Considering the Visible and Invisible in Piano Technique, With Thanks to Tobias Matthay

     

Even without reading Matthay's book, The Visible and Invisible in Piano Technique, much can be gleaned just from the title. It's my favorite title, I think, in the library of rhetoric on piano technique. I say this because much of what comes down to us from those proverbial old wives has to do with what can be observed in the playing of others. 

Tobias Matthay, England's Piano Sage

Even fine players sometimes report the opposite of what they do, only because they think that's what they've seen others do, or perhaps what they think they do. These are the so-called natural players, the Mozarts and Mendelssohns, the Horowitzs and others who arrive from the womb as fully formed pianists. They didn't really go through the how-to period of development the way mortals do.

     But how much can really be observed in an operation that is based largely on sensation? When observing a fine artist perform, never does the viewer sense a struggle—it all appears so easy. That's because it is easy, and most of what is observed is the "unobservable" that supports a fine, effortless technique. Yes, really, the structural underpinning of an efficient and brilliant technique is essentially invisible.

     I mention this here because of a recent experience I had with a student who came for a consultation. She had just finished an undergraduate piano major at an important school of music complaining of various unpleasant, if not debilitating, sensations. Her playing is secure, completely fluent and in virtually every way the playing of a young artist on her way to a rewarding career. If she hadn't presented with complaints, I would not have thought to look for inconsistencies in her physical approach. Rather, I would have sat back and enjoyed her performance.

     The usual indications of a flawed technique were totally absent. Her playing was immaculate, accurate and even thrilling. There were no moments of hesitation or fuzziness in passages. The tempos were appropriate and completely under control. So, what might be causing her discomfort?  I know that it is not necessary to experience physical discomfort when playing the piano. In her case, though, she sometimes felt tingling, strain and wasn't always happy with the quality of the tone. 

   

The Piano is Down, Not Up

 I asked her to play selected passages again. This time, on closer examination it was obvious that she extended her fingers into the air as if pointing. This was not a large gesture, but just enough to cause significant pulling away from the hand. I can hear my teacher now. "Dear," she would say, "the piano is down. The fingers only go up in order to come down again." 

     In other words, it is not efficient to isolate or separate the fingers from the hand individually and keep them pointing in the air, no matter how charming it may appear to the audience. When I pointed this out to her, the concept resonated and she was immediately able to incorporate a different strategy.  We talked about how to apply forearm rotation (see iDemo tab above) to these passages. 

     She won't need to retrain particularly, but rather just be aware of this sensation, the sensation of being down in the key bed in order to be at "rest" and walk from note to note by transferring weight. This will reduce the strain she has experienced over a period of time and help her find the sound she wants. Remember, the quality and quantity of sound is controlled by the application of the arm. Fingers alone cannot provide this control, no matter what you hear from those old wives.

     

The Case of the Jazz Pianist and the Missing Thumb

     

My student brought questions about descending arpeggiated figures in the right hand. He is a very accomplished and much sought-after jazz pianist with considerable facility, so it was somewhat of a surprise to me that these arpeggiated figures were an issue. For most pianists, descending arpeggios are more reliable than ascending. 

     He has in his arsenal of licks (riffs?) many variants of chromatically-altered figures. These he tosses off at will as embellishments in whatever key happens to be current. This facility, it seems to me, is already remarkable. His complaint, though, was that he doesn't feel that they always sound clear and even.  

     

I asked him to play one for me, which he did. It sounded clear and even but I didn't tell him that at first. I asked him how it seemed to him, and he reported that it was not as clear and even as he wanted and that this has been a frustration for him for some time. After some repetitions, we found that these passages sometimes sounded uneven, too. Here we paused for a brief story.

     Many years ago my teacher, John Crown, invited me to play on his television program on public access, a program featuring new music. I had to play through without the option of do-overs, which added a touch of, well let's say— added excitement.  I played okay, I thought, but fluffed one descending scale-like passage. When the program aired, though, the passage in question sounded just fine. I was relieved, of course, but confused. What made me think the passage wasn't clear? It would be many years before I understood what had happened. 

     

In a nutshell, the note(s) in question sounded but hadn't been completed. That is, the weight of my forearm wasn't supporting all of the notes equally, I wasn't transferring weight from one finger to the next as if walking from note to note. This sensation is translated in the brain as "missed" notes, because, in a way they were. The brain didn't hear them because the arm didn't feel them. Stand up. Try walking as if one ankle is sprained,  not putting any weight on it. This hobbling effect is very like what happened to me on television.

     When we looked again at my student's arpeggios, we found that, almost without exception, his thumb wasn't doing both its jobs, the first of which is to play the note and the second is to throw the hand into the new position. In other words, he wasn't always allowing the thumb to toss his hand beyond the thumb cross-over note as he descended, which gives the hand the possibility of turning back to the next finger rotationally. I know, words fail here. Suffice it to say that rotation was missing. (For a video on rotation, click on the iDemos tab above.)

Practical Scales and Arpeggios for Pianists vs Practical Technique

   

The Pianist's guide to
Practical Scales and
Arpeggios

The Pianist's Guide to
Practical Technique

 A student asked me the difference between these two publications, which gave me pause. He also pressed me on the issue of repetition practice of the sort one encounters with devotees of the scale. As always, I had answers.  Only once that I can remember did I find myself speechless when questioned. (This could be a fault.) That was at an after-concert reception when I was approached by the chairwoman of the association, who, mind you, had just heard me play for two hours. There I am in my white tie and tails and she asks me, "Now Mr. Stannard, what is it that you do?" Was I so bad she could't believe I did that for a living? Or could she not conceive of performing for a living? Sigh.

     

Complementary

 The two volumes in question are complementary. The scale/arpeggio volume is a source for those interested in practicing purposeful scales and arpeggios, not just routines that rarely, if ever, occur in the repertoire. The technique volume is similar in that it also consists of excerpts from repertoire, which in this case are meant to take the place of such uninspiring studies  as those composed by Czerny and others.

     

   Yes, we have to learn scales. We need to know finger patterns in all the usual keys—where the thumb crosses. This coincides with basic keyboard harmony, and what I call the topography of the keyboard. That said, it is not particularly beneficial to routinely drill scales, hour after hour, once the patterns are secure. Time is better spent working out passages and/or scales and arpeggios that we will have to play in our repertoire.

Scales and Arpeggios, A Pianist's Practical Guide: Is it True?

Readers have have asked if the dedication page paragraph is true. Yes, it's true. Likewise, the introduction is true. Yes, truth is stranger than fiction. 

Nearly always.

The Pianist's Guide to Scales and Arpeggios: As They Occur in Pieces You Want to Play

The "Look Inside" Feature is NOW AVAILABLE...
for perusal at Amazon. Here is a collection of 796  scales and arpeggios selected from standard repertoire in a volume of over 300 pages. Don't be a slave to mindless repetition of generic scales. 



From the dedication page:

As I put this collection together, I think of my colleague from long-ago graduate school.  She drilled scales for hours at a time, cascades of pearls in all keys that glistened brilliantly in the crisp air.  She played stunning Beethoven, a fourth concerto singing and clear, but it was the obsessive scales that captured her best heart.  When last I heard tell of her she had entered a spiritual order of some sort and never played again.

Strength and Independence Training for Pianists: Not Clear on the Concept

      I once served on a jury charged with deciding a slip and fall case. After listening for five days to arguments on both sides, which included much wringing of hands from the complainant, we decided unanimously after deliberating for ten minutes that the grocery store was not at fault. The paperwork finished and the bailiff summoned, we prepared to end our service and go about our business when one hapless juror raised his hand and said, "but I think the woman should get something."

Peggy Lee

     It seems to me that this is a clear example of that juror being unclear on the concept. If the store isn't at fault, they don't have to pay. The late, great song stylist Peggy Lee puts it wonderfully in the Lieber and Stoller song, "Some Cats Know and Some Cats Don't, And if A Cat Don' Know, He Just Don' Know." This is, of course, a great pity in the matter of civic justice. But a lack of clarity turns up everywhere, even when you least expect it.     

       Discussing piano technique, a professor of piano writes: "I do

believe many of the fingerings, note-grouping concepts, rotational ideas and so on make the passages easier to play than when approached with more traditional ideas." He then adds: "Many pianists'  technical mastery (I know from personal experience) has greatly increased after a year of vigorous Hanon and Czerny, resulting in much stronger fingers without injury." 

     My first thought was that he knows about these "many pianists" because he taught them and because that was his own path. The concept is also just in the wind. The latter explanation is very likely because, due to a long tradition of misunderstanding about how to play the piano in the most efficient way, many pianists have suffered needlessly through the mindless catechism of exercises designed to "strengthen" the fingers and produce "finger independence." 

     I've said it before and I'll say it again now: It's possible to play the piano using many different technical approaches or no particular approach at all. And I don't care to take anything away from someone who has found something that works. Elsewhere in this blog you can find detailed information about my views on technique, or in the book Piano Technique Demystified: Insights into Problem Solving. I feel obliged to point out, however, that if that professor of piano had applied the same judiciousness to passages in repertoire that he applied to Hanon and Czerny, he very likely would have achieved the same "technical mastery" and in the process he'd have something worthwhile to play.