The book is now available at Amazon, including the LOOK INSIDE feature. It is also available at Create Space E-Store. As you may have surmised, the book was inspired by the posts in this blog, though many of the articles have been considerably expanded and illustrated. There are also several new sections, namely, a chapter on the co-dependence of the hands, a not-to-be-missed concluding "putting it all together" chapter and a chapter of teaching moments. I'll be interested to have feedback on any aspect of the book, especially those teaching moments, whether or not they are useful. It is time-consuming to devise these, but if they are useful I'll do more.
Playing the Piano is Easy and Doesn't Hurt! Learn how to solve technical problems in Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin and all the other composers you want to play. Reconsider whether to spend time on exercises and etudes or music. Discover ways to avoid discomfort and injury and at the same time increase learning efficiency. How are fast octaves managed without strain? How are leaps achieved without seeming to move? And listen to great pianists of the past.
“Music is a moral law. It gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, a charm to sadness, and life to everything. It is the essence of order, and leads to all that is good, just and beautiful, of which it is the invisible, but nevertheless dazzling, passionate, and eternal form.” Plato
For those of you who want to get a head start, my book is available now at Create Space E-Store, which is an Amazon company. Amazon.com will have it within the week. Remember, the first reader to notify me of any typos may have a free piano lesson if feasible. Or choose a limited-edition, signed photo similar to the one posted in this blog under "Off Topic." I'll soon have a link to my portfolio, where you can take your pick. If you find an error in my book, just click on the contact button above and let me know the page number and location and leave your contact information. I decide if it's a valid error.
Piano Technique Demystified: Insights into Problem Solving... Available NOW at Amazon
A certain facility came quickly and easily to me, which may explain why I escaped more rigorous incursions by teachers into my private musical world. Czerny studies were offered, though as I recall, not stressed with particular enthusiasm. From rather early on, ever more advanced repertoire passed through my hands and, exciting as that was for an eager musical mind, problems would abound and my instinct was to pass over, play through or otherwise ignore them. Somehow I made the music convincing enough to pass inspection, at least for a time, but I always felt at the mercy of the piano and its mysteries. There appeared more and more brick walls and by the time I reached collage, my forehead was quite sore.
I was definitely not a prodigy. Facile sight-reading, physical dexterity and the emotional outpourings of the neurotic loner made up my skill set. When I practiced, and I use the term here loosely, technical passages sounded best on the first few readings. The more I repeated them the worse they got. Strange, no? You may be wondering how I handled this phenomenon. Simple, I practiced less and played more.
Did you spot the clue I planted in the previous paragraph? If so, you may have a head start on the material in this book. If passages get worse on repetition, that is, if the mechanism tires and accuracy or speed become forfeit, then muscles are not working in an efficient, well-synchronized manner. Back up now to the first paragraph. When I got serious about perfecting a movement, and I was a very serious student, all I knew to do was repeat slowly and in various rhythms. All that this produced, sadly, was a working-in of technical vagaries, perhaps correct and useful or wrong and destructive. Fortunately, since my practicing consisted primarily of playing, I escaped injury.
The advice given to me about practicing is akin to a doctor treating a patient without an examination. No doctor would prescribe all of his remedies to every patient for every ailment, regardless of the complaint. The advice is too general and vague. It comes from an approach that assumes muscles are muscles and if you build them technique will come. This is not true.
A pharmacist friend of mine spent most of his career observing the inner workings of the pharmaceutical industry. He has developed a somewhat cynical attitude, justifiable I think, regarding the development of remedies. Many pills go through many trials and are often rejected for their intended purposes. What then to do with these pills? Obviously, invent a disease. I offer here some remedies, but if you don’t have the ailment, don’t invent one. Every pianist comes from a different technical background in which some, perhaps most, of the technique works just fine. My purpose here is to describe as well as words will allow what the body can do, what it wants to do and how to put it to use in the service of making music at the piano.
Dear Readers,
They said it couldn't be done and yet here it is. My new book should be available at Amazon by May 9th, or so. You may recognize the title. Yes, it was inspired by and is based on articles published here. In the book, though, these topics are greatly expanded and illustrated with photos and musical examples. There is a must-read introduction, several new topics, an appendix of a Pianist's Essential Library and a section called Fifty Teaching Moments, in which I explicate familiar problems in standard teaching pieces. You will be able to thumb through some of its pages at Amazon. Speaking of the thumb, I've added more detailed information about how the thumb "crosses" and included some of my own suggestions for fingering certain passages. The first person to bring to my attention any typos gets a free piano lesson.
Here is the publication blurb: In this volume you will find the distillation of a life in music, a "how to" for the muscian seeking joy in music-making. Here are insights into learning to play using the natural design of the body. Dispel old wives' tales and myths left over from the 18th century. Learn to make accurate leaps, to play fast without feeling hurried. What is practicing and how and why should we memorize music? And how can we put anxiety to good use? What is a good hand position and really, how slowly should I practice? If you've ever felt at a loss as to how to achieve the excellence you would like at the piano, then take a look at this book. Non-pianists will find information on performance anxiety, memorizing and effective practice methods, in addition to concepts on how the body wants to move.
They said it couldn't be done and yet here it is. My new book should be available at Amazon by May 9th, or so. You may recognize the title. Yes, it was inspired by and is based on articles published here. In the book, though, these topics are greatly expanded and illustrated with photos and musical examples. There is a must-read introduction, several new topics, an appendix of a Pianist's Essential Library and a section called Fifty Teaching Moments, in which I explicate familiar problems in standard teaching pieces. You will be able to thumb through some of its pages at Amazon. Speaking of the thumb, I've added more detailed information about how the thumb "crosses" and included some of my own suggestions for fingering certain passages. The first person to bring to my attention any typos gets a free piano lesson.
Here is the publication blurb: In this volume you will find the distillation of a life in music, a "how to" for the muscian seeking joy in music-making. Here are insights into learning to play using the natural design of the body. Dispel old wives' tales and myths left over from the 18th century. Learn to make accurate leaps, to play fast without feeling hurried. What is practicing and how and why should we memorize music? And how can we put anxiety to good use? What is a good hand position and really, how slowly should I practice? If you've ever felt at a loss as to how to achieve the excellence you would like at the piano, then take a look at this book. Non-pianists will find information on performance anxiety, memorizing and effective practice methods, in addition to concepts on how the body wants to move.
Van Cliburn: An Appreciation
Imagine, if you can, the thrill of a sixteen-year-old piano student hearing that an American pianist had won the first International Tchaikovsky competition, defeating the Russians—the world—on the Russians' home turf and in their own repertoire. The ticker-tape parade, the magazine covers with glowing articles and reviews, the speeches—"now that I've been a sensation, I hope to be a success"—all the hype for this remarkable pianist set fire to my own imagination. Imagine, too, what it was like that summer of 1959 when the announcement came that Cliburn would play at the Hollywood Bowl in my own backyard with Kiril Kondrashin, his Russian conductor from the competition, and the Los Angeles Philharmonic. My mother surprised me with tickets for the concert, which was so unlike her.
When we arrived at the Bowl, the crowds added another level to the excitement—all these people sharing the same thrill of discovery, all of us a part of something important. I hadn't even thought to look up the program details. It turned out to be all Tchaikovsky, including the concerto, which, believe it or not, apart form the opening bars used as the motto for KFAC's Evening Concert on our local classical station, I had never heard.
On the way up the long winding ramp to the entrance gates, my mother and I noticed groups of people gathered in clumps, holding programs, coffees, snacks, gesturing, all chatting excitedly, I imagined, about the event before us. Just then Myrna Loy, Hollywood movie star from the thirties—Nora Charles herself, of the Thin Man movies—walked directly toward us. Asta, the little dog from the films, wasn't with her. I think, looking back, that this was the biggest thrill of the evening for my mother, who was not very interested in music.
I was mesmerized by the music, the performance, the glamour of it all. The concerto thrilled me to the core. The audience become wild at the end, a spectacle I'd never before witnessed, which would have been frightening in other circumstances. For an encore, they played the first movement of the Rachmaninoff third concerto, which I'd also never heard and it left me speechless.
Fast forward now to the mid 1970's, New York City, where I was busily chasing down a career as a collaborative pianist. One of my sopranos, who happened to work in the offices at RCA, invited me to lunch. We would meet at her building. She had a surprise for me. There was Mr. Cliburn, tall, rather elegant looking, and all smiles, putting me instantly at ease. He was at RCA, reportedly, to claim another advance on his recording royalties, which I imagine were considerable. We met, shook hands—his enormous hand enveloped mine completely—and posed for a photo. When I find that photo, I'll post it here. That brief meeting felt like a cap to a particular chapter in my musical development. By that time, of course, I had had many more experiences, heard much more music and many more pianists. But the Cliburn experience was singular for me and I have to say, and I don't think this is just nostalgia speaking, his live Carnegie Hall recordings with Kondrashin from 1958 of the Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff third concertos are still my favorite performances of those works.
I was deeply saddened on hearing of the death of this great musical ambassador.
When we arrived at the Bowl, the crowds added another level to the excitement—all these people sharing the same thrill of discovery, all of us a part of something important. I hadn't even thought to look up the program details. It turned out to be all Tchaikovsky, including the concerto, which, believe it or not, apart form the opening bars used as the motto for KFAC's Evening Concert on our local classical station, I had never heard.
On the way up the long winding ramp to the entrance gates, my mother and I noticed groups of people gathered in clumps, holding programs, coffees, snacks, gesturing, all chatting excitedly, I imagined, about the event before us. Just then Myrna Loy, Hollywood movie star from the thirties—Nora Charles herself, of the Thin Man movies—walked directly toward us. Asta, the little dog from the films, wasn't with her. I think, looking back, that this was the biggest thrill of the evening for my mother, who was not very interested in music.
I was mesmerized by the music, the performance, the glamour of it all. The concerto thrilled me to the core. The audience become wild at the end, a spectacle I'd never before witnessed, which would have been frightening in other circumstances. For an encore, they played the first movement of the Rachmaninoff third concerto, which I'd also never heard and it left me speechless.
Fast forward now to the mid 1970's, New York City, where I was busily chasing down a career as a collaborative pianist. One of my sopranos, who happened to work in the offices at RCA, invited me to lunch. We would meet at her building. She had a surprise for me. There was Mr. Cliburn, tall, rather elegant looking, and all smiles, putting me instantly at ease. He was at RCA, reportedly, to claim another advance on his recording royalties, which I imagine were considerable. We met, shook hands—his enormous hand enveloped mine completely—and posed for a photo. When I find that photo, I'll post it here. That brief meeting felt like a cap to a particular chapter in my musical development. By that time, of course, I had had many more experiences, heard much more music and many more pianists. But the Cliburn experience was singular for me and I have to say, and I don't think this is just nostalgia speaking, his live Carnegie Hall recordings with Kondrashin from 1958 of the Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff third concertos are still my favorite performances of those works.
I was deeply saddened on hearing of the death of this great musical ambassador.
On Learning Music Quickly
A student of accompanying asks for suggestions on learning repertoire quickly.
Accompanying, a specialty usually referred to these days as the collaborative arts, often demands of its practitioners the ability to learn music under pressure. Unlike the specialist in solo repertoire, the collaborative pianist plays everyone’s repertoire, not just a collection of his/her own solos and concertos he has prepared well in advance for a particular concert season. The collaborator must be able to play art songs in many languages—if you’re wondering why language matters, remember that the first step in figuring out an accompaniment is to understand the poem—and identical works in several keys in order to accommodate different voice types, often at short or even no advance notice. Add to this already considerable repertoire occasional pieces and instrumental sonatas, often very technically demanding, and the pianist might well find himself locked in the practice room buried under a mountain of scores, never to be seen again.
Accompanying, a specialty usually referred to these days as the collaborative arts, often demands of its practitioners the ability to learn music under pressure. Unlike the specialist in solo repertoire, the collaborative pianist plays everyone’s repertoire, not just a collection of his/her own solos and concertos he has prepared well in advance for a particular concert season. The collaborator must be able to play art songs in many languages—if you’re wondering why language matters, remember that the first step in figuring out an accompaniment is to understand the poem—and identical works in several keys in order to accommodate different voice types, often at short or even no advance notice. Add to this already considerable repertoire occasional pieces and instrumental sonatas, often very technically demanding, and the pianist might well find himself locked in the practice room buried under a mountain of scores, never to be seen again.
One important attribute of the successful professional
collaborator is the ability to read well at first sight. So, that’s where I’ll
start. In order to improve sight-reading, do it on a daily basis. Elsewhere in
this blog I discuss reading techniques in some detail, but the basics are
these: scan the piece looking for surprises, set a pulse that will accommodate
the fastest passages, always look ahead in the score and not at your hands,
keep going no matter what. I recommend keeping some scores handy that are
technically somewhat easier than you can really play and use these for 10
minutes of reading in every practice session. And/or, set aside a session for
just reading.
Collaborative pianists often live in pigeonholes; they are
either vocal accompanists or instrumental accompanists. There’s no good reason
for this. Instrumental sonatas tend to be technically more challenging, but the
vocal accompanist is called upon, more often than not, to be orchestra,
conductor, scenic designer and vocal coach. I submit to you, gentle reader,
that all of these skills are required for any pianist who hopes to be
considered an artist. This is why I always recommend to my soloist students
that they work with other musicians in order to learn to listen not only to
themselves, but also to the inner workings of the music they play.


Remember, the first encounter is only a rehearsal. You will need to make an impression on your partner, especially if you are meeting for the first time, and you will need to keep up with him in repertoire that he already knows (presumably). But this first meeting is, ideally, an opportunity to work out issues. You can ask to work on sections that bother you, not just be at the beck and call of your partner. Singers very often need to be led, as in arias, and they need help managing breathing, so work this into your own practicing. The placement of the pianist’s beat with singers is on the vowel, a little more sluggish, perhaps, than with a string player who is more likely to be precisely on the beat or a little ahead. This is why we listen. (See the article on raised piano lids for thoughts on balance.)
Do this: 2. Practice focusing on the solo line. If you can
play all of your part and sing the solo line, this is great. If not, play just
your bass line and sing or play the solo line. This is the single most
important skill of the collaborator, I think. That is, to be able to arrive
with the partner, adjusting imperceptibly as necessary, on his beat. A
well-meaning woman once came to me after a concert and gushed that I was such a
fine accompanist, I followed so well. It
was a nice compliment, of course, but I hasten to point out here that a good
accompanist doesn’t follow, he anticipates. In order to anticipate, the pianist must be inside the solo line at
all times.


Orchestra reductions, such as arias or concertos, should be
made to sound orchestral. I know. We only have a piano. But a piano staccato is
sharper and drier than an orchestral staccato. Woodwinds have a different
voice, a sharper more defined attack, perhaps, than strings, which can be more
cushioned. Above all, though, remember that a reduction is just that; it is
someone’s idea of how to realize the orchestra at the piano. Your own thoughts
about sonority might be just as good or better than the one printed. So don’t
be afraid to make changes. And certainly don’t be constrained by arbitrary
technical issues. In arias, where the pianist is orchestra and conductor, he
might lead the entire effort, providing the singer with a secure rhythmic
foundation. Likewise, in some concerto passages and motoric music, the pianist
must just keep a steady beat, without trying to adjust to rubato in the solo
part. This is particularly true after the first movement cadenza in
Mendelssohn’s concerto where the violin plays spiccato arpeggios.
Do this: 4. Look for oceans of similarity. Does the piano
create waves of sound on E flat for measures on end? Look at it and move on.
Ostinato passages can be a lifesaver. Once noticed, they only need repetition. Mark off sections and practice in sections.
Do this: 5. Look for possible ensemble difficulties and make
sure you understand the rhythmic connection of the piano part to the other
part.
In short, take care to be familiar with both parts, how they work together rhythmically and how
they play off one another musically. A well-prepared partner will know the
piano part in addition to his own.
Learning music in a hurry is not ideal but sometimes is necessary, especially when one’s livelihood depends on it. Don’t turn down a
job because you would rather study the music and rehearse for weeks and know
the music inside and out. With determination and thoughtful selective
practicing, a fine performance can result and with more experience, even an
exemplary performance is possible.
Tip: Learn a song per day from anthologies of Schubert, Schumann, Brahms, Strauss, Faure and Duparc and you will eventually have a respectable repertoire of often-programmed music. Add Falla and Poulenc as needed. Leave big instrumental sonatas for ad hoc occasions, though Schubert sonatinas and Mozart violin and piano sonatas make excellent sight-reading material. Do familiarize yourself with the three Brahms violin sonatas (look at technical spots), the Beethoven Spring and possibly Prokofiev D major.
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