Today, contemplating Mozart's only piano sonata in G major with a longtime dedicated amateur student we hit on Mozart's trademark combination of the strong with the weak. Sound the stronger two notes of any triad, then add in an unlikely third note, transforming the expectation of strong into vulnerable. Put a full triad in root position on the downbeat opening a section: it will be strong, no? Well, not if it's in the wrong key and minor instead of the expected major.

Such elements are the stuff of high artistry. They are instinctively felt and reacted to by the musical amateur and by the child who feels free to manifest a reaction. The reaction usually show up in "wrong" notes--errors that reveal the activity of the inner musical sense at work.

What is a person to do when someone in the family is practicing and it is truly irksome?

Obvious suggestions: Close the door. Go for a walk.

Less good: Run the vacuum cleaner. Turn up the TV.

Better yet, instead of comparing the sound to a pre-fabricated version of the piece, try to imagine what your relative is trying to achieve and how it might relate to things you know about that person.

A relative of mine, in just that situation, asked me one of the most thoughtful questions I have ever been asked: "Do you think that sounds good?" The answer was: "No!" In reply I received an encouraging pat on the arm with the words, "Don't worry. It'll get better." The relative was my son at age seven; the instrument a tuned-in-the-factory cello that I was trying to get the hang of.

Two realities put his question in perspective. First, I knew it would not get better because it was much harder than I could have imagined to play the cello in tune after decades of living with the sound of the piano. Second, and more important, he knew me as a pianist who sounds good on the instrument I do know how to play. By asking the question he took care of himself and he made me conscious of how my listening relates to others.

It reminds me of the unforgettable opening line of the play "Harry Outside" by Corinne Jacker: "Isn't my practicing bothering anybody?"

No matter how primitive, no matter how "inept," music made by someone you know and/or love is preferable to the recorded version. It is better for the cultivation of you as an empathetic listener and better for the music maker because it represents encouragement. It is important to encourage the inept because those who are naturally gifted don't usually need encouragement. The less-ept are usually the ones who really want to be good at whatever it is. Their desire is palpable, though often not expressed until later in life if at all.

I am for the desire. It lasts longer.

Part of the problem of listening to recorded music all the time is that it inevitably has the sound limitations of the can inside of which it is played back. In getting used to that one loses a lot of auditory alertness. It is, in terms of tone, negative learning.

Tone -- real, acoustical tone in all its imperfect and unpredictable presence -- is endlessly fascinating. So many elements factor into it and into our perception of it.

Sit up close whenever you can. Go to hear students play so that it doesn't cost an arm and a leg to get a front row seat. Students need an audience and you need to sensitize your antennae.

Music is a perfect image of life. Each measure, each beat, each part of each beat represents a fresh beginning. The same "you" who played that note wrong yesterday or two minutes ago no longer exists, but is replaced by a new "you" who will play that note differently because charged with new energy, new vitality.

No wonder musicians come into our own in our 60's and really get steaming in our 80's. No wonder many great artists are still performing at 100.

You could look it up.

In my studio there is a special standard: "Better than perfect."* What makes some playing rate that description is a quality of devotion not usually associated with children, except for those with special prodigious gifts. I find that, if given the benefit of the doubt, most children respond to the magic of vibrations with precisely that kind of attentive care. They treat sound as a living thing, respectfully and with all their wit and wits about them.

It's really a shame that a teacher's insistence on perfection can so readily cloud the vision of so many kids.

*See post of June 3, 2009

Continuing: The issue is to notice when deviation becomes distortion.

The other day I was recalling hearing Myra Hess play three Mozart piano concertos one afternoon in Chicago. I was about twelve. All I remember is that she was revered by my teacher, that she played with the music, and that her scales were unacceptable. Years later a violinist colleague recalled hearing Fritz Kreisler play in Chicago at about the same time in her life, remembering specifically how sloppy his playing was. We agreed that we would give our eye-teeth to hear such bad playing again.

Traditionally teachers go to great pains to make children conform to steady beats while many psychologists and musical thinkers (Jeanne Bamberger, among them) are coming to the thoroughly researched conclusion that there is no such thing.