One of my pet peeves

 

In my previous post I referred to the term "accidentals." This term is used to refer to notes which are outside the scale in which that the piece (or section of the piece) is written. I don't know how the term "accidental" originated, but it is clearly a misnomer, because they are not accidents.  Any time I hear someone use this term, I just cringe, and cannot resist explaining why it is such a misleading term. It is one of my real pet peeves.

If you are playing in the key of C Major, for example, and encounter an F# (F sharp), people might call that an accidental, because F# does not occur in the key (scale) of C. So what is it doing there? Here are some reasons.

1. The F# may appear because the piece is modulating (moving) to another key, probably the key of G, which does have an F# in its scale. If the piece is going to stay in the new key for a significant amount of time, the composer may write a new key signature for this section; but if it is just "passing through," so to speak, the key signature won't change, and the F# will just be notated as needed. The sudden presence of sharps, flats or natural signs can alert you that the piece is changing keys. Virtually all music will have a key change at some point. The exceptions would be a very short song or a piece written for beginners. A large piece will have several key changes.

2. A chromatic scale would, by definition, need to notate using addition sharps, and/or flats. A chromatic scale is one consisting of all 12 notes within the octave. While our music is not generally based on the chromatic scale (there have been some "experiments" with this), there may be a passage which is chromatic in nature. Not only will the scale be used, but melody and chord patterns which are chromatically-based are common in much of our music. Chopin, for instance, wouldn't be Chopin without it.

3. If you were to see the notes G-F#-G, for example, it could be part of a scale-like passage, but the G, instead of going to F (natural), goes to F#, which is its "chromatic neighbor." The rest of the passage may stay strictly in the scale, but it could start off with a brief "visit" to the chromatic neighbor. Chromatic neighbors would also be frequently used in a trill or mordent. The chromatic tone, as opposed to the scale tone, lends the trill a bit of dissonance, which gives it the intensity that is often the purpose of the trill. Try playing a trill that is marked with the chromatic tone with the scale tone instead, and you'll hear it sounds flat and bland.

4. Secondary dominants. If you are in the key of C, your final chords (of the whole piece and/or a section) will likely be G7 to C. This is because G is the dominant, or V (five) in the key of C. One could call this the "strongest" ending (or cadence). The G7 may be preceded by a D7 chord. The D7 chord contains an F#. The D7 is called a "secondary dominant" chord, in that it is V(five) of V(five), or dominant of the dominant. The F# in this case is not signaling a modulation to another key nor creating dissonance. It is a strong ending, using the secondary dominant to pull us toward the V7 chord, which, in turn, pulls us to the final I(one) chord.

These are just a few examples (there are others), but they represent very distinct reasons for the existence of non-scale tones. Unfortunately, I hear teachers (and their students) just lump these all together as "accidentals," which does nothing to help the student understand the reasons for their being there. The whole subject of tonality (being in a key) and movement between keys is central to all music in the Western world. If you don't understand tonality, you can still enjoy music, but you can't really understand it. Using ambiguous terms such as "accidentals" does nothing to further the student's understanding, and, in fact, creates wrong impressions.

A few years ago I was having this discussion with one of my 12-year-old students. He agreed with me completely and we decided to come up with a better term for non-scale tones, which we would use exclusively. He came up with the term "purposefuls." I think it's just perfect, and I urge you, whenever you see one or must refer to it, to use the term purposeful.

Ear Training

 

If you've been reading this blog, you know that I emphasize the importance of the ear and of training the ear in order to be a good (or great) musician. To some of you, this will be an obvious fact. To others, especially if you are a beginning student of music, you may not understand why. You may say "Don't I just play the notes I see written on the page? What does ear have to do with it?"

Suppose I wanted to become an artist, or, at least, to develop some skill at art. I am instructed to draw a picture of a tree. Clearly, I have been seeing trees all my life, but the best I would be able to come up with is some sort of stick figure of a tree. (I have no talent at art!) If I really want to draw a tree with any degree of realism, I would have to spend many hours really looking at trees, not casually, but with a higher level of attention, in order to see the intricacies of their bark, their branches, their leaves. In other words, I would need to develop my eye. Every great visual artist must have a highly-developed eye, the ability to see details the average person does not.

Likewise, we have all been hearing and listening to music all our lives, but if you ask the average person to sit down at the piano and play Happy Birthday, for example, they cannot do it, and in fact, probably don't have a clue how to even start. It is not an issue of physical skill -- they could try to do it using just one finger -- but it is a lack of ear. As with the tree analogy, they will need to spend many hours listening to music in a whole different way in order to hear what is actually happening. Luckily, with music, you can listen as you play, and play as you listen, so you get automatic and immediate feedback as to whether your ear is getting better at it. 

It is true that it is possible to just learn to read music, learn how to play the notes you see, and achieve some meaningful level of skill. But without developing the ear as well, you will always be limited. The greatest musicians have the greatest ears. The highest levels of mastery only come with the highest level of ear sensitivity. To give one of the clearest examples: people marvel at the fact that Beethoven was able to compose some of his greatest masterpieces while he was deaf. He did not need to hear the music in the physical realm; he heard everything, down to the smallest detail, in his ear.

One way that you will be limited if you neglect developing your ear is in the area of memory. Hundreds of people, from beginning students to those who are quite advanced and even doing performances, have said to me, "I just can't memorize!" That is because they have primarily muscle memory and not ear memory. (See my post on Memory.) You don't forget how to sing Happy Birthday, even if you haven't sung it in months or years, because it is "in you ear." While a piece you play on the piano is light-years more complex than Happy Birthday, the concept still applies. 

Everyone is born with some degree of ear. Some people can play by ear incredibly well at a very young age. At the other end of the spectrum, some people say they are "tone deaf." (I do not believe anyone is truly tone deaf, but their ear can be very weak.) Anyone, no matter what level, can continually work on their ear and make it stronger. (OK, maybe not Beethoven.....)

So how do you train your ear? I will outline three basic ways, for beginners through advanced students.

1. Beginners: I start all my students with playing by ear. (Most teachers start right in with reading from the first lesson, which I strongly disagree with. They probably can't play by ear themselves, so they don't know how to teach it.) You take the simplest of songs, starting with Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and figure it out on the piano. I guide you a bit, if you are struggling, but you still have to do the work yourself. Some people can do it easily, some really have trouble. It doesn't matter; as long as you keep working on it, you will "hear" more than you did before, now that you are listening so intently, as opposed to casually. Then we add chords (more complex and more difficult to hear) and continue on to more and more complex songs. (Basic knowledge of theory will help in your ability to find the correct chords, though the ear is still more important.) In my view, this is the most fun way to train your ear. Why do repetitive drills when you can play actual music? It is a great joy to be able to hear a song, say, on the radio, and just go to the piano and play it, even if it's a simple rendition. Many people just assume they can't do this, but the truth is, they've probably never really tried.

2. Intermediate: If you've ever been in a choir, you know that some people are able to see a line of music notation and sing it right off. (In a professional level choir, everyone would be required to have this skill; in an amateur choir, people might largely learn by rote, that is, just listening and imitating.) This is a high form of ear development. You cannot see your vocal chords nor do you know how to manipulate them to make a given sound. Only your ear can direct them how to contract to sing a given note. When you are a toddler and begin to sing, no one can show you how; the voice and the ear have a direct connection, and the voice sings what the ear has directed. If you want to learn how to "sight-sing," as it is called, you will need to start with interval drills. I write out the scale (a major scale, to start), like this: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. You sing the scale, up and down. Then write out various patterns, such as 1-2-3-4-5-3-1, or 1-3-5-6-4-2-1, and sing them. (Later on you can do this with the minor scale as well.) There would be hundreds of patterns you can do with these eight notes. I use numbers, rather than the old "solfege" system (do, re, mi, etc.) because the numbers make the relationship between the tones very obvious. It is easier to recognize that 3 and 5 are a skip away, but not as easy using "mi" and "so." After some amount of doing these drills, take written music with which you are unfamiliar, and sing the main melody line. A Hymnal is great for this (select the ones you don't already know). You can check yourself, if you think you've gotten off, by playing a note or two on the piano, but you must not play the melody on the piano first -- then you'd just be imitating. Continue, progressing to more and more complex music. Your ear will also need to learn how to hear non-scale notes (so-called "accidentals" -- see my next post for more on this term). It should also be noted that you will need to have learned to read and understand rhythmic notation, which is a subject for another post. Although sight-singing does not address the ability to hear chords, in other words, multiple notes at once, it nevertheless strengthens the ability to hear intervals (relationships), which will help with chords indirectly.

3. Advanced. If your ear is quite good, and even if you have "perfect pitch" (also known as "absolute pitch"), which is considered the highest form of ear development, you can still strengthen your ear through transposing. I happen to have perfect pitch and for years, even during my four years at a conservatory, I was actually told there wasn't much more I needed to do. However, after I finished school and found my REAL teacher, Joseph Prostakoff, I discovered, despite my "good ear," that there were many things I couldn't do. The answer was to transpose. The reason transposing is so powerful is that it makes you hear all the relationships between tones, which is what actually makes the music, not the tones themselves. I take all my pieces and play them in other keys. I force myself to do it as much as possible relying only on the ear (as opposed to calculating by eye using the page). Start with very easy pieces and keep moving on to more challenging ones. Of course it is necessary to go slowly, and it can be quite a struggle at first, but as your ear strengthens, it get easier. I guarantee that, after transposing once or twice, you will know the piece better than if you played it 50 times through in the original key. And, after transposing 10 or more times, you will probably not have any trouble memorizing it.

For Intermediate and Advanced, you can, and should, still continue with playing by ear.

I regard these three methods as the best way to develop your ear. Plus, they are the most rewarding, because you are playing (or singing) actual music. 

It can be tempting to take the easy way out and just play the notes you read from the page and not bother with ear training. But if that's all there were to it, there would be many more good musicians than there really are. Just as the visual artist needs to see subtle shadings of color and texture, the musician needs to hear the complexities and subtleties of tone and rhythm, which goes far beyond just "playing notes." And for that, you need a highly-developed ear. 

Transferring

 

[Note: It is helpful to read the previous post, It's All (Neuro)Logical, before reading this one.]

In my teaching and in my own practicing, I use a concept called "transferring." It simply means that after you do one physical movement, followed by a second one, some aspects of what you did the first time transfer over to the second time. Perhaps this is because the nerve impulses travel along the same neural pathways. Another way of putting it is: "The body wants to do what it just did." Although I am not a brain scientist, I know from my many decades of playing and teaching that this is the case. The second time you execute a physical movement will be very similar to the first time, the third time will be even more similar, and so on. Clearly, this is how "muscle memory" works. 

Muscle memory will happen regardless and it is certainly a good thing this is so; otherwise we'd have to learn how to do a given movement every time. Muscle memory may be acquired more or less quickly in different individuals, but it will happen. Notice how you brush your teeth or comb your hair; you likely do it almost identically every time.

Because the "body wants to do what it just did," it behooves us to be very mindful of what we just did! (Remember that when I say "body" I am really referring to the brain -- largely the motor cortex -- where it all happens, as I describe in my previous post.) If you make a physical movement that is tense, stiff, or awkward, the body is likely to repeat that. Naturally, you are not going to make those awkward movements on purpose, but nevertheless it happens, and now you have the likelihood of it happening again. This is how we develop habits, and we all know how hard habits are to change once they are ingrained. (See my post "Everything you do has the potential to become habit.") Likewise, smooth, fluid movements are also likely to be repeated. You probably think I am stating the obvious here. If we could just change our habits at the piano by just wanting to do so, we'd all be virtuosos by now. But when it comes to things that are physical, it takes more than just the desire to change how our bodies move. To make a change to the physical will require something physical.

If you've been reading this blog, you've heard me say it dozens of times: "fixing" wrong notes as you play doesn't work. This is because the so-called "fix" is interpreted by the brain as part of the process, and will therefore likely be repeated again the next time. If you play the "wrong note/right note" sequence, the brain assumes this was intended and will do it again. Haven't we all had that experience?

Another example is playing with incorrect rhythm. Many beginning (and not-so beginning) piano students often will play a passage "just to learn the notes," but with incorrect rhythm. They assume there is no problem with this. But the brain will pick up the incorrect rhythm and likely do it again. I have seen this over and over again. You can't outsmart your brain, oddly enough. It will want to do "what it just did."

I have discussed how to "fix" wrong notes and other errors in previous posts. But here I want to talk about how we can use this feature of our brains for our benefit. This is where "transferring" comes into play.

Let's say you are playing a fast ascending scale in your right hand. You don't feel it is fast enough, or fluid enough, or legato enough. You can play it over and over, trying to get it better, but it just stays the same, or maybe improves, but just slightly. Try this: play an ascending glissando. Since there is no finger action involved in a glissando, it is all about the smooth sweep of the arm. Play the glissando and then the scale normally immediately after. Does it feel and sound better? It is because the sensation of the sweep of the arm transferred to the scale. The body automatically copied an aspect of the first movement when doing the second movement. Specifically, it triggered the body to use few finger movements and more arm, which is more efficient -- and therefore faster -- and creates more evenness. (This also works for an arpeggio.)  This can be done for either hand and for either direction, of course.

There are even things you can do that don't involve playing the actual keys that will transfer to playing. Suppose you have a very fast leap that spans a large number of notes. You do it over and over but consistently miss. This may be largely due to fear of hitting the target. Let's say the leap is from a high note in the treble, played with your thumb, to a note a few octaves lower, played with the third finger. Play the first note and then, as fast as you can, flip the arm towards your chest and touch your chest with the third finger. There is no fear associated with this since it is a larger target and there is no chance you will miss it. Do this once or twice and then play the actual notes. I can almost guarantee you will have better accuracy and speed because the body transferred the quick fearless movement to the actual notes.

Almost anything can be used as a transfer. If there is some piece you play that you feel you play very well, play a few measures of that piece and then go immediately to something else you are working on that you want to improve. Some aspect of how your body moves will transfer over. I have dozens, if not hundreds, of processes I use as transfers, and am inventing new ones all the time. 

Please understand that these "transfers" do not mean that the next day or the next week the problem you were having will have disappeared. Doing a transfer once is probably not a permanent fix. But consistently applied, they WILL improve your technique and the new ways of using your body will become your new, more desirable, habits. You are using the power of "the body wanting to do what it just did" for your own desired ends, not just what it does automatically.

It's All (Neuro)Logical

 

When people are learning to play an instrument and attempting to learn music and master techniques, they are generally focused on the physical aspects. Pianists are concerned with hands, arms, fingers. It seems like an obvious fact that this is "where things happen." But nothing happens in the physical body without happening in the brain first. 

When beginning piano students complain about how hard it is to play hands together, for example, I remind them that their brains don't yet have what I call the "wiring" for it. It is not a personal failing! The brain is working on developing the wiring to do two different things in the two hands at the same time. But until that wiring is substantial, it will still be difficult. This is true every time you learn a new technique or skill. The brain has to develop all the neurological connections before the hands can execute it. When you've been playing the piano for many years, you basically have the wiring you need to quickly acquire new skills so the whole process is much quicker. 

Of course, the only way to develop the brain wiring is to do the physical work. It will be awkward and perhaps unsuccessful for a while, but you need to be patient. Your brain is saying to you "I'm working on it!" The good news is that once this "wiring" is acquired, it is often permanent.

This is why it is usually advantageous to learn when you are a child. The wiring is acquired more easily when your brain is still in development. It still can be done as an adult, albeit more slowly.

You might think, therefore, that to build this wiring, you should just do as many repetitions of the new technique as possible. I call this the "brute force" method. In fact, this has been the generally accepted view for many years. But the brain is more subtle and, in my experience, does not respond as well to endless repetition as it does to smaller amounts of extremely focused work. There are ways which you can stimulate your brain to work harder and build connections in less time. Here are some examples.

The most powerful tool in my toolbox is transposing. You might be skeptical how this helps with the physical challenges of the piano, but again, it's neurological. When you take a passage in a piece you are working on, or the whole piece, and transpose it to another key, your brain is working overtime to accomplish this. You will undoubtedly go quite slowly when you are new at this, but the challenge for the brain of moving the entire passage to new notes causes it to learn the music more quickly and at a much deeper level because you have just developed new "wiring." Whenever I am having a difficulty in a piece that I think is "technical," I transpose it, and often, voila, it is much improved. Even though transposing is, in itself, a challenge, it is less time-consuming than dozens of repetitions, and more fun. More importantly, you just can't transpose without being 100% focused, and focus is what you want. It is possible to do repetitions with the brain "turned off" or thinking about something else. This will not help develop the wiring as well.

Another incredible tool is playing hands crossed. My students look at me as if I'm crazy when I ask them to do this. Again, you will go slowly, but you play the right's hand's part with the left hand and vice versa. The brain has gotten so accustomed to the normal way that it really has to work hard to do this. You will find you inadvertently keep trying to go back to the original way, but if you keep at it, you will be able to do it. You can almost feel your brain working. Play a passage with hands crossed and then do it normally immediately afterwards; you will feel an immediate difference. Your hands didn't practice a new technique, but your brain has new wiring. 

Playing with eyes closed (once you have a piece memorized, or are playing by ear) is a powerful tool on many levels. Without the ability to look at the keys, the brain is working harder in the auditory and motor cortexes. Do this whenever you can.

Classical musicians rarely improvise, if at all. If you feel that your playing of a particular passage is stiff, un-musical, or just not how you want it to sound, try this: improvise a few phrases with a similar texture as the passage. For example, if it's a melody with chords in the left hand, improvise something like that. If it's polyphonic, do that. Try not to "judge" your improvisation. If you've never done it, you may think it's pretty bad, but it doesn't matter. What we are attempting here is to get the brain to develop new neurological pathways. To make up something on the spot is a real challenge for the brain. After the brief improvisation, immediately play the passage you were working on, and see if it doesn't sound "fresher," more spontaneous. It's because you now have more wiring for that.

There are many other tools I use, but because of their physical or improvisatory nature, they are difficult to fully describe here. Basically, if you are struggling with a particular skill or passage in the music, rather than use the "brute force" method, find of way of doing something similar, but on different notes. Find a similar passage in another piece that you play with ease, and use that as a "transfer." By playing the easier one first and then the more challenging one, the brain has shifted somehow and the passage improves. The skill of "transferring" is a powerful one, and I will discuss this in more detail in a future post.

So when you are practicing, always remember: it's all neurological.

Scales: Part II

 

If you've read my previous post on scales, you'll see that I do not recommend students practice them in the ways that are often prescribed by most teachers of piano. (It is best if you read the previous post before reading this one.)

I also depart from commonly-held beliefs about scale fingering. For hundreds of years (since the beginnings of keyboard instruments), it was believed that the fingering for all scales beginning on a white key is 1-2-3-1-2-3-4-5 (this refers to the ascending scale in the right hand and the descending scale in the left hand), with the exception of F major, which would be 1-2-3-4-1-2-3-4 for the right hand. All scales beginning on a black key start with the second finger. The reason for this, as you probably are aware, is to avoid having the thumb fall on a black key. Presumably, the thumb, being shorter, had a harder time playing the black keys, which is further in (towards the fallboard). However, the are multitudes of situations when you must have thumb on a black key, such as playing chords which have a black key as the lowest note (or highest, for the left hand). The hand must adjust for this, but it is still entirely comfortable and natural for the hand to do this. So why not for scales?

In the Baroque and pre-Baroque era, most music written for keyboard (harpsichord, primarily) were in keys with very few sharps or flats, in other words, very few black keys. One reason for this had to do with how the instrument was tuned. In those times, C-sharp and D-flat, for example, were not tuned the same, even though they are physically the same note on the keyboard. Therefore, if a piece were to be played in a key with sharps, and the following piece had flats, the keyboard would need to be retuned in between. They avoided this by using a limited number of different keys (tonalities). As composers and musicians wanted to have more range of possibilities, this became a significant obstacle, and the idea of "equal temperament" was born. Now C-sharp and D-flat would be tuned the same. Bach celebrated this new normal by writing his two books of "The Well-tempered Clavier," each of which has one prelude and one fugue in every one of the major and minor keys. One could play them all in succession without the need for retuning.

Before the advent of equal temperament, since most of the keys used for compositions were on primarily white keys, the idea of the traditional scale fingering seemed to make sense; there weren't many situations where you'd need anything else. (Look at the complete list of Scarlatti sonatas; about 80% are in keys using fewer than one sharp or flat,  about 10% use two, and about 10% use three or four.) And although the pieces written for keyboard were not without technical challenges, they did not require the lightning speed and acrobatics of later music, such as Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt and Brahms. There are many places in the compositions of these composers (and many others) where one needs more tools in their toolbox, so to speak, than just the traditional scale fingering.

The traditional fingering involves what is known as "thumb under," where you pass the thumb under the hand in order to move it to the next hand placement. Every early student of the piano is taught this technique. The goal of this is that there is a smooth (legato) connection. However, when done badly, there can be a "clunk" when the thumb plays. Even when the technique is done well, it is inefficient for extremely fast scales. In addition, there is the possibility of injury. I have met people who injured their thumb joints from too much scale work using the thumb-under method.

It is known that Chopin, and possibly Liszt as well, taught a method they called "thumb over." It is, of course, not possible to pass your thumb over your hand. Many people have tried to figure out what Chopin meant by this. If you do an internet search on this you will find quite a few explanations of what people believe Chopin meant. Some of these are truly bizarre and most are just not really do-able.

The approach I use for scales (and arpeggios), and what I believe Chopin meant, is a very quick "flick" of the arm to the new hand position. I do not pass the thumb under but instead quickly flip the hand to the new place. Like any technique, it needs to be worked at until you master it. But for fast scales, it is the quickest, most efficient, and has the least possibility for strain or injury.  Because you are using the arm (and wrist), you can "flick" to any key, white or black. It is equally easy for both situations. Therefore, I can play any scale that starts on a black key with the same fingering I would use for a white key, with equal ease, speed, and legato. Or I can use 1-2-3-4-5 and then flick, whereas you could never really pass your thumb under the pinky. Depending on the particular scale passage in the piece, I can used the traditional fingering (which still works the best in some situations), or something different. 

I would like to mention that many jazz pianists, who did not have classical training, often employ non-traditional fingerings, and they have lightning speed and agility. This is proof there is always more than one way to do things. We all have hands of different sizes and, to a degree, shapes. Different methods work for different people.

I once had a student whose previous teacher, and older man, once had a melt-down and tore up her music in a rage right in the middle of her lesson when she dared to use a scale fingering other than the traditional. This is absurd (and borderline criminal?). 

If you've been reading this blog from the beginning, you know that I diverge from most traditional beliefs about piano technique and interpretation. Scales are no exception. If you are a student of the piano, make sure you find a teacher who is knowledgeable about, or at least open to, many approaches.

Scales

 

Just about everyone who has ever heard anything about learning to play the piano has heard about scales. The quintessential image of the young piano student is of her dutifully practicing her scales. For hundreds of years, scales have been a mainstay of piano pedagogy. For the beginner, scales are routinely given as an "exercise" and often comprise a substantial part of the early piano education.

But, as with so many things, it is high time to question old beliefs and assumptions. Are scales necessary to acquire good technique at the piano? If so, how much, and in what way should they be practiced?

Yes, it is necessary to learn to play a scale passage smoothly, efficiently, and, eventually, with speed. The aspect that people hardly ever mention, however, is that it should also be musical.

Scales, however, are just one piece of piano technique. There are also chords (well over a hundred different chords), both blocked and arpeggiated; there are octaves, trills, and many more. If you intend to play mostly the music of Mozart and Haydn, for example, you will encounter many scale-type passages, and so it would make sense to practice scales. If you also intend to play Chopin, Brahms, Schumann, Rachmaninoff and others, you will encounter technical challenges that go far beyond scales. Chopin wrote two sets of etudes which are intended to expose you to many of the technical challenges of his compositions. They are also beautiful pieces which in no way just sound like exercises. Although the beginning student is light years away from playing Chopin Etudes, the concept of learning technique by playing beautiful music is one that I completely embrace and advocate.

If you are spending a large amount of time on scales and not much on other aspects of technique, you will be limited in what music you can eventually play. More importantly, if the teacher insists the student spend hours upon hours just on scales, that student will likely grow to hate it and eventually quit.

For the new beginner, I give some scale work, but not in the traditional way. I have them play scales using both hands, but just four fingers in each hand, omitting the thumb: do-re-mi-fa with the left hand, and sol-la-ti-do with the right hand. This method will work for every scale and there is no need to learn complicated fingering for the various scales. I want them to play all twelve major scales (over the course of a few weeks), largely using the ear, so this doubles as ear-training. However, I also show them the pattern of the major scale, with half steps occurring between mi-fa and ti-do, all others being whole steps. This way, if they have trouble doing it solely by ear, they have the "formula" to find the notes for each scale. With this method, they begin to become familiar with all the scales upon which the pieces they play will be based. (We also do minor scales this way a little later on.) In my opinion, having a beginner learn to play scales the traditional way is actually far too complex, and their technique will likely be very jerky and un-musical. In addition -- I can't stress this enough -- they should not be using a book to learn scales, where they are just reading notes and fingering. If you take away the book, they may not be able to play them. It is essential that the student internalize the knowledge of the scales, over time, of course, because this will also be internalizing the understanding of tonality, upon which our music is built. This is how they begin to learn music theory in an applied way. Scale work comprises maybe 5% of their practice time. The bulk of their time should be spent playing actual music, either by ear or reading.

Another significant problem with scale work as it is traditionally given is that it stresses "finger technique." I talk about this in previous posts. Although it was (and, unfortunately still is, to a great degree) believed that technique is all about the fingers, this is simply not true. A brilliant technique incorporates and integrates the arm, hand, and fingers. When music is played solely with a finger-based technique, it WILL sound stiff and mechanical. Sadly, this is how many people are taught. If you spend hours and hours practicing scales with this type of technique, you are really learning to play un-musically. You can't think that somehow when you encounter a scale-type passage in, say, Mozart, you will flip a switch and play musically.

The traditional approach to playing scales in another example of using old, outmoded ideas. Please see my post titled "Are you using 300-year-old ideas?" 

If you are someone who spends a great deal of time on scales and wonders why you aren't achieving the results you desire, I hope this will help.

Improvising

 

Many people may assume that improvising applies only to jazz and popular music. They do not necessarily see it in the context of classical music. Therefore, people who are studying mainly classical music do not see the need to learn to improvise.

In the Classical era, that is, during the times of Haydn, Mozart, Schubert and Beethoven, it was customary that the performer (often the composer himself) would improvise the cadenza of a concerto. This was a free-form section towards the end of the first movement of a concert (e.g. piano and orchestra) where the soloist had a chance to show off by improvising a dazzling display of their technique and musical skills. (Nowadays almost all soloists play cadenzas written out by the composer.) Composers such as Beethoven, Chopin and Liszt were known to be fabulous improvisors. It's such a shame we have no record of any of it. After that, the idea of improvisation within classical music began to die out.

If you are studying jazz you will no doubt want and need to learn to improvise. Most people who play primarily improv love it and couldn't imagine doing it any other way. There is a great feeling to just "making stuff up on the spot." 

People who play classical music can also find the joy of improvising. Even if you never intend to improvise the cadenza of a concerto, you can become proficient enough in improvising to enjoy doing it with other musicians, or just on your own. In addition, it can become a wonderful tool which will affect your playing in positive ways.

Students of the piano (and, I assume, other instruments) become obsessed with playing the "right notes." The prospect of playing wrong notes often paralyzes them, making the learning stiff and joyless. Jazz players don't regard any notes as "wrong" but rather incorporate the "unintended" note into their riff and the listener would have no idea whatsoever that it was unintended. (I recommend replacing the term "wrong" with "unintended" across the board -- it's much less judgmental.) That's what improvising is all about. The ability to do this gives you the confidence that you can get through any situation. 

Of course if you are performing a classical piece in front of an audience, you are going to do your utmost to play the right notes. But what if you have a minor slip, or worse, a memory lapse? Are you going to just stop and start over? That would be hugely embarrassing. If you know the piece well enough (I address this in other posts), you can learn to improvise for a measure or two and continue. Most average listeners might never even know you had the slip. In order to do this successfully, you must practice this skill. Ironically, just knowing you can do this will decrease the likelihood of major memory slips, because you will be less anxious when you play by memory.

For my beginning students, I have them do some improvising very early on. First they just play single line melodies in the treble while I play a bass part with them. I give them a few general guidelines but mostly they are just free to explore. The main goal is that when they hear a note that sounds "bad" (i.e. dissonant against what I am playing) they learn to use it as part of their theme. If you think about it, a note that sounds dissonant is always one note away (either half step or whole step) from one that will sounds consonant, so you can resolve the dissonant note into the consonant one as if you intended it that way. Then, after they have learned basic chords such as I, IV, and V, they can improvise the right hand part while playing the chords in the left hand. (They will start with the Key of C but then move on to do the same thing in other keys. Being able to improvise in any key is critical.) Later they will proceed to use more chords and more complicated chords. The rest of the process is too long to explain here, but I think you get the idea. Then, when they are playing their classical pieces and something starts to go awry, I say "make it up." I do mean literally just play what you can, without stopping and trying to "correct" the notes, until you get back on track. Obviously, you will need to go back afterwards, determine what caused your problem, and work on it. But stopping and trying to fix in the moment actually teaches you nothing. Improvising your way through the problem, on the other hand, will give you extremely useful skills. 

Some people, despite loving playing the piano, have a hard time getting themselves to sit down and do what is often the hard work of practicing. For those people I suggest they sit down and just improvise for a little while, with the only goal being to have fun. After this "warm-up" they will hopefully feel the desire to continue with their practicing.

If you have never improvised before, I hope you will give it a try. There are books which help walk you through the process, but very few of them start with the absolute basics for a true beginner. Try to just "noodle around," as I call it, on your own. If you find you really enjoy it and want to do more, you can try to find a teacher who can help you.