Does Every Good Boy Do Fine, actually?

 

Most of you will probably recognize the phrase in the title of this post. Someone came up with it decades, if not centuries, ago, as a way to learn the notes on lines in the treble clef. "All cows eat grass" was the phrase for the spaces in the bass clef. Theortically, if you know these, every other note would just be one note away from one of these. But in reality, if you see the note at the space above all the lines in the treble clef, you might have to say "every good boy does fine" to find the F on the top line, so you can find the G on the space above it. That would be too slow for real-time playing. Instead, you'd want to just know that top line is F, for example, rather than having to repeat the whole phrase to yourself. (See below for how to do this.)

But the main problem with this method is that it focuses on the absolute note names instead of the intervals, or distances, between them. Navigating by interval is the ONLY way to become proficient at sight reading. Even if you think you learned the E-G-B-D-F method (which you may very well have), your mind eventually figured out the distances between notes and switched to reading by interval.

Another problem with the E-G-B-D-F method is that it is hopeless for reading in ledger lines, the notes that are written above or below the clefs. Almost all of my students who came from other teachers still have trouble reading in the ledger lines, and have to count the notes up (or down) to the one they see, and then they often resort to writing the note name in the score so they won't have to keep counting up to it. If you are playing -- or want to play -- advanced pieces, there will be many notes on ledger lines, so it's imperative that this be just as easy as reading the notes which fall on the staff.

However great reading by interval is, sometimes you need to find a note by its absolute name, such as the first note of the piece. For this purpose I have a set of "landmarks," which are all the Cs, Fs and Gs on each clef. (Middle C is the same for both clefs.) In the treble clef there is middle C, written on a ledger line, then G on the second line (indicated by the "curl" of the treble clef symbol"), then C on the third space up, and F on the top line. In the bass clef you have middle C, then F on the second line going downwards (indicated by the two dots around that line in the clef symbol), the C on the third space down, and lastly G on the lowest line. Looking at it as a mirror image, the Cs correspond, the Fs and Gs flip. This way you are never more than two notes away from any other note, and the same system works for both clefs. With the every-good-boy-does-fine and all-cows-eat-grass, you have different systems for each clef, and they do not match up well (one is on lines, the other on spaces). 

Of course, after a period of playing, these landmarks will become internalized, and in fact, so will all the notes on the staff. You won't have to think about their names at all. And that is the point. Don't think about note names. See my post titled Sight Reading from March 2015 for a fuller discussion of these concepts.

This is Madness

 

I recently saw an article in the magazine Piano Street regarding a new device, basically a robotic hand, which, when attached to the hand, is touted as being able to increase the speed at which the pianist plays. 

Here is the link:

When Practice Stagnates: Robotic Training for Pianists

As you see, the device fits on the hand and the makes the fingers move rapidly. The hand isn't really doing the work, it is just passive. The article shows a pianist before and after using the device, and demonstrates that there is an increase in speed even after the device is removed.

Wow, there is so much that is wrong about this.

First, the device only deals with the fingers. As you've read in this blog, I don't subscribe to the common misconception that piano technique is all about the fingers. It is more about the integration of the arm, hand and fingers (and even the torso). The example shown in the video is a pianist playing "double thirds" (a slow trill on two notes) which essentially stays in one place. This, however, is not real life. All challenging music for the piano will require you to movie up and down the keyboard. Chopin's "double thirds" etude (Opus 25 #6) starts this way but then proceeds to move up and down the piano in scales and other patterns in thirds, which obviously must include the arm. ("The hand isn't going anywhere the arm doesn't take it.")

Second, the article admits that, even though the hand is passive, there is still the possibility of injury with the device. You don't say! Over-use of the small muscles is the main cause of injury and strain for pianists. The author of the original article states: "I'm a pianist, but I injured my hand because of overpracticing. I was suffering from this dilemma, between overpracticing and the prevention of injury, so then I thought, I have to think about some way to improve my skills without practicing." Instead of questioning his whole approach to technique he just looked for a workaround, a way for something else to do the work for him. Learning to use the larger muscles of the arm and less reliance on the fingers would have prevented his injury. The late pianist Leon Fleisher developed dystonia in his hands and had to stop playing altogether. After many attempts to cure it (which didn't work), he discovered he could play if he stuck to pieces that weren't so "finger-y," that is, pieces with big chords, for example, which used more of the arm. As it turns out, dystonia is a "scrambling" in the brain from over-use of the fingers, and not a physical problem with the hand at all. To me, that indicates you could have the same problem even if the robot is causing the movements. It's still affecting the brain.

Third, the playing in the article's video sounds.... well... robotic. Of course it does! The device would not allow for any nuance in the playing. If you've been reading this blog, you know I really reject the idea of practicing without musicality and then hoping you can flick a switch and play musically when you want to. Listen to a great pianist play the Chopin Double Thirds Etude and you'll hear there is a lot of nuance, and can, and should, be played very musically. To play musically, you have to practice playing musically.

One valuable thing that this experiment with the robotic device demonstrates is the power of the brain in everything related to piano technique. The article states: Surprisingly, the untrained hand also showed improved performancee, demonstrating an inter-manual transfer effect. So, in other words, it was something that happened in the brain which caused the other hand -- the one not trained with the device -- to improve as well. Wouldn't it be better to explore how to change our brains everytime we practice, rather than use a cumbersome device with potential for harm? I emphasize this in my teaching. See my posts "It's All (Neuro)logical" of December 2020, and "Practicing to Build Your Brain Power" of August 2020.

I doubt whether this device will come into common usage due to cost and other factors. But if it does, I shudder at the thought of every beginning or intermediate, or even advanced student starting to practice using this device. It is frustrating when you feel you reach a "plateau" in your piano practice and you aren't improving. Some of this is the natural learning curve. But most of it is probably how you're practicing. Some of the things pianists do to try to break through a plateau are useless and some are just plain harmful. In an upcoming post I will discuss what to do about plateaus.

What Are You Thinking?

 

What exactly is the role of "thinking" when playing the piano?

Thinking goes hand in hand with talking to yourself. See my post titled "Talking to Yourself" (December 2023). Most of us have thoughts going on in our heads every waking minute of the day. You'd probably agree that, while some of it may be necessary, much of it is just inner babbling.

Discliplines such as meditation, Tai Chi, yoga, Qigong and others aim to quiet the mind. In meditation, when you become aware of the thoughts going through your mind, the goal is to just observe them and let them go. 

You may notice when you have a lot of thoughts, you are less observant of what is going on around you. If you are having a conversation with someone, the ideal would be to focus on them and what they are communicating, and not be rehearsing your response in your head while they are talking. Sound familiar? We all do it.

Some would say to think about what you are doing as you learn a new piece of music, to "process" it, even analyze it. But is that really desirable? If you are thinking then you are talking to yourself, and if you are talking to yourself, you aren't listening, just like in the case of a conversation with someone.

I recently read an article where the author wrote: Control your thoughts to express emotion in your music. He goes on to say the the process of learning music is a mental one, and when someone is not physically capable of executing some difficult music, the mind can overcome it. This is, he explains, how young prodigies manage to play all the big challenging pieces that adults do. Your common sense tells you this can't possibly be correct. A person's mind can't possibly overcome the difficulty of running the 50-yard dash in under ten seconds, or any other athletic feat. It's all physical! Yes, the mind plays a role in having confidence, overcoming self-doubt and visualizing success while in training. But while they are running the race itself? I'd bet their mind is not full of chatter and thoughts. During the race, their mind is only observing.

How would "controlling your thoughts" translate to playing with more emotion? He doesn't explain. You'll find the more you try to control your thoughts, the more they will fight back, so to speak. The only thing you can do is observe them and let them go. In playing the piano, this means your goal is to focus solely on listening to the music as you play. If you are truly listening, there is no room for thoughts to enter. But if you observe you are having thoughts, just return your mind to listening. 

Playing with or without emotion is determined far more by what you do physically (the word emotion has "motion" in it) than it is by how or what you think. If you feel your playing doesn't have enough emotion or expression, it is probably due to several factors: 1) your technique is faulty and doesn't enable you to play with beautiful phrasing and legato, for two examples; 2) you've spent too much time practicing without emotional involvement (the idea that you "learn the notes first" and add expression later); 3) you've spent too much time doing exercises which train you to play mechanically; and, 4) not really listening.

What Are Master Classes, and should you participate in one?

 

A "master class" can be offered in many different fields, but I suspect it is most common in the field of music.

A master class may be offered by a famous, or at least well-known, musician. Perhaps he or she is in your city for a concert, and they decide to offer a one-time master class. Attendees can participate, or, in some cases, just observe. The idea is that you, as a student of the piano, for example, have a chance to have a famous, top-notch pianist, listen to and evaluate your playing, and give you some pointers or advice. You would also hear the pointers being given to the other particpants (who would be playing different pieces), and potentially benefit from those as well. You would need to come prepared with at least one piece to play, one that you can play at a competent level. True master classes are never meant for beginners; you would have to be somewhat advanced to be allowed to participate.

The amount of time the master spends with each individual participant is probably going to be fairly short, because, of course, there could be a fairly substantial number of participants. They probably won't have you play the whole piece, just sections of it.

Clearly, every participant comes at a different level of ability, and the master is tailoring his comments to your specific playing. It is not a case of giving the same information or advice to everyone.

If you read my post titled Coaching vs. Teaching, you will see that the idea of a master class falls solidly into the coaching category. You have already learned the piece you are playing at the class. You have also developed your "interpretation" of the piece (whether it was intentional or not). You have already developed the level of technical ability to be able to play that piece. So the teacher of the master class is not teaching you new skills; there wouldn't be time for that. Rather, they are just coaching you, you might say "tweaking" your playing of that piece. The teacher might make suggestions regarding dynamics or phrasing or other aspects of interpretation. Perhaps some of these suggestion are quite enlightening; after all, the "master" has far more experience with music and the piano than you do, so one would hope their advice would be valuable. However, "interpretation" is a very personal thing. The master may be giving you his/her interpretation which may not feel right to you. Remember, they are not correcting wrong notes or anything at that level -- it is assumed you can actually play the piece. So it follows that most, if not all, of what they can address during the class is interpretation.

Naturally you are free to take some or all  -- or none -- of their pointers to heart. 

In my view, changing some dynamics or phrasing here and there doesn't fundamentally change how you play. How you play is essentially already "baked in the cake" because of your physical technique. Many people believe that interpretation and expression are like a coat of paint you put on at the end, but I strongly disagree with that idea. Everything you do physically affects the sound you produce, therefore, your physical technique and habits have already largely determined your "interpretation." For example, if you have developed a very finger-oriented technique, which can produce a stiff and mechanical sound, no amount of advice from the master about your phrasing is going to enable you to change that overnight. It would require a whole re-working of your technique, which would require a really great teacher, not a coach.

So-called master classes can be found online. One says it offers "small bites" of advice from famous jazz or classical musicians. However, this is not a master class, if the teacher of it is not even hearing you play. Clearly nothing they say is in response to your particular playing. If it is a one-way street of information flow, then it is really no different from all the other thousands of videos and "classes" you can find online. If you've read some of my earlier posts, you'll see I strongly advise not to try and learn this way. You will almost certainly reach a dead end. The reason for having an in-person teacher is so that they can respond to your playing, and problem-solve your particular issues.

If you are an advanced player and have the opportunity to take a master class from someone whose playing you admire, go ahead and do it if you can. But just remember it won't be a magic wand that will transform your playing.

Memorizing, Part II

 

I wrote about memorizing in a previous post (November, 2012). Some of this will be repetition of those points, but in this post I also want to give my thoughts regarding a post I've recently read from someone who also has a blog about learning and playing the piano.

The best memorizers are the the musicians with the best ears. It's really that simple. (The exception would be those with a photographic memory, who are picturing the score as they play. This may be a very reliable way to memorize, but I feel it is not the best way, from a musical standpoint.) Of course you realize that when I say "ear" I'm talking about the auditory cortex of the brain. If you know a piece of music by ear then you automatically know it by memory. Let's take a simple example: you never saw the sheet music for Happy Birthday, but it was easy for you to pick out the melody by ear and then harmonize it with a few simple chords. You are probably not going to "forget" it. Once your ear knows it, it always knows it. (You don't foget how to sing songs you've known well. Maybe the words, but not the tune.) You may think that's a huge stretch, to know a Chopin Ballade "by ear," but I assure you it can be done, and is done, by all the top pianists.

There are quite a few earlier posts which discuss how to develop your ear.

The points made by the other blogger are as follows:

• Play through your music regularly. Yes, of course, if you learn a piece but then don't play it for many years, the memory may fade. It will fade the most if you depended mostly on muscle memory, which is the first "memory" to be acquired and the first to be lost. The neurological pathways that form muscle memory have fallen into dis-use and will disappear, or perhaps they are "over-written" by new ones. If you've played piano for a lifetime, as I have, and have learned thousands of pieces, it's difficult to play through all the pieces frequently. But I do agree with the concept: the more often you bring your pieces out of "cold storage" the better you will know them.
• His second point is to understand the structure of the piece through music theory. I agree that it's a great idea to understand how your piece is put together, especially when it comes to harmony. You can learn what comprises "sonata form," which applies to sonatas as well as concertos, many symphonies, string quartets, and many others. But a Mozart sonata is very different than one by Prokofieff, and just knowing the "facts" of sonata form isn't going to help you with memorizing. Am I saying it's OK to be a dummy about musical form? Absolutely not. Although it would be possible to know nothing about how how music is structured and still play beautifully, why would you? If you love music, hopefully you'd want to know more about it -- in depth. In my previous  post on memory I discuss the ways that intellectual knowledge of your piece can be important. But it is not the primary foundation for memorizing.
• His next point is "learn the music correctly from the start." What can I say? Duh.
• "Slow practice reinforces your memory." Not necessarily. If it did, you'd find it easier to memorize slow pieces than fast ones. But you'll find that's not true. A fast Clementi Sonatina is far easier to memorize than, say, a slow piece by Rachmaninoff, Brahms, or Bartok. Why? The harmonies in the latter pieces are exponentially more complex, and it is hearing those harmonies (not just being able to name them) that creates the challenge for memory. 
• "Play through the piece in your mind." Your "fingers" may go through the motions of playing even when you are not at the piano, and your mind may be hearing the piece internally. But how much are you really hearing? Can you sing the bass line? How about one of the inner voices? I emphasize the importance of singing. The ear and the voice have a direct connection; there is no muscle memory to assist you. So if you can sing it, the ear knows it. I think limited amounts of "playing" when you are away from the piano, such as when you can't really get to a piano, could potentially be useful, but try to spend your time at the actual piano instead.
• His final point is to take care of your body and mind. Again, what can I say..... If you are ill or depressed you may not memorize easily. But I'm sure there are many exceptions. Even so, of course take care of your health for its own sake!

What About the 4th Finger?

 

Pianists often complain about the 4th finger, specifically, its lack of "independence." Or people will tell you that it's a weaker finger. (They'll say that about the pinky as well.) People (teachers, bloggers, etc.) will give you advice on how to deal with that, but sadly, most of it is not only wrong, but potentially harmful.

The thumb, pointer finger and pinky all have their own tendons. The index and ring fingers share a tendon. This is why, for example, you can't lift your 4th finger as high when your hand is flat on a surface. Contrary to what many will tell you, however, you don't need to lift your fingers high when playing, so it's not a problem!

All the great pianists of the past and present have the same anatomy of the hand, so clearly it can't really be a problem. Some will say that the great pianists do "exercises" to increase the indepence and strength of these fingers; however, you can't really overcome anatomy. 

[Please read my post titled "Independence," from, appropriately, July 4, 2022.]

When you think about it, you'll realize our hands aren't that well suited to the piano! The thumb is opposable and contacts the keys differently, the fingers are all different lengths, and then there is the situation with the tendons. And yet, over the centuries, great pianists have made it sound natural and beautiful, from the softest and most delicate to the loudest and most dramatic, from dreamily slow to dazzlingly fast. Unfortunately, some students of the piano never achieve that kind of playing. There are many reasons for this, of course, but one reason is that they follow advice that is based on false reasoning.

Robert Schumann invented some sort of contraption that was supposed to solve the "problem" of the 4th finger, but sadly, and not surprisingly, he ended up permanently injuring his hand instead. Likewise, some "exercises" can cause permanent damage if done over a long period of time.

All of this angst about the 4th finger comes from the old misconception and "300-year-old idea" (see my post of that title) that the fingers should work independently. Along with that old idea is the one that you need strength to play the piano. As you've heard me say many times, young child prodigies aren't strong yet they still play the big works for the piano that adults do. Where power is needed, such as very loud playing, the arm provides all the power that is needed. 

Instead of independence, we should be focusing on the whole hand working as a unit. Focusing on each finger produces a "note-wise" sound (the sound you might associate with a total beginner), the opposite of the "long line" and beautiful phrasing that pianists (and all musicians) strive for. The so-called exercises that are often prescribed have you playing in this note-wise manner, and even lifting the fingers high, supposedly to increase strength. Along with a bad sound, you'll find you cannot lift fingers high when you want to play fast; obviously it would be too inefficient. My advice would be: don't practice any "technique" that you can't use in all situations.

I recently read someone's blog post about the 4th finger. I'm going to go through each of his points and counter them with my own.

• "The fourth finger is naturally weaker than the others." False; it is due to the shared tendon, not strength (which would have to come from muscles).
• His paragraph titled "strenghthening the 4th finger" doesn't actually talk about that at all. He does say we need to shift the weight towards the "top" fingers, the 4th and 5th, to produce an even sound. Shifting the weight does help bring out the melody, as an example. The weight comes from the arm, and in no way changes the strength of the fingers.
  
• "Focus on playing scales and make sure you have a clean release of the 4th finger." We actually don't want to be lifting any finger. What goes up must come down, to quote a phrase. Lifting the 4th finger high, or any of the fingers for that matter, will, as mentioned, produce that note-wise, stiff, mechanical sound. Maybe you'd think that's OK for an exercise, but if you do it, you will find that's how you'll play your pieces as well. It's difficult, if not impossible, to learn one technique but then do something else "when it counts."
• He also says to practice slow, with the metronome. (Why on earth would you need the metronome??)  None of this will change the anatomy of your hand and it will definitely not make your playing musical and beautiful.

I would caution people to take the advice of someone who doesn't even give you the actual facts (e.g. no mention in his post about the tendons). Most of what he advises is a re-hash of the old ideas which were developed when they were still playing harpsichords.

When to Trust, When to Question

 

When you start lessons with a private teacher as a total beginner, you need to do a good deal of research to find a good teacher. Though it's tempting just to select someone who is geographically close to you, or someone who has the lowest hourly rate, you may be doing yourself (or your child) a great disservice. Asking friends for a recommendation could be useful, but if that friend just went to the closest or cheapest teacher, they may not have enough perspective to make a good recommendation. You'd have to know more about the student's progress with that teacher, as well as their level of enjoyment, to assess the recommendation. Unfortunately, some people don't really have high expectations of piano lessons, and some even expect that there will be some degree of drudgery involved, since this is what they have heard from others. I've spoken with dozens (possibly hundreds) of people over the years who hated their childhood lessons. And yet, those teachers were still probably recommended to others simply because the person recommending didn't know any better.

If you are starting lessons as an adult having had lessons earlier in life, at least you may know what you did or didn't like about your previous lessons. But you still don't necessarily know what the alternatives are. 

I've written several posts about finding a good teacher (see "Finding a Teacher" from 2011, or "Is Your Teacher a Professional?" from 2024, and others). I recommend you read those first.

You've done your due diligence and you've started the lessons. Now what? It's best to go into the lessons with a completely open mind, if possible. The lessons may be quite different than what you expected. Or maybe they're very much what you expected. But the fewer expectations you have, the better. If you chose that particular teacher based on solid information about how they teach (which you would have gotten in your interview with them before starting), and you feel comfortable with them personally, now is the time to trust. The teacher is the expert (hopefully) and you are not, so there is no point to question their instructions at this stage. You need to go with their guidance and see where it takes you. And it takes time to absorb all the new experiences, so you can't assess after just a few lessons. The exceptions to this would be if the teacher is unkind or critical, or if what they have you doing causes any pain or strain in your hands and arms. These would be red flags and you need to question the teacher about them immediately. But, other than that, if the lessons are enjoyable, just go with it. If the teacher is explaining why they are having you do certain things, as they should, then you can feel comfortable that you are on a good path.

If, however, after a few months or so, you find you dread practicing and/or going to the lessons, or if you just feel you are not making progress, now is the time to question. Bring any and all concerns to the teacher and evaluate their response. If they wave off your concerns saying "well, that's just how it is when you're a beginner," or something along those lines, you should continue to seek answers from the teacher. If the answers are simply not satisfying to you, perhaps you need to try someone else. It happens. As I explain in earlier posts, there are no tests or evaluations that private teachers have to pass, so, unfortunately, you are the guinea pig. No two students are the same; if the teacher is actually a good teacher, he/she needs to be an excellent problem-solver, and it is the teacher's responsibility to work at solving your particular issues or problems. If the teacher just follows the same "formula" for every student, many students may find it lacking for their needs. It may be time to cut the cord and move on.

This month, January 2025, marks 50 years since I started lessons with my late, great teacher, Joseph Prostakoff, in New York City. When I started lessons with him, I already had my degree in music from Manhattan School of Music, and excellent conservatory in most respects. And yet, I had come to realize that my piano teacher at Manhattan was not right for me. Unfortunately, he wasn't that interested in teaching! After graduation, a chance conversation with a friend led me to Mr. Prostakoff, and after meeting with him to discuss his approach, I had a strong feeling I needed to study with him.  He changed my playing, my teaching, and my life. I was seeking something very different that I had experienced at Manhattan, and that is what I got. At the first lesson he said:

"Many things I tell you and have you do will seem strange and perplexing to you. You will be tempted to fall back on your previous ways of playing and practicing. However, you have come to me because you are seeking a new path. So you must put yourself in my hands and trust me completely. If, after some period of time, you come to believe this path is not right for you, you are free to go, and we part as friends."