After the Piano Method Books: Some Thoughts for Piano Teachers

    Let's say our young piano student has sailed through one of the many available method books series. He/she is equipped with basic reading skills and has experience in various keys up to, perhaps, one or two flats or sharps. There will no doubt have been some introduction to basic technical issues such as hand position, posture and the correct use of the thumb in an octave scale. They will have learned to open the hand beyond the five-finger position and mastered Alberti figures. We've closed the back cover of the final volume. Now what?

    If there were a choice between mind-numbing exercises of the sort written by Carl Czerny or musical morsels by, say, Mozart, whom would you choose? Oh, dear. I think I may have revealed my predilection.

 There has long been a tendency by teachers to reach for a volume of exercises by Czerny and his ilk, largely I think, because it is convenient. Scales, arpeggios and Alberti figures all lined up in regular progression so that little or no thought on the part of the teacher is required. The idea here is repetition. Not so much in order to learn the correct approach to the various techniques, but rather to build "strength," "independence" and "endurance." (I've written at length about these concepts elsewhere in these pages.) If we accept the fact these non-productive, even destructive ideas are not our goals, then why play these exercises at all? (If you are of the stretch-pull-ouch school of playing, then never mind.) If we understand the technical requirements of each exercise and can therefore play them correctly, there is no need to play them at all.

    In the first exercise of the (in)famous Op. 740, Czerny gives us repeated five-finger patterns, first in the left hand, then in the right. (I would be glad to know if any of you readers have come across such a passage in a piece of music.) I suppose this

is about endurance? Endurance equals strength training, so we don't need it. Is it about evenness? We know how to shape passages over and under to accommodate the different finger lengths, so once applied and worked-in, all this repetition is a waste of time. (Select the iDemos tab above for a shaping demonstration.) The composer tells us this is about the "action of the fingers, the quiet hand." In other words, he separates the fingers from the hand. Ow!

    I would rather spend my time on something like this (Mozart. Nine Pieces for Piano KV Anh. 270):

or:

Yes, there is more to coordinate between the hands, but the effort will result in a useable piece of music. And there are many more such examples to be found for students at different levels.

    Finally, I think it's misguided to think in terms of teaching particular techniques set apart from music: now we'll do five-finger patterns, scale passages, arpeggio passages, two-note slurs—you name it. These techniques can be taught within the context of the music when they come up. Then we extract the new concept from the movement and make mini-etudes of them. How can we make music of we're enduring something?

    

    

Is Czerny a Prerequisite to Liszt?

    

A pianist writes that she is trying to "improve her piano playing." She states that Chopin etudes are" in her grasp" but wants to know how to "take the leap to Liszt's etudes." Pianist Vladimir Pleshakov responds correctly that there is "no mythical ladder" providing a rung by rung ascent to Parnassum. Pardon my reference to Muzio Clementi of Gradus fame.*

   

Czerny is not a prerequisite to anything. Well-meaning though he may have been, his one-thousand plus etudes designed to "strengthen" the fingers or increase "independence" provide little more than a distraction from the real work of working out technical issues in and learning concert repertoire. Remember, he was himself a celebrated prodigy, having made his debut at age nine in a performance of Mozart's C minor concerto. This begs the question, what etudes did he study? I speculate that, since he was a "natural" and doubtless had few if any technical issues, his etudes written for others less fortunate than he were the result of speculation on his part. And incidentally, there was money to be made.

   

Now, gentle reader, before sending me hate mail, consider this. The configurations in the Czerny studies can be found in standard Classical repertoire. Why not practice them there. You can, of course, play as many studies as you want, but you will only have learned to play studies. You will not automatically be able to play Liszt or Chopin. If the original poster can already "grasp" Chopin etudes, there is no reason to suppose she would not be able to move on to Liszt without first wasting time running around the barn. (If you are a regular reader of my essays, you know that we pianists don't train for physical strength and that the fingers are not and never will be independent of one another, though they can be made to sound as if.) 

    When I was a graduate student, I overheard one of my very accomplished colleagues practicing scales and advanced studies. They were flawless. When she emerged from her studio, I asked her why. She said she enjoyed it. That, my friends, is the only reason to play Czerny studies.

    Note: Major and melodic minor Scales have to be learned as a matter of keyboard topography and keyboard harmony. Once fluent, with hands together at a moderate tempo, it is not particularly helpful as a matter of technique to drill them endlessly. As a matter of convenience in the beginning stages, it may be useful to use some of the five-finger patterns in Czerny or elsewhere. Even so, these patterns can also be found in early sonatinas and other beginning pieces. If used as "etudes", these patterns will provide a head start on future repertoire.

*Gradus ad Parnassum (1817) by Muzio Clementi. It means "steps to mastery." Parnassus is a mountain in central Greece standing 8000 feet high. 

Crossing the Thumb "Under"

   In an expression of frustration, my father used to remark that he wished he had a nickel for every time he had to repeat himself. I suppose today, what with inflation and all, it would be more like sixty dollars. I don't mind repeating myself, though, even without getting paid.

    In a public forum a pianist writes: "I've had

trouble crossing my thumb under my third and fourth finger in my left hand when playing scales, causing my hand to stumble and lose its place, for forever." A well-meaning responder offers the following help: "It's the P word [practice?] again. Constant work at the scales starting slow until you're under control and  then increasing the speed will aid muscle memory to the [point] where you will do it without thinking. Like a drill in sports." 

   

Okay. Here's the thing. We don't drill at the piano the way we would in sports, should we be inclined to do sports. The muscles we train at the piano are refined and we work for physical coordination, not for bulk and strength. True, we do repetition training in order to "work in" our technical solutions so that they become automatic. We rely on this in speed.

    And yes we "practice" along the lines outlined in an earlier essay. But in order to move the thumb after we've run out of other fingers, we do not cross it under.  In a descending, left-hand scale (or right-hand), the thumb plays its note and immediately is allowed to hang (yes, hang) behind the second finger. It is allowed (not forced) to move in similar fashion behind each successive finger as that finger plays. This puts the forearm at an angle to the keyboard. (The arm may be at any angle with the keyboard as long as it is straight with itself.) When the thumb is required to play its note, it will already have arrived over it. It then plays by means of a rotation of the forearm, which is our quickest and most natural movement. (By natural I mean that it is a movement the forearm was designed to do.) If instead the thumb is pulled under the hand, the only way it can play is to fall on its note, which produces the result described by the original poster above.

    For a demonstration of this movement, select the tab above labeled "iDemos" and choose "forearm rotation." The discussion of thumb crossings begins at about 4:30. The example is in the right hand; the left is, of course, the same in reverse.   

    Please remember, efficient practicing is deliberate, with the brain engaged. First, decide on the correct movement and only then begin to work it in. Practice on purpose; reject mindless rote.

My New Domain

 

Gentle readers: There was a disturbance in the ether world resulting in the disappearance of my domain. The new domain is:               www.pianotechniquedemystified.com.

How Should We Play the Piano?

        

Someone on a public forum asked "how should we play the
piano?" An avid practicer responded with a helpful list in which he wrote the word practice one hundred times. At one-hundred-one he suggested repeating the above. A responder asked, insightfully, "but what if I'm doing it wrong?" The response was: "If you're doing it wrong, you're not trying hard enough...just put in a better effort."

    This reminded me of something my late friend Bob once told me in a fit of pique. It seems I had pushed a button when I criticized his driving—not signaling until after he started a lane change.  I pointed out that the object of signaling was to let others know in advance what he intended to do. "I've been driving for sixty years," was his indignant reply, and that was not the end of it. I bit my tongue, but I thought to myself that he'd been doing it wrong for sixty years.

     Well, of course we should play the piano correctly. But the word practice is itself loaded. In a way, it's like the word opera, which encompasses many disciplines. At the very least, though, practice implies repetition. But I would venture to ask, "repeat what?" One obvious answer might be "the notes" in order to beat them into our memory. Or the phrasing. Maybe the quality of sound and the relationship of dynamic contrasts. But no, for me practice, the repetition, begins after the intellect has decided what the objectives are and what are the appropriate mechanisms required in order to achieve the desired result. (Maybe we should call that  pre-practice?) How do I move from one note to the next? What is the most effective fingering? What is the technical shaping or grouping? (Shaping and grouping as techniques are discussed elsewhere in these pages.) Of course, I refer here primarily to passages that require specialized attention. Still, all practicing is something we do on purpose. It is not a mindless rote activity.

    I should add that for me, a correct approach is one in which the playing apparatus (fingers, hand, forearm) are used in a coordinate manner and according to their design.