It is an occupational hazard of the aspiring musician to practice too much. While we require a baseline physical aptitude, music demands a lot of time inside one’s own head. The premium on memorisation attracts personalities with an ascetic disposition, who will forsake most other pastimes and pleasures without second thought. I often fit this description, as I am, like most serious musicians, unapologetically nerdy. One simply has to become some degree of socially-wanting boffin to seriously commit the required thousands of hours to the study of music. It’s a geeky pursuit, rife with technical inquiry and habitual obsessions, buried in books, scores and records. There are several fairly legitimate stereotypes of outstanding musicians neglecting other aspects of their lives: haircuts become a low-priority, sunlight is optional, and yes, many a musician clung so tightly to their school’s music department that by graduation, they could no longer locate the sports hall or athletic track. With hindsight to my own education, and considering our health and well-being above all, this is a risky manoeuvre that many of us nonetheless felt compelled to take.
Telling people that exercise is good for them is marvellously tedious, and I’m almost embarrassed to make this particular point in this particular article. But as someone whose enthusiasm for fitness yo-yo’s from joyful play to “this is for children and dogs”, I must semi-begrudgingly join the chorus: the sporty people do have a point. Not only is regular sports and training great for your general wellbeing, it also makes us sharper and more resilient music-makers.
There are countless ways to keep fit – my most regular commitments are weight lifting and spin class, and most crucially, stretching. While I can sometimes resent the time taken away from my practice and reading, I really cannot stress the vital benefits of injury or strain prevention. Take just one activity: the deadlift. This is considered a rather hardcore move even by avid gym-goers (scary name!), and it is synonymous with monstrous bodybuilders and risk-it-all strongmen stunts. But resilient back muscles are a non-negotiable if I’m going to be practicing several hours everyday while sitting on a formidably minimal piano stool (while going full Radu Lupu is tempting, I value the posture discipline that the humble stool demands). Many pianists, especially the taller ones, struggle with back pain in adulthood. This is because the activity, despite the energy and physicality it demands, is fundamentally sedentary (unless you’re this king), and if I were to do little else but practice, my back muscles would naturally weaken from lack of use, increasing the risk of injury. But why deadlift, Keelan? Isn’t that risky too? It is if you’re lifting for the biggest numbers possible – and while my base machismo does find Ronnie Coleman’s 800 pounds for reps cool as hell – I’d gently suggest that we not attempt this, and instead focus on more modest weights for higher reps, aiding broader fitness and movement. It’s a large “compound” movement that takes its own technique to master, but with a little guidance and practice, the whole-body development is truly invaluable for my work at the piano. For what it’s worth, I’ve never suffered strain or injury at my instrument, even with heavy gluts practice, because the piano’s moments of intensity pale in comparison to the things that I do in the gym. This means no cancelling of concerts or suffering through them to secure the work – I am simply better at the job. Alongside worthwhile explorations of Alexander Technique and physiotherapies, there’s no getting around having a strong muscular system that can take strain and heal fast – because the work of being a musician requires exactly that.
On balance, musicians are somewhere between poets and athletes. The former being a literary and dramatic pursuit, demanding good judgement and creative, intellectual flair. The latter is all about physical performance, which gets as much at the essence of musicianship as it does athleticism. The importance of consistency and the minimization of any unnecessary tension figures high in most sport and music technique. It’s quite telling that a certain luxury watch brand’s ambassadors are tennis legend Roger Federer and pianist Yuja Wang. Both somehow meet in the middle, at the pinnacle of their respective disciplines. Federer is remembered as much for his effortless appearance on the court as for his countless victories, while Wang delivers all of the artistry one could ask for whilst consistently demonstrating top-shelf technical poise (in interviews, Wang claims not to pay much mind to physical fitness, but is at the very least a keen jogger. I’ll take that as an endorsement for my cause.) In 2024, Yuja Wang performed a marathon concert at Carnegie hall, performing all five of Rachmaninoff’s works for piano and orchestra. Intriguingly, her heart rate and energy consumption was tracked over the two and a half hour concert, revealing that she burned just shy of 2,500 calories during the performance. That’s equivalent to running an actual marathon. While this is one of the more extreme concert feats, it is an engaging insight into the biological implications of musical performance.
For many readers, I hope that this article is totally redundant. Many musos revel in an active lifestyle, but for those who particularly enjoy the more cerebral aspects of music: ignore fitness at your peril. For one thing, it is a mistake to focus on activities of the mind at the expense of the body. My fellow amateur philosophers will be aware of the so-called mind-body “problem” – do ideas and thoughts materially exist, or do they inhabit another more metaphysical realm of existence? It’s a great question – and if you want to think about it seriously, you best be in good health! It is entirely possible that the mind exists beyond our physical bodies (luminous beings are we, not this crude matter…) but one does not work without the other. We know conclusively that regular exercise is great for the brain too, and consequently the mind. Our physical stamina and persistence correlate with mental stamina and focus. There’s historical precedents, too: the ancient Hellenic philosophers were mostly as disciplined about their physical prowess as their intellectual. Simply put: a fitter you is a smarter you.
One shouldn’t write off the auxiliary benefits, either. Playing a sport with others is a rewarding social experience. Even the local gym is something of a communal third space for many, including myself. If your instrument requires a lot of solo practice, this is a priceless additional benefit. And needless to say: being sociable and amicable beyond your instrument makes a career just as much as being simply good at your instrument. Different families of instruments fare better than others socially, and it is also repertoire-dependent. Famously extroverted singers have it great socially: working on an opera for example is innately collaborative. Brass players are typically performing in ensembles from the off (this is especially true in the UK, which has a thriving brass band culture) making them some of the most well-adjusted musicians I’ve so far worked with. Concert pianists and violinists? Hmmm…we can be trickier; the self-imposed isolation to master demanding repertoire can take its toll on mind and body, especially in younger years. Organists don’t stand a chance of being normal. Even the architecture has an effect on them: hard-to-reach, cloistered organ lofts physically seal off the poor souls from the broader population. Free leisure centre memberships for organists, I say!
I have one final upside to working out and keeping fit, albeit this one is a stretch. Given my occasional forays into mass media and broadcasting, I proudly qualify as a “triple-Z list celebrity”. My literal 15-30 minutes of fame on a long-running TV quiz show apparently made an impression on some viewers beyond my slightly above-average knowledge recall. In a bizarre and frankly pioneering turn of events, I, Keelan Carew, owe part of my career success as a musician so far to my habit of going to the gym (and also to the British tabloid press’ routine objectification of anyone and everyone). Indeed – all publicity might just be good publicity.
While that final point is the crudest and most embarrassing example of why one might sign up for a gym membership, it does highlight a binding aspect of most musicians’ paths. The average musician’s career development is very un-average, and we often cannot predict the chance encounters that lead to the next gig. The nature of the work often favours the adaptable. Maintaining that optimism of opportunity is essential: riding the highs and weathering the lows will make or break a performance, let alone a career. To be good-humoured goes a long way, and exercise helps here, too. While I’ll likely always favour more heady and, well, pretentious pursuits, I have to give credit to the straightforward wisdom and affirmation we cultivate when working out. It’s progress.
