths and moving up and down chromatically; broken chords up and down the keyboard; block and broken-chord inversions; and movement from the I to the IV. I've mostly practiced the broken inversions and the chromatic movement (see video for an example), so I want to become better at moving around the circle of fifths. I can do those exercises slowly (with the metronome at 40 or 44), but the goal is to get them up to 60/120.

As I was working on making the short video above this morning, I thought to myself, "Why am I doing this?" Why am I spending so much time becoming intimately familiar with major sevenths? Why am I doing this "Misty" challenge? Why did I spend 30 minutes last night memorizing the "Mad Chase" section of the Chopin? What's the point of it all?

Friends, I am not sure what the point of it all is. All I know is that I love music, and if I didn't have piano in my life right now, I would probably be suicidal. Music is what is pulling me through.

So I work on major seventh chords and look forward to starting dominant sevenths in another week or so. I focus on small things and rejoice in meeting piano goals, like memorizing the "Misty" LH or playing the "D" section of "Maple Leaf Rag" perfectly with the metronome at 40. I feel like that is all I can manage right now, and so I'm managing it. As it has in the past, piano is keeping me sane.

For my next video, I'm hoping to record the C and/or D sections of "Maple Leaf Rag." It's nowhere near the desired tempo, but I'm just tickled that I can play them at all! More later ...

Comments

Rethinking Bare Necessities

Today's breakthrough moment (there are actually two of them) focuses on "Bare Necessities." As you'll remember, I discovered Jonny May's arrangement back in early March and immediately decided to learn it. I printed out the music, started the course, and proceeded to learn the stride section, posting a few videos of my progress. Ha. I bet those videos make it look like I was making progress. I guess I was ... but not really. And I realized something this weekend that I hadn't before: Because I was thinking of "Bare Necessities" as a "fun" piece, I wasn't practicing it seriously or diligently. I wasn't treating it as something I wanted to master. This mindset might work with an easier piece, but this arrangement isn't easy. The result: despite a little progress at the outset, I wasn't moving forward. I was stalled. Breakthrough #1 The first breakthrough was realizing that if I truly want to learn this piece and play it well,

Maple Leaf Rag Breakthrough

Oh, Maple Leaf. Where to begin? At the Beginning I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I learned the A and B sections of Maple Leaf Rag back in the 1990s. I can’t tell you if it was early, mid- or late 90s, but it was during those 10 years after I’d graduated college, when I was playing a good bit of piano but not taking regular lessons from anyone. I don’t remember teaching it to myself at all. I just know that, at some point, the first half of Maple Leaf Rag was part of my two- or three-song repertoire of pieces I’d be able to play by memory over the next 25 years. It was always sloppy and I knew it, but people loved it, and so I played it if there was ever a piano around. Back in January, I decided to properly re-learn those two sections, and to finally learn the C and D sections of this wonderful piece. I worked on these over the next month or two, learning (and-relearning) the notes pretty quickly ... but it took time to memorize, and also to get everything to tempo surpassing a

The Rusty Lock and Key

I'm in a room. There's a door in front of me. On the other side of that door is a whole world of adventure and imagination and joy and delight, but for the moment, I'm locked in this gray little room. The door itself has a lock that is all rusted. I've tried to open it in the past, but I've never gotten very far. Sometimes I try to scrape the rust off the lock. I also have a rusty old key that I occasionally try to polish. Each time, after I've made a little progress, I'll put it into the keyhole in hopes of opening the door. It turns a half a millimeter or so, but the brief excitement at my progress dies quickly when I realize, once again, it's not going to open the lock. I set the old key aside, and from there I can forget about the door, the lock, and the world outside, for months—years, even. But then something happens—I hear birdsong, or I catch a glimpse of color—and I pick up the key and start picking away at the stubborn rust. That dark little ro

Picking Up the Pieces

Search This Blog