When a lesson becomes a small concert

Two microphones hang above the piano in our teaching room. Most people who come in for the first time glance up and wonder what they are for. The answer is one of the loveliest parts of my teaching, and honestly something I have scarcely come across at any other music school.

Why this matters so much to me has to do with my own history. I do not only stand at the piano as a teacher; I have played on big stages myself. With my musical partner Philipp Leon I was the support act on piano for artists such as LEA, Adel Tawil and Madeline Juno, at times in front of around 5,000 people. And I will tell you honestly: I do not know stage fright from a textbook, I know it from the inside. Shortly before going on, I had exactly the clammy hands and far too fast pulse that I now recognise in my students. That is also why I know what genuinely helps against it.

Two microphones above the piano

Our lessons do not take place in a classic practice room but in a real recording studio. And whenever a piece sounds truly lovely and really comes together, I press record — provided the student wants that. No great fanfare, no fixed programme. Simply in passing, when the moment is right. In this way an entirely ordinary lesson becomes a small recording session for a few minutes.

Why a recording changes everything

The moment the recording is running, something happens to the playing. Suddenly it counts. It is no longer relaxed practice where a slip does not matter, but a moment in which everything should sit: the notes, the timing, the calm in the hands. That is fundamentally exactly the situation you know from a performance. And here is the lovely part: if it does not work, we simply do it again. No audience looking disappointed, no single chance now gone. Just another take.

With a recording, everything has to be right. And if it is not, you simply do it again. That is exactly what is lovely about it.

For me every one of these recordings feels a little like a concert. That particular performance tension can almost be recreated with it, only in a protected space where mistakes are expressly allowed. You get the best of both worlds: the seriousness of a real performance and the security that nothing can break.

The best remedy for stage fright

And that is where perhaps the greatest benefit lies. Stage fright is not a beginner's problem that grows out of itself over time. It hits professional musicians severely too. Review studies estimate that between 16 and 60 per cent of professional musicians suffer from it.¹ The reassuring part is that something can be done about it — not through deep breathing or encouragement, but through habituation. Anyone who repeatedly puts themselves into small performance situations sees their tension demonstrably fall. In one study with musicians, heart rate, restlessness and even the number of playing errors dropped markedly after only a few repeated performances.²

It was no different for me back then. What really helped before those big performances was not the encouragement but the sheer repetition: going into that situation once, twice, twenty times, until the body eventually grasps that it is not in danger. A recording during a lesson is exactly that kind of small, safe performance situation. Anyone who has learned to stay calm with the microphone running and still play their best is not so easily thrown later by a real recital, an exam, or a celebration at their grandparents' house. You are training not only the fingers but the nerves.

What remains at the end

Besides the stage fright, there are a few more things I love about these recordings. First, they are the most honest feedback there is. You hear yourself for the first time as you actually sound, and not as you felt while playing.

Second, over time the recordings grow into a kind of diary. When you compare the first recording from the summer with last week's, you hear in black and white how far you have come. Nothing motivates more than that proof that the effort pays off. And third, something is simply left over at the end. Not a fleeting moment in a lesson, but a genuine recording of your own playing that you can send on, keep, or listen to again in ten years. Many people start to feel like real musicians for the first time because of it, and that feeling carries further than any praise.

An offer, not an obligation

One thing matters to me here: nobody has to record anything. It is an offer, not an item on the programme. Anyone who simply wants to play and learn does exactly that, entirely fine. Recording only happens when the student expressly wants it, and with children of course only with their parents' consent. The whole thing is meant to be a lovely extra, not a means of pressure.

In the end it is exactly this kind of small thing that makes the difference. Two microphones, one button, and a practice session becomes a small performance that you get to keep. That is precisely what separates lessons in a real recording studio from an ordinary practice room. If you want to experience how that feels, simply come and see us at ARTIQ Music School in Mainz-Finthen.