Play Comes First

A Simple Game, A Useful Reminder

This morning I played a lively game of Crazy Eights at the breakfast table. You probably know the game: you match either the number on the card or the suit, eights are wild, and when someone plays a two, the next person picks up two extra cards. The rules are simple enough that you don’t have to think about them constantly, which means you can focus on playing.

That experience reminded me of something important as I continue redeveloping the Partimenti Workshop.

At the very top of my priorities right now sits one word: play.

Why Play Comes First

Encouraging play sits higher on my list than teaching audiation. Higher than teaching patterns or schema. Higher than connecting repertoire to historical practice, or even bridging those practices into the 21st century. Higher than improvisation or composition themselves.

All of those things matter deeply. But play comes first.

Just like in Crazy Eights, play doesn’t mean the absence of rules — and having rules doesn’t make play less fun. In fact, a card game without rules would quickly stop being enjoyable. You’d spend more time negotiating what counts than actually playing. Rules give play something to push against. They create the conditions for freedom.

Music works the same way.

Play and Musical Flow

When we play with music, we often enter a state of flow. We become less judgmental about our ideas because we’re not trying to prove anything — we’re simply exploring. Ideas emerge more easily. Experimentation feels natural. Music-making becomes curious, light, and enjoyable.

None of this makes music less serious. In many cases, it makes the work deeper.

Play invites attention, listening, and engagement in ways that purely technical work sometimes cannot.

Teaching Through Play

This idea shapes how I think about teaching every day.

Of course I want my students to develop healthy technique at the keyboard or on their instrument. I want them to understand the repertoire they’re studying. If they’re learning classical music, I want them to play stylistically and thoughtfully.

But before all of that, I want them to feel comfortable playing with the elements of the music.

That might mean experimenting with rhythms, exploring accompaniment patterns, or improvising with fragments of repertoire. When students do this, the music often starts to sound freer, more alive — more playful, in the best sense of the word.

And historically, this isn’t unusual. Bach did this. Mozart did this. Creative engagement with musical material has always been part of musicianship.

It also gives students something invaluable: musical building blocks they can use in their own improvisation and composition.

A Few Questions for You

So I’ll leave you with a few questions to consider:

How do you play with music?

If you teach, how do you make your teaching playful?

If you compose, does play have a place in your creative process?

And if you perform, how do you play with the music you’re learning rather than simply reproducing it?