The piano is the greatest invention in the history of solo instruments, with the possible exception of the organ. It also, in later years of its development, in New Orleans, not only played a significant role in creating Dixieland, and Jazz, but arguably had a greater influence than even guitar, in the invention of Rock & Roll. It is extremely versatile instrument that can play a primary role in a variety of genres. It retained this distinction in the West until the advent of the microphone. The string tension it withstands has not been surpassed by any other instrument, and so, it remains apart from electronic amplification capable of producing more sound than any other string instrument. The invention of the plate, or string frame, has permanently given the modern piano this distinction for 150 years.

Piano use and care is something that people contend over, not just in practice, but in theory. Generation to generation, systems are created and discarded for doing so most effectively. The penultimate question, is, should a system be adopted and unalterably adhered to? What is considered fair, and what, foul, in promoting a system that I find particularly appealing? This question is more important than how to obtain clientele. It requires ethical consideration.

The piano technician is not only expected to be just an artist, engineer, or woodworker, though any will demonstrate at least a modest understanding in all these things. Unfortunately, to-day, the piano technician has largely been transformed into just an engineer, and less so, woodworker, in spite of the question often pondered by piano technicians and the arts community, about the role art plays in our business. There are also many isolated components of piano maintenance within such categories, however, amidst the determination of piano technicians to characterize themselves as artists by default somehow. Does the piano technician really need to be an artist? Should AI, and digital tuning, effectively eliminate the need for artistry in the field?