Scales and Arpeggios: The Building Blocks of Music and Technique

Here is an excerpt from the introduction to my soon-to-be-published book, The Pianist's guide to Practical Scales and Arpeggios: As They Occur in Pieces you Want to Play:   

            One sunny afternoon, just as my weekly piano class drew to a close and I was racing to my studio, one of my colleagues from the local music community confronted me. We stood in the lobby of the recital hall at the university where I had just begun my tenure, I with one hand on the door. “Is it true?” she spouted, her face a puzzle of surprise and indignation. “You don’t believe in scales?”

      The way she framed her question with the word believe struck me as particularly telling. I had, in her view, committed a sacrilege. Apparently, word had spread in the piano community that I, a blasphemer, preached against the gospel and she would have none of it.

      I did not think of myself as a blasphemer. Not then and not now. I am a realist, an advocate of practical use of time and energy and my advocacy is based on knowledge and experience. But her indignation gave me pause and I knew immediately what had pressed her buttons.   

    At the first lessons with my students I quizzed them on scales and arpeggios. Did they know all the keys? Could they play all of the major and melodic minor scales hands together fluently at a moderate tempo for at least two octaves? (Notice I don’t include the harmonic minor, as it is for all practical purposes what its name implies, a function of harmony and not particularly useful as we careen horizontally up and down the keyboard.) I carefully observed their use of the thumb, which in many cases was not well understood, so that became a separate technical issue. Then I blasphemed. If the scales and arpeggios were fluent, I would not require daily drilling and I certainly did not want to hear them. The life of a college piano student, complex and time-challenged as it is, should not be encumbered with useless ritual. Yes, useless, time-wasting ritual.

But, Really, Are Scales and Arpeggios Necessary?

     Well, yes and no. We need to understand the topography of the keyboard and elementary keyboard harmony in order to navigate the keyboard’s shoals and depths. Since we propel our hands laterally up and down the keyboard by means of certain navigational tools, of which the thumb is one, how when and where to activate the thumb has always been and remains a primary issue. So a clear feel for the relationships of white to black keys and the appropriate digits for depressing them is essential. Learn the patterns.

     But do we really need to drill these learned patterns on a daily basis as, for example, in a technical exercise? Once learned and worked-in to the point of being automatic, it is no longer necessary or even desirable to repeat them in their root positions for the purpose of gaining finger “strength” or “agility” or “independence.”  Rarely do scales and arpeggios occur in music the way we learn them in books, that is, until now in this book.

     When is a scale not a scale? Scales and Arpeggios serve various purposes in the music we play. They can provide melodic interest, connective tissue, embellishment or an element of brilliance for its own sake. Our job as pianists is to notice this and organize our thinking accordingly. Here is a perfectly innocent G major scale minding its own business:

Innocent G major Scale

Now add some rhythm and the innocent G major scale becomes a melody on its way somewhere:

Melody in G major

Add some harmony and perhaps a touch of harp and we have a ballet by Tchaikovsky:

Nutcracker Ballet by Tchaikovsky

Does the G major scale in our scale book prepare us for this? No, and even a standard scale fingering is useless here.

        But, I hear you say, this is not really what we mean when we talk about practicing scales. True. The above example from Tchaikovsky’s ballet is a technical issue of another kind. I offer it here in order to stretch the imagination, in order to plant the notion that when we encounter a scale or an arpeggio in a piece of music, we should be prepared to first notice that it is a scale or arpeggio, or part thereof, and consider it on its own terms. Does the standard fingering work here? How can we efficiently negotiate its twists and turns? I promise you the scale in your piece will not proceed innocently from G to shining G with a prescribed fingering and no detours. At least, not very often.

Guided Sight-Reading Practice: Partners Proceed with Caution

     My husband and wife students came for their lessons the other day. One is considerably more advanced than the other, but both expressed interest in working on sight-reading. They brought with them my book, Guided Sight-Reading Practice at the Piano. (No, I don't make my students buy my books.) This collection of teacher-student duets takes the position that practicing with a partner can be helpful, a conclusion I arrived at for several reasons. Chances are that when playing with someone else, particularly someone with more experience, there will be more pressure to continue, without hesitating at problem spots. This automatically eliminates one of the chief impediments to reading. Also, a partner provides a steady pulse. And of course, it's always fun to make music together.

     Well, almost always. In the midst of working through one of the examples, the Mrs. pointed out that they had had some disagreement over the process and apparently feelings were hurt—ever so slightly, she said with a smile. They suggested I might include on the cover a warning to married couples and significant others.

      It was a joke. But this brought up a discussion of how to behave in ensemble rehearsals, the gist of which was that respectful dialog is always appropriate. I learned years ago that it's usually better in situations of musical disagreement—perhaps any disagreement—to resist beginning a sentence with the word you. So, couples, be forewarned.

Waldstein Sonata: Where do the Little Notes Go?

     

Beethoven in 1803

     A student writes complaining of difficulty executing leaping appoggiaturas in the Waldstein Sonata (1803-04), measures 271-273 in the first movement. Remember, I said, the small notes, nuisance as they can sometimes be, become much less so when given a place in time. This concept goes for all ornaments indicated by symbols.

     Here is the passage as printed:

Waldstein Sonata, mm 271-273 as printed.
Click on image to enlarge.

Notice that the small notes are in fact printed as appoggiaturas, not

Count Ferdinand Waldstein

grace notes. So, the conscientious performer would logically ask, should it follow the rule and be placed on the beat? Try it. This creates a small but unruly bump in the forward momentum. Now look at the suspension in the right hand. The appoggiatura is indeed the bass note of the chord to which the suspension resolves, albeit delayed by one note. 

    What to do? Go with the momentum. In speed, the appoggiatura will not register as a beat anyway, so it becomes a de facto grace note to which is given a place in time. If we remember our theory, this is a so-called faux bourdon progression. Here's how most pianists play this passage:

Waldstein Sonata, mm 271-273 as played.
Click on image to enlarge.

Piano Technique Demystified, The Book

Some readers have asked about the video demonstrations (iDemos) for Piano Technique Demystified: Insights into Problem Solving, 2nd Edition. They are now located in the tabs at the top of this page at the right.

New technology—new to me technology—gave rise to the inspiration to invest the time and energy into revising "Technique Demystified." It now has more information on fingering and expansions in other chapters. It also has a new chapter on geography for pianists, links to iDemos and a nifty index. The technology made it possible to clarify and unify musical examples throughout, but I think the changes are particularly effective in the teaching moments section. When you get a

chance, have a "look inside" at the second edition of Piano Technique Demystified at Amazon.  I'd be glad to know what you think.

Forearm Angle: What About the Elbow?

     

Berlin, Germany

From a correspondent in Berlin, one of my favorite cities: "How do you recommend the angle of the arm should be (specially on high tones)? Should the elbow be close to the body or perpendicular to the keyboard, (meaning the elbow is held away from the body)?

     

The elbow can act as a hinge.

My response: The fingers/hand/forearm alliance can be at any angle with the piano as long as it is straight with itself. The elbow shouldn't feel as if it's being held either against the torso or away from it. Holding implies extra tension, an unnecessary effort.

     Find the position by dropping your arm straight down your side, lift up the forearm to the playing position and that should be a good location for the elbow. It hangs from the shoulder. This is not to say that it can't move outward, but take care not to involve the upper arm (bicep) excessively, as that is a slow movement. Imagine that the elbow is a hinge

from which your forearm can swing from side to side, describing an arc. (Remember the circular piano keyboard?) If necessary, lean with the torso to the right.

Art of the Fugue

Some of my readers have inquired

about  the sight-reading book, Art

of the Fugue. Yes, it is available now

at Amazon and it is designed for the

late intermediate to advanced pianist

interested in advancing sight-reading.

Available Now

Improve your sight-reading by practicing it with a partner, a partner who helps keep the pulse moving. Of course, we learn to keep our eyes on the page and always look ahead. We know to scan for surprises of meter, accidentals or key change. We know, too, that setting reasonable tempos based on the fastest note values ensures a successful performance. But in the final analysis, we must learn not to stop for mistakes, the wayward flat, a dangling mordent or what-in-the-world-kind-of-scale was that anyway. It would be rude to abandon a partner in search of the aforementioned, so it is the duty of each to keep the other on track. Designed for partners of equal skill, this volume includes all 14 fugues and four canons in Bach's original work, the one he was working on at the time of his death. Only number 17 is omitted, as it requires two keyboards. I have also included solo versions of some of the two-part canons to be enjoyed while waiting for the partner to arrive.

ABOUT THE MUSIC

     

     

J.S. Bach

 In order to improve sight-reading skills, I often suggest to students that they keep some scores on their piano that are several levels below what they can actually manage technically. One excellent resource is the church hymnal. These mostly homophonic melodies, some familiar, can usually be managed at sight if we find the right tempos. The absence of counterpoint makes this material more readily sight-readable. For the more advanced pianist, however, pieces with the added challenge of contrapuntal textures can be a way to advance reading skills and stimulate musical sensibilities.       

Art of the Fugue Subject

       Which brings me to J.S. Bach’s The Art of the Fugue. Begun in the 1740s and  left unfinished at his death in 1750, in The Art of the Fugue Bach once again has the last word on a given subject. His apparent intent was to explore as many contrapuntal techniques as possible using a particular theme, a summation, really, of his life’s work. Incomplete though it is, the master accumulated here fourteen fugues and 4 canons on some variation of his theme, infusing each in succession with ever increasing complexity. Some authorities argue that this collection was meant as a compositional study guide, not intended as performance material. In this context I offer up the solo cello suites as evidence to the contrary. Until the cello suites fell into the hands of the legendary Pablo Casals, they, too, were considered only exercises. All of these fugues were written in open score with no indication of instrumentation, except for number 17, which bears the note “fugue for two keyboards.”  (I omit this two-keyboard fugue.) Nevertheless, they can be managed quite nicely on a keyboard, or in various instrumental ensembles which, according to the distinguished pianist and musicologist Charles Rosen, was the intent.

         To the best of my knowledge, The Art of the Fugue has never before been transcribed for piano duet. Difficult to play with two hands, with four they make excellent and enjoyable fodder for sight-reading, albeit with some challenges. I have tried to maintain Bach’s voice-leading as much as possible, though it seemed prudent to relocate voices in cases where collision would be unavoidable, particularly between tenor and alto voices when present in the right hand of secondo and left hand of primo. Incidentally, if you are new to duet playing, be considerate of your partner by getting out of the way as soon as possible. You will notice occasional crossing of voices when they can be negotiated by one player. 

     

Should we imitate the harpsichord?

 Articulation can be a matter of some contention among performers, particularly among keyboard players who feel—and those who don’t—that virtually every note should be played detached in imitation of the harpsichord. We have evidence in Bach’s own hand that he favored a cantabile style of playing, which he declares in the introduction to the “Inventions and Sinfonias” as follows: One of the purposes of these pieces [the Inventions] is to “above all develop a cantabile style of playing (am allermeisten aber eine cantabile Art im Spielen zu erlangen).” Since these fugues and canons were offered in open score, it seems reasonable to imagine they might be played by strings or winds, which could imply a different style of articulation than that of a harpsichord. So, my advice is to think musically in a global sense. 

     My metronome and dynamic indications are only guides and not to be taken too literally. Remember, when sight-reading the right tempo is the one that allows continuity. You will find in my version the addition of solo incarnations of some of the canons, which may be enjoyed while waiting for a partner to arrive. Also, I have separated the rectus and inversus from the open score so that they can be played individually as intended.