BY THOMAS MISSON
Is their piece harder? Are the playing faster than me? Are they younger than me? Did they start playing seriously before me?
These insecurities spin in a perpetual loop for so many musicians. If you’d seen 21-year-old Jack Barnes play piano, you probably wouldn’t believe the answer to that last question is most likely ‘no’. Jack is a late bloomer – and he’s used this to his advantage.
Originally planning to enrol in audio design, Jack is studying his third year of music at the University of Tasmania and after a successful performance of Carl Vine’s Piano Concerto no 1 at the Hobart Eisteddfod, he’s beginning to prepare for several recitals this October. I sit down with the aspiring pianist to discuss neuroscience, prog rock, breaking piano stools, and the advantages of life as a late bloomer.
Your grandfather was an amateur pianist, but aside from this you’re not from a musical family. How does this dynamic suit you?
I think that’s a good thing as there’s no expectations on the direction I’m to take with my music. I’ve decided to do music on my own behalf, and have been able to find my own path. In fact, I spent a great deal of my early life taking casual lessons and having hardly any motivation to practice. My teacher would tell me to work harder but I didn’t want to. My parents even thought I might quit at age 11 or 12. I had even been dissuaded by a few people when it comes to classical music, which by my current repertoire is half right!
How did your interest in music start?
I was initially into pop, rock and metal but one day during year 12 I got bored in class and Googled “hardest piano piece”, thinking Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’ (third movement) was the yardstick. An unfamiliar piece called ‘Gaspard De La Nuit’ by Ravel popped up a few times. I was immediately absorbed and fascinated by it, not just because of its technical problems but because of the expressive capabilities of the piano I never knew about. From here, I enrolled in classical piano at UTAS instead of pursuing my original choice of audio design.
Being such a late bloomer, has it been difficult to put aside insecurities about the development of your technique and your level of achievement relative to your age? Or have you somehow freed yourself from this?
At first, it definitely bothered me but gradually I learned that it doesn’t matter. I used to see performers much younger than me coming into piano class and playing difficult repertoire while I was just getting my feet off the ground and I felt embarrassed. At the end of the day, we’re not robots designed to play X amount of notes correctly. What matters instead is producing a good product at any age, and I’m a lot happier for thinking this way. Never compare yourself to others, because there are too many factors at work that are so different to your own and many of them can’t be helped. Being a late bloomer even has its advantages – your approach is different. You can find your own way because the expectations on you aren’t as heavy and the risk of running out of motivation and burning out is less of a problem.
You’ve been praised by many for your capacity for memory. How did you develop such an asset to your playing?
This could stem from a few things. Through school, I had a problem with my eyes that made it difficult to read called Convergence Insufficiency and because of this I hated reading and studying and started memorising everything. Though, I will admit to a degree of laziness on my part. Through this, my memory was greatly strengthened.
You have a particular affinity for 20th Century, avant-garde, new and Australian music. How do you want to incorporate this repertoire into your career?
The second important exposure to this kind of music was watching Michael Kieran Harvey perform Nigel Westlake’s Piano Sonata no 1. This treated the work like a percussion ensemble in ways I had never heard before and it was ripe with extreme dissonance and rhythmic drive. I realised that not all music is meant to be palatable and easy to listen to. Some of it is merely meant to be effective or emotional (for example, ‘Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima’ by Penderecki) and I think that it’s difficult to translate that sometimes. It can be frustrating when people dismiss this music without knowing that this motivates these compositions. From that moment, I started branching out into 20th Century works, discovering the music of Ligeti, Messiaen, Stockhausen, Xenakis and George Crumb. I knew that this was for me and this was what I wanted to do with my life.
Do you think the rock/pop/groove impetus that drives much of 20th Century composition is one we should exploit? Invite our musical neighbours over the fence, so to speak?
This is pretty much how I got into 20th Century music. I saw similarities between piano sonatas by Ginastera, Bartok, Westlake, Vine and my favourite metal bands Meshuggah and Dream Theater and was immediately attracted to them. Progressive rock existed after a lot of these works, which is intriguing. Though, I’m not sure of how of how to exploit this – yet.
What’s a typical work day for you involve? How many hours of practice?
My work day changes all the time! During a semester, I will aim for three or four hours on weekdays and one to two on weekends. I firmly believe that recreation is just important as work, so my practice hours are perhaps a little lower than some other pianists. I’ve read up on basic neuroscience and psychology, and from my research I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s what you do with those practice hours that counts more. I’ve also read that sleep is a very important part of the learning process because your brain replays the motor patterns as building blocks for your muscle memory. So it’s important to practice correctly for this reason.
Spending too much time in practice, your attention span decays and you start getting diminishing returns. Arthur Rubinstein once said if you need to practice more than four hours a day, then you’re doing something wrong. There was a few days here and there when I did do eight hours because I thought I was behind in my practice, and I very much regretted many of those practice hours.
It’s all about what works for you. If you can practice well for eight hours, more power to you.
What does your dream career look like? Does it involve learning any other styles like jazz, picking up another instrument? Any other disciplines like composing or conducting?
I would like to give many recitals of music I find interesting, form relationships with composers, and promote new Australian music as it’s underplayed repertoire compared to Beethoven, Brahms, and Mozart. I really think that this modern repertoire needs to be heard because it would give new ideas to the public.
I do a little bit of composition but I don’t ‘study’ it. I would like to take lessons one day and perhaps include my own pieces in the recitals. Going back to my prog rock/metal roots, perhaps picking up the drums again is something that also appeals to me and perhaps synthesising classical and rock a little like Frank Zappa.
Have you developed any quirky superstitions or routines before, during or after performing?
I head bang a bit like I’m at a Metallica concert during the more percussive repertoire. I have a theatrical style of playing where sometimes my hands just go with the flow of the music whether or not they really need to. I have also broken a piano stool during a performance of the Bartok piano sonata. That aside, I’m pretty normal.
