Reading About Piano Technique: Where to Start?

     A pianist in France wrote asking for suggestions on which of my books to read first. I was of course flattered that she had some interest. It occurred to me that others may have similar questions, now that I've exceeded my original plan and flooded the canon of rhetoric on piano study. Lest I be accused of deliberate obfuscation, I wish to register here that my intentions are in fact to illuminate.

     In order to learn about a natural, effortless way to play the piano from my point of view, you might find Piano Technique Demystified: Insights Into Problem Solving useful. If that seems compelling, then the new book, Mystified No More: Further Insights Into Piano Technique, would be a logical continuation. If you want to put into practice some of the ideas,

particularly that of practicing technique in repertoire instead of using exercises, then you could have a look at The Pianist's Guide to Practical Technique and The Pianist's Guide to Practical Scales and Arpeggios. And for those readers with a shorter attention span, I have a new feature article in the January/February issue of American Music Teacher titled "Practicing the Piano."

Chopin Etudes: Arpeggios in the First and Last

Carl Czerny

Chopin

     A reader in Norway wrote with kind words about my new book, Mystified No More. He seemed particularly interested in my contention that it is more efficient to solve technical problems in repertoire than by using prefabricated exercises, practicing X in order to play Y.  Playing devil's advocate, he offered a quote by the distinguished Russian pedagogue Heinrich Neuhaus, mentor to Sviatislov Richter, Radu Lupu and others with major careers in the 20th century. 

Heinrich Neuhaus, the Russian
School

Neuhaus writes in The Art of Piano Playing, "One should not forget that, having begun the study of arpeggios...with the Czerny étude from the School of Velocity or the Art of Finger Dexterity, it [the study of arpeggios] should be completed with Chopin's Etudes Op. 10, No 1 or Op. 25, No. 12." Neuhaus seems to feel that practicing X will provide a path to Y. Keep in mind that the Chopin Études are concert pieces and not meant to be pedagogy, at least no more than any other technical passage in a piece of music—meaning that we learn from everything we play.

Czerny School of Velocity No. 3

Czerny Art of Finger Dexterity No. 2

     The arpeggiated figures in Chopin's first and last études are indeed related to the Czerny examples, related in the sense that they are arpeggios. The techniques, though, are quite different, so why not practice them in the actual pieces? In the C major étude, notice that the expanse covers a tenth. So, the first issue to consider is how to avoid feeling too open:

Chopin Étude Op. 10, No. 1

Simply put, take the thumb along. This is accomplished by means of a walking hand, thumb to second finger as indicated by the bracket above. Shape slightly in for four and five by raising the forearm slightly, giving security and "strength" to those fingers (indicated by arrows). One way to practice this feeling of being "closed" is to regroup the sixteenths, feeling a start on the second finger:

Re-grouping

Incidentally, look for more agreeable fingerings later on. For example, in measure thirty-one I use the following:

Fingering

     The C minor étude is more about the repeated note than the arpeggio. Use forearm rotation from five to one in the right hand and one to five in the left in order to move to each new octave position as indicated by the dotted arrows:

Chopin Étude Op. 25, No. 12

The arpeggio, then, is shaped slightly under in the right hand when ascending and over on the descent. The left hand is just the opposite. 

     Well, then, since I don't agree with Neuhaus on a pathway to music by means of Czerny studies, I ask myself what as a matter of policy do I recommend? Virtually any arpeggiated passage in the repertoire, I tell myself, that teaches the finger/hand/arm alliance what it feels like to shape. The final movement of Beethoven's Sonata Op. 27, No. 2, "Moonlight," comes immediately to mind, as do the C major concerto and the Sonata Op. 2, No. 3. Many examples abound if you want to prepare yourself for Chopin, but don't yet feel ready. Look into The Pianist's Guide to Practical Scales and Arpeggios or The Pianist's Guide to Practical Technique for more ideas. Don't waste time on exercises for which you have no particular use. Don't practice X in order to play Y. 

They Left Us Too Soon

Lipatti at his final concert

Dino Lipatti was one of the greats who didn't get a fair shake. You can hear his last public performance of Mozart K. 310, September 16, 1950, here: Lipatti's final performance, a concert he was unable to finish. He was 33. If you want to read more about that event, go HERE.
I grew up on his recording of the Grieg concerto, a definitive performance still.

William Kapell

     William Kapell, killed in a plane crash at the age of 31 while on tour, was near the start of one of the most brilliant careers ever. He was compared to Horowitz. His recording of the Khachaturian concerto is still a benchmark. Here he is playing Mephisto Waltz.

Google Account

Dear Readers,

     I just received this notice from the folks who provide the mechanics of this blog:

     

We encourage you to tell affected readers (perhaps via a blog post), that if they use a non-Google Account to follow your blog, they need to sign up for a Google Account, and re-follow your blog. With a Google Account, they’ll get blogs added to their Reading List, making it easier for them to see the latest posts and activity of the blogs they follow.

   We bloggers are assured that this will enhance the experience for everyone. I hope so.

Scales on the Piano: Do I Have To?

A student writes:

   

"I am reading your excellent book at the moment. I like this idea [of practicing technique in the music]. I mostly play Bach and I would love to practice specific technical skills by practicing specific Bach pieces. Unfortunately, no one has yet written a book covering all relevant technical exercises, in [progressive] order, using only Bach.

      Anyway, my question is then: Does your idea go for scales as well? Should I never practice scales?"

My answer:

       The simple answer to your question is no, you don't have to practice scales, but you do have to know them. As you rightly point out, scales and arpeggios are the building blocks of music, and the techniques—particularly the thumb crossings—are quite similar. So, as a matter of keyboard harmony and understanding the topography of the keyboard, it is important to be able to play fluently all scales in major and melodic minor keys for at least two octaves. I don't stress the practicing of arpeggios particularly because there are different fingering possibilities—better to practice these in the music itself. The purpose of learning scales is for the thumb crossings and the hand coordinations to become automatic. Drilling scales on a daily basis (once learned) for developing "strength" or "independence" is in my view not a good use of time.

   My new book, Mystified No More, Further Insights Into Piano Technique includes a chapter on increasing speed in scales and arpeggios, including video demos on how to do this. Suddenly I feel like a book salesman (well, he did ask), but I also have two other books, The Pianist's Guide to Practical Scales and Arpeggios, which is a collection of scales and arpeggios as they appear in repertoire. It includes quite a number Bach works. You can look through the index at Amazon.com. The other book is called The Pianist's Guide to Practical Technique, a collection of graded excepts from the repertoire. There is also a scale routine outlined—octaves, sixths and tenths—for those who want to organize a scale routine. However, as I said before, I don't think it's necessary to practice scales routinely once they are securely learned.

     Side note: The chief challenge in Bach is coordinating the counterpoint, the vertical-ness of the lines—feeling the points where the hands play together.

Brahms Op. 118, No. 2: On Voicing at the Piano

   

Brahms at about the time of Opus 118

A student brought in this wonderful and ever so popular intermezzo from Brahms' opus 118. There is much to consider here in the way of voicing—by which I mean featuring the essence of a particular line—but my student missed completely the structure of the passage at  piú lento.

Brahms Intermezzo Op 118, No. 2
(Double click image to enlarge.)

   It's one thing to think in terms of featuring the soprano line, located as it so often is in the fifth finger. (There are those of us who ponder whether God actually meant us to play the piano, having put all of those luscious melody notes in that tiny appendage.) If we always feature the soprano, we would probably be more often correct than incorrect. However, in this case there is more going on that met my student's eye. Do you see the canon with the tenor voice in the left-hand thumb? 

Brahms Intermezzo Op. 118, No. 2 Canon
(Double click image to enlarge.)

     Our job as pianist's—as musicians—is to first show what's there and then what's different. This passage functions as a transition to the return of the "A" material. But isn't it more than just a transition? Using the material of the previous eight bars, a section of subtle anxiety, Brahms takes us—now in F-sharp-major—to church and a moment of refuge before the greater storm emerges. What could be more liturgical than counterpoint? In this case, showing the canon gives us more than a singable hymn, and takes us not only to church but references an ancient time.

The chiroplast, a hand stretching apparatus
similar to the one Robert Schumann may
 have used, causing irrevocable injury.

    As a matter of technique, though, do not suddenly become an organist. The poor organist doesn't have the advantage of a damper pedal, which more often than not results in a lot of stretching and pulling in an effort to sustain these chords. True, this is hymn-like, but I rather imagine a brass choir playing somewhere off the nave.