Learning Piano in the Age of Distraction: Why Focus Matters

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 Observing this old caricature, we see a faithful representation of the environment that careless parents provide for a child’s practice. A disaster!

 A girl trying to practice in the middle of a room where a baby is crying on the floor, her little brother is playing the drum and the trumpet, while, on the other side, the mother is engaged in pleasant conversation and a card game. How many situations like this must be happening somewhere? And this does not only occur with children, but also with adults who attempt to practice in environments full of distractions. How can we concentrate with noise around us, people talking, a television turned on?

The learning of any subject cannot be carried out successfully without one hundred percent attention. Any student who wants to progress in their practice needs privacy, intimacy, and silence. They must be in contact with their own perceptions; they need to observe and reflect on what they are doing. Of course, it is a solitary activity—but there is no other way.

We live in an age of distraction and lack of attention. An age in which most people, for example, meet someone for a meal in a restaurant, yet intermittently check their phones, browse social media, or engage in anything that prevents them from truly connecting with the other person. Can two people really communicate like this, with their attention focused on something other than the words of their interlocutor? What kind of communication is that? This extends to almost everything: work, study, listening to music at home or in a concert hall. Consequently, such people would find the scene depicted in this caricature quite fitting.

How can a student prepare their lesson under such conditions? Studying requires absolute concentration so that effort is not wasted. How could mistakes not be made—and go unnoticed—when studying with the mind elsewhere?

Distractions may originate not only externally but also internally. They may arise from a turbulent inner dialogue, from thoughts unrelated to the act of playing the piano. For example, a pianist in a concert could not perform a prelude by Bach well while thinking: “Did I lock the door?” “I hope I told so-and-so about that.” “Oh! How that person is coughing.” “I’m not sure if I’ll go there later.” That pianist would not achieve the desired result; it would be a performance without meaning or substance. The performer must connect with the music, with the work they have learned, and convey the message of that Bach prelude.

Mental concentration also requires training. In piano playing, attention must always be placed in the here and now—while playing, practicing, reviewing, and learning. For this reason, I recommend that my students place their instrument at home in a private space, free from any kind of interruption. Otherwise, any effort becomes wasted time and energy.

Another characteristic of our times, closely linked to distraction, is the rush for instant results. The practice and quality of any art run counter to the technological immediacy in which we live. In other fields, this immediacy is extremely useful—and surely also in other musical genres, though not the one to which I dedicate myself.

The piano is an art, and its practice is a form of meditation. One cannot perform well while studying if one is thinking only about the goal rather than how to build the path toward it. The goal, of course, must be there, in sight and not forgotten. But until that point is reached, one must devote all senses to preparing the path and learn to wait.

While studying, learning, practicing, or performing in concert, think first of the here and now. The result will be a consequence. I recommend choosing an appropriate place for your piano—one that fosters attentive and fruitful practice.

A. Guzmán Roldán