CAUT

Greetings Lists,

WARNING: VERY LONG POST!!

A client of several years has a high quality although somewhat aged grand piano. Not too long ago, it was restrung and had new hammers, shanks and flanges installed. 

When I first encountered this instrument, pre-pandemic, I let him know that while the action had had some critical parts replaced, there was definitely room for improvement in terms of its mechanical function. He thanked me for the information but expressed no interest in pursuing the matter further at that time. 

We technicians all have our own styles of handling situations like this. Mine is to simply state what can be done to improve the piano. The rest, as far as I am concerned, is up to the client. I never hard-sell what they may perceive to be "extra work," but feel I would be remiss if I did not share my professional observations with them.

That self-same piano was recently moved to a performance venue for a piano recital. The pianist in question had played this piano on previous visits to my client's home and in fact practiced on it the morning of the concert, before it was moved. 

During her rehearsal in the concert venue, she was under the impression that the action had somehow become harder to play since earlier that day, before the move, particularly in the lower half of the scale. I could not find anything that looked like it had been altered by the move--or was otherwise different from what I remembered--and could only offer the speculation that the different acoustical environment made the action seem different. (After all, at the end of the day, tone and touch are inextricably linked, each affecting pianists' perception of the other.)

Reflecting back on the experience, I wondered about what made the action seem heavier. My best guess is that being in a much larger space was one aspect. In addition, there is a fair chance that once on a stage, where this superb young artist is quite at home, the very high standards she routinely applies to the instruments on which she is accustomed to performing kicked in. No more, "Just dealing with it," so as not to offend a piano owner in their home (particularly while she was a guest there!).

I had met her before but had never worked with her until that moment. My remark about the different acoustic contributing to the difference between what she heard and felt that morning compared to that afternoon was met with skepticism.

She wondered what could have changed between the morning and the afternoon, possibly as result of the move. I thought about that for a moment, and then decided to leave that matter for Detective Columbo to contemplate--a luxury that I could ill afford-- while I concentrated on making things better before the concert. My mission was to figure out how to make the piano more to her liking, and to accomplish it in the very limited time available. I assured her that I would do everything humanly possible (at least, by this human) in the precious short time we had. (She asked if I would be present for the concert and was visibly reassured when I told her that I would be.)

Sparing you the gory details, as she practiced, I noticed that her fingers and forearms were not free. I began running in my mind what things could be addressed right then and there that might make her life easier and the piano a more transparent vehicle of her music making. When the time came, I leapt into action, tools in hand (and pun intended!). Told the stage manager that it was critical that she try the piano again before the performance began that evening. After all, if that did not happen, this episode would be in violation of The Gospel According to Norman As Preached to His Disciple Rick, commandment number 1 "Do not make any major changes to the piano without the artist agreeing to try it before the concert."

Yes, it occurred to me that if, for any reason, she did not like what I had done to the action, there would in fact not be enough time for me to do much if anything about it. I crossed my fingers, hoping for the best, and preparing for the worst (Standard Operating Procedure). She sat down at the piano, played some of the most demanding passages from her program for that evening, and let me know the good news: the piano was far more playable now than it had been just a few hours earlier.

Now, the concert producer (who was also the piano owner) had not authorized any further work, and was not available for consultation as the situation unfolded. I accepted the risk of deciding to go ahead with it, hoping that the work would be to the artist's satisfaction, and that the producer would pay for it, even though he had not pre-approved it. 

By the time the dust had settled, the artist was happy, and the producer paid my bill. When I explained why it was about twice as large as we had originally anticipated, he exclaimed that after the piano returned to his home, he could "actually play it now." (This was the first I ever heard that he was previously experiencing difficulties!) Moreover, he urged me that if there were any more improvements we could make to its playability (and of course, there were), we should schedule that work at my earliest convenience.

The performance that evening was truly breathtaking. I could see from my seat in the front row that her hands and arms were relaxed, that she was now free to do things on that instrument that she couldn't do just a few hours earlier, and that her playing had become more about expression than mechanics.

So, one of the many takeaways from this story is:

Sometimes, it can take a crisis to get things done!

Best, 

Alan

Greetings Lists,

WARNING: VERY LONG POST!!

A client of several years has a high quality although somewhat aged grand piano. Not too long ago, it was restrung and had new hammers, shanks and flanges installed. 

When I first encountered this instrument, pre-pandemic, I let him know that while the action had had some critical parts replaced, there was definitely room for improvement in terms of its mechanical function. He thanked me for the information but expressed no interest in pursuing the matter further at that time. 

We technicians all have our own styles of handling situations like this. Mine is to simply state what can be done to improve the piano. The rest, as far as I am concerned, is up to the client. I never hard-sell what they may perceive to be "extra work," but feel I would be remiss if I did not share my professional observations with them.

That self-same piano was recently moved to a performance venue for a piano recital. The pianist in question had played this piano on previous visits to my client's home and in fact practiced on it the morning of the concert, before it was moved. 

During her rehearsal in the concert venue, she was under the impression that the action had somehow become harder to play since earlier that day, before the move, particularly in the lower half of the scale. I could not find anything that looked like it had been altered by the move--or was otherwise different from what I remembered--and could only offer the speculation that the different acoustical environment made the action seem different. (After all, at the end of the day, tone and touch are inextricably linked, each affecting pianists' perception of the other.)

Reflecting back on the experience, I wondered about what made the action seem heavier. My best guess is that being in a much larger space was one aspect. In addition, there is a fair chance that once on a stage, where this superb young artist is quite at home, the very high standards she routinely applies to the instruments on which she is accustomed to performing kicked in. No more, "Just dealing with it," so as not to offend a piano owner in their home (particularly while she was a guest there!).

I had met her before but had never worked with her until that moment. My remark about the different acoustic contributing to the difference between what she heard and felt that morning compared to that afternoon was met with skepticism.

She wondered what could have changed between the morning and the afternoon, possibly as result of the move. I thought about that for a moment, and then decided to leave that matter for Detective Columbo to contemplate--a luxury that I could ill afford-- while I concentrated on making things better before the concert. My mission was to figure out how to make the piano more to her liking, and to accomplish it in the very limited time available. I assured her that I would do everything humanly possible (at least, by this human) in the precious short time we had. (She asked if I would be present for the concert and was visibly reassured when I told her that I would be.)

Sparing you the gory details, as she practiced, I noticed that her fingers and forearms were not free. I began running in my mind what things could be addressed right then and there that might make her life easier and the piano a more transparent vehicle of her music making. When the time came, I leapt into action, tools in hand (and pun intended!). Told the stage manager that it was critical that she try the piano again before the performance began that evening. After all, if that did not happen, this episode would be in violation of The Gospel According to Norman As Preached to His Disciple Rick, commandment number 1 "Do not make any major changes to the piano without the artist agreeing to try it before the concert."

Yes, it occurred to me that if, for any reason, she did not like what I had done to the action, there would in fact not be enough time for me to do much if anything about it. I crossed my fingers, hoping for the best, and preparing for the worst (Standard Operating Procedure). She sat down at the piano, played some of the most demanding passages from her program for that evening, and let me know the good news: the piano was far more playable now than it had been just a few hours earlier.

Now, the concert producer (who was also the piano owner) had not authorized any further work, and was not available for consultation as the situation unfolded. I accepted the risk of deciding to go ahead with it, hoping that the work would be to the artist's satisfaction, and that the producer would pay for it, even though he had not pre-approved it. 

By the time the dust had settled, the artist was happy, and the producer paid my bill. When I explained why it was about twice as large as we had originally anticipated, he exclaimed that after the piano returned to his home, he could "actually play it now." (This was the first I ever heard that he was previously experiencing difficulties!) Moreover, he urged me that if there were any more improvements we could make to its playability (and of course, there were), we should schedule that work at my earliest convenience.

The performance that evening was truly breathtaking. I could see from my seat in the front row that her hands and arms were relaxed, that she was now free to do things on that instrument that she couldn't do just a few hours earlier, and that her playing had become more about expression than mechanics.

So, one of the many takeaways from this story is:

Sometimes, it can take a crisis to get things done!

Best, 

Alan

Greetings Lists,

WARNING: VERY LONG POST!!

A client of several years has a high quality although somewhat aged grand piano. Not too long ago, it was restrung and had new hammers, shanks and flanges installed.

When I first encountered this instrument, pre-pandemic, I let him know that while the action had had some critical parts replaced, there was definitely room for improvement in terms of its mechanical function. He thanked me for the information but expressed no interest in pursuing the matter further at that time.

We technicians all have our own styles of handling situations like this. Mine is to simply state what can be done to improve the piano. The rest, as far as I am concerned, is up to the client. I never hard-sell what they may perceive to be "extra work," but feel I would be remiss if I did not share my professional observations with them.

That self-same piano was recently moved to a performance venue for a piano recital. The pianist in question had played this piano on previous visits to my client's home and in fact practiced on it the morning of the concert, before it was moved.

During her rehearsal in the concert venue, she was under the impression that the action had somehow become harder to play since earlier that day, before the move, particularly in the lower half of the scale. I could not find anything that looked like it had been altered by the move--or was otherwise different from what I remembered--and could only offer the speculation that the different acoustical environment made the action seem different. (After all, at the end of the day, tone and touch are inextricably linked, each affecting pianists' perception of the other.)

Reflecting back on the experience, I wondered about what made the action seem heavier. My best guess is that being in a much larger space was one aspect. In addition, there is a fair chance that once on a stage, where this superb young artist is quite at home, the very high standards she routinely applies to the instruments on which she is accustomed to performing kicked in. No more, "Just dealing with it," so as not to offend a piano owner in their home (particularly while she was a guest there!).

I had met her before but had never worked with her until that moment. My remark about the different acoustic contributing to the difference between what she heard and felt that morning compared to that afternoon was met with skepticism.

She wondered what could have changed between the morning and the afternoon, possibly as result of the move. I thought about that for a moment, and then decided to leave that matter for Detective Columbo to contemplate--a luxury that I could ill afford-- while I concentrated on making things better before the concert. My mission was to figure out how to make the piano more to her liking, and to accomplish it in the very limited time available. I assured her that I would do everything humanly possible (at least, by this human) in the precious short time we had. (She asked if I would be present for the concert and was visibly reassured when I told her that I would be.)

Sparing you the gory details, as she practiced, I noticed that her fingers and forearms were not free. I began running in my mind what things could be addressed right then and there that might make her life easier and the piano a more transparent vehicle of her music making. When the time came, I leapt into action, tools in hand (and pun intended!). Told the stage manager that it was critical that she try the piano again before the performance began that evening. After all, if that did not happen, this episode would be in violation of The Gospel According to Norman As Preached to His Disciple Rick, commandment number 1 "Do not make any major changes to the piano without the artist agreeing to try it before the concert."

Yes, it occurred to me that if, for any reason, she did not like what I had done to the action, there would in fact not be enough time for me to do much if anything about it. I crossed my fingers, hoping for the best, and preparing for the worst (Standard Operating Procedure). She sat down at the piano, played some of the most demanding passages from her program for that evening, and let me know the good news: the piano was far more playable now than it had been just a few hours earlier.

Now, the concert producer (who was also the piano owner) had not authorized any further work, and was not available for consultation as the situation unfolded. I accepted the risk of deciding to go ahead with it, hoping that the work would be to the artist's satisfaction, and that the producer would pay for it, even though he had not pre-approved it.

By the time the dust had settled, the artist was happy, and the producer paid my bill. When I explained why it was about twice as large as we had originally anticipated, he exclaimed that after the piano returned to his home, he could "actually play it now." (This was the first I ever heard that he was previously experiencing difficulties!) Moreover, he urged me that if there were any more improvements we could make to its playability (and of course, there were), we should schedule that work at my earliest convenience.

The performance that evening was truly breathtaking. I could see from my seat in the front row that her hands and arms were relaxed, that she was now free to do things on that instrument that she couldn't do just a few hours earlier, and that her playing had become more about expression than mechanics.

So, one of the many takeaways from this story is:

Sometimes, it can take a crisis to get things done!

Best,

Alan

Greetings Lists,

WARNING: VERY LONG POST!!

A client of several years has a high quality although somewhat aged grand piano. Not too long ago, it was restrung and had new hammers, shanks and flanges installed.

When I first encountered this instrument, pre-pandemic, I let him know that while the action had had some critical parts replaced, there was definitely room for improvement in terms of its mechanical function. He thanked me for the information but expressed no interest in pursuing the matter further at that time.

We technicians all have our own styles of handling situations like this. Mine is to simply state what can be done to improve the piano. The rest, as far as I am concerned, is up to the client. I never hard-sell what they may perceive to be "extra work," but feel I would be remiss if I did not share my professional observations with them.

That self-same piano was recently moved to a performance venue for a piano recital. The pianist in question had played this piano on previous visits to my client's home and in fact practiced on it the morning of the concert, before it was moved.

During her rehearsal in the concert venue, she was under the impression that the action had somehow become harder to play since earlier that day, before the move, particularly in the lower half of the scale. I could not find anything that looked like it had been altered by the move--or was otherwise different from what I remembered--and could only offer the speculation that the different acoustical environment made the action seem different. (After all, at the end of the day, tone and touch are inextricably linked, each affecting pianists' perception of the other.)

Reflecting back on the experience, I wondered about what made the action seem heavier. My best guess is that being in a much larger space was one aspect. In addition, there is a fair chance that once on a stage, where this superb young artist is quite at home, the very high standards she routinely applies to the instruments on which she is accustomed to performing kicked in. No more, "Just dealing with it," so as not to offend a piano owner in their home (particularly while she was a guest there!).

I had met her before but had never worked with her until that moment. My remark about the different acoustic contributing to the difference between what she heard and felt that morning compared to that afternoon was met with skepticism.

She wondered what could have changed between the morning and the afternoon, possibly as result of the move. I thought about that for a moment, and then decided to leave that matter for Detective Columbo to contemplate--a luxury that I could ill afford-- while I concentrated on making things better before the concert. My mission was to figure out how to make the piano more to her liking, and to accomplish it in the very limited time available. I assured her that I would do everything humanly possible (at least, by this human) in the precious short time we had. (She asked if I would be present for the concert and was visibly reassured when I told her that I would be.)

Sparing you the gory details, as she practiced, I noticed that her fingers and forearms were not free. I began running in my mind what things could be addressed right then and there that might make her life easier and the piano a more transparent vehicle of her music making. When the time came, I leapt into action, tools in hand (and pun intended!). Told the stage manager that it was critical that she try the piano again before the performance began that evening. After all, if that did not happen, this episode would be in violation of The Gospel According to Norman As Preached to His Disciple Rick, commandment number 1 "Do not make any major changes to the piano without the artist agreeing to try it before the concert."

Yes, it occurred to me that if, for any reason, she did not like what I had done to the action, there would in fact not be enough time for me to do much if anything about it. I crossed my fingers, hoping for the best, and preparing for the worst (Standard Operating Procedure). She sat down at the piano, played some of the most demanding passages from her program for that evening, and let me know the good news: the piano was far more playable now than it had been just a few hours earlier.

Now, the concert producer (who was also the piano owner) had not authorized any further work, and was not available for consultation as the situation unfolded. I accepted the risk of deciding to go ahead with it, hoping that the work would be to the artist's satisfaction, and that the producer would pay for it, even though he had not pre-approved it.

By the time the dust had settled, the artist was happy, and the producer paid my bill. When I explained why it was about twice as large as we had originally anticipated, he exclaimed that after the piano returned to his home, he could "actually play it now." (This was the first I ever heard that he was previously experiencing difficulties!) Moreover, he urged me that if there were any more improvements we could make to its playability (and of course, there were), we should schedule that work at my earliest convenience.

The performance that evening was truly breathtaking. I could see from my seat in the front row that her hands and arms were relaxed, that she was now free to do things on that instrument that she couldn't do just a few hours earlier, and that her playing had become more about expression than mechanics.

So, one of the many takeaways from this story is:

Sometimes, it can take a crisis to get things done!

Best,

Alan

Greetings Lists,

WARNING: VERY LONG POST!!

A client of several years has a high quality although somewhat aged grand piano. Not too long ago, it was restrung and had new hammers, shanks and flanges installed.

When I first encountered this instrument, pre-pandemic, I let him know that while the action had had some critical parts replaced, there was definitely room for improvement in terms of its mechanical function. He thanked me for the information but expressed no interest in pursuing the matter further at that time.

We technicians all have our own styles of handling situations like this. Mine is to simply state what can be done to improve the piano. The rest, as far as I am concerned, is up to the client. I never hard-sell what they may perceive to be "extra work," but feel I would be remiss if I did not share my professional observations with them.

That self-same piano was recently moved to a performance venue for a piano recital. The pianist in question had played this piano on previous visits to my client's home and in fact practiced on it the morning of the concert, before it was moved.

During her rehearsal in the concert venue, she was under the impression that the action had somehow become harder to play since earlier that day, before the move, particularly in the lower half of the scale. I could not find anything that looked like it had been altered by the move--or was otherwise different from what I remembered--and could only offer the speculation that the different acoustical environment made the action seem different. (After all, at the end of the day, tone and touch are inextricably linked, each affecting pianists' perception of the other.)

Reflecting back on the experience, I wondered about what made the action seem heavier. My best guess is that being in a much larger space was one aspect. In addition, there is a fair chance that once on a stage, where this superb young artist is quite at home, the very high standards she routinely applies to the instruments on which she is accustomed to performing kicked in. No more, "Just dealing with it," so as not to offend a piano owner in their home (particularly while she was a guest there!).

I had met her before but had never worked with her until that moment. My remark about the different acoustic contributing to the difference between what she heard and felt that morning compared to that afternoon was met with skepticism.

She wondered what could have changed between the morning and the afternoon, possibly as result of the move. I thought about that for a moment, and then decided to leave that matter for Detective Columbo to contemplate--a luxury that I could ill afford-- while I concentrated on making things better before the concert. My mission was to figure out how to make the piano more to her liking, and to accomplish it in the very limited time available. I assured her that I would do everything humanly possible (at least, by this human) in the precious short time we had. (She asked if I would be present for the concert and was visibly reassured when I told her that I would be.)

Sparing you the gory details, as she practiced, I noticed that her fingers and forearms were not free. I began running in my mind what things could be addressed right then and there that might make her life easier and the piano a more transparent vehicle of her music making. When the time came, I leapt into action, tools in hand (and pun intended!). Told the stage manager that it was critical that she try the piano again before the performance began that evening. After all, if that did not happen, this episode would be in violation of The Gospel According to Norman As Preached to His Disciple Rick, commandment number 1 "Do not make any major changes to the piano without the artist agreeing to try it before the concert."

Yes, it occurred to me that if, for any reason, she did not like what I had done to the action, there would in fact not be enough time for me to do much if anything about it. I crossed my fingers, hoping for the best, and preparing for the worst (Standard Operating Procedure). She sat down at the piano, played some of the most demanding passages from her program for that evening, and let me know the good news: the piano was far more playable now than it had been just a few hours earlier.

Now, the concert producer (who was also the piano owner) had not authorized any further work, and was not available for consultation as the situation unfolded. I accepted the risk of deciding to go ahead with it, hoping that the work would be to the artist's satisfaction, and that the producer would pay for it, even though he had not pre-approved it.

By the time the dust had settled, the artist was happy, and the producer paid my bill. When I explained why it was about twice as large as we had originally anticipated, he exclaimed that after the piano returned to his home, he could "actually play it now." (This was the first I ever heard that he was previously experiencing difficulties!) Moreover, he urged me that if there were any more improvements we could make to its playability (and of course, there were), we should schedule that work at my earliest convenience.

The performance that evening was truly breathtaking. I could see from my seat in the front row that her hands and arms were relaxed, that she was now free to do things on that instrument that she couldn't do just a few hours earlier, and that her playing had become more about expression than mechanics.

So, one of the many takeaways from this story is:

Sometimes, it can take a crisis to get things done!

Best,

Alan