Repeated Notes

 

Repeated notes, that is, playing the same note in succession, sounds like it would be easy. And it can be. But once again, there is a lot of misinformation, or "300-year-old ideas," as I call them, on this subject. There is an old idea that, if playing the same note, you must use a different finger each time you play it. I have to assume that this idea came from the technique for harpsichord, which has an very different mechanism than the piano. The "key return," the speed at which the key itself comes back after being depressed, was slower on the harpsichord than on a piano, and certainly slower than our modern piano, assuming it is of good quality. (I am not an expert on the harpsichord, but I feel confident that my information is correct.) Theoretically, the fraction of a second it would take to change to a different finger would be enough for the key to return. But on our modern pianos, I can play a very fast repeated note using the same finger, by starting with a good strong pulse with the arm, and the rest of the notes "bounce" off of that pulse. A drummer does this with the drumstick to achieve rapid iterations. Since the drummer is not using his fingers per se, he has to use the power of the arm. Or think of skipping a stone in the water: after the initial impulse (the throw), the stone hits the water and then bounces several times. I can get quite a few repetitions this way with no change of finger.

However, if I had a great number of repetitions, I would change finger. But that doesn't mean the work is done by the fingers alone. It is necessary to get a good pulse going with the arm. Changing fingers slightly changes the angle of the arm and wrist to the fingers, and prevents the hand from stiffening as it might if playing with the same finger over and over. Take Scarlatti's sonata in D minor, K. 141, which has rapid-fire repeated notes for most of the piece. Since there are six sixteenth notes in the measure, I would do fingers 1 (thumb), then 3 then 2, twice for each measure. When you start the measure with the thumb, the arm does a small pulse and the other notes come from that pulse. In this way you can get speed without fatigue, because the bigger muscles of the arm are doing a lot of the work. Trying to do this with only finger technique would produce pain and fatigue in almost everyone. (Watch the Martha Argerich performance of this piece on YouTube if you want to have your mind totally blown!)

If the repeated notes are slow, and you want them to be legato, just as you would if they were two different notes, then changing fingers will almost certainly ruin your chance of legato. In the moment of changing fingers, the damper would come down on the string and make a fraction of a second gap between the notes. Instead, you must not let the key up all the way before depressing it again. If you look at the white keys from the side, you can see if you have let the key all the way up, or if you have let it come near to the top but not all the way. If you re-depress it before the damper comes down, you will have legato. This is absolutely the effect we should strive for in many instances. When you hear a not-so-good pianist you may notice they never achieve that effect. (If the composer has marked it detached, then obviously you don't need to do this.) 

One of my pet peeves is that when you see fingering marked in the musical score (usually by an editor, not the composer), you will see a change of finger on a repeated note, even when it is a moderate or slow tempo. This is very inefficient and has absolutely no benefit. And, as mentioned, you won't be able to make it legato. This is another example of people clinging to old, out-dated ideas that are not supported by the facts -- the physical properties of the piano itself or of the human body.

Non-standard divisions of the beat (complex rhythms)

 

If you are an intermediate or advanced player, and you play the music of Chopin and the other Romantic composers, as well as a great deal of the music since that time, you will have encountered places where the beat consists not of the usual divisions of two (such as eights or sixteenth notes) or three (triplets), but in what I will call "non-standard" divisions. In Chopin, for example, you will find many beautiful passages in the Nocturnes, Ballades, etc. where there is a run (sometimes written in eights, sometimes in sixteenths) with a number such as 5, or 15, or 17, or just about anything, written over the beat (or beats). This means, of course, you must fit all those notes in the beat as shown. Since it is Romantic music, you have the opportunity to have some nuance of timing, and the 15 notes, say, don't have to be exactly metrically equal. There can, and probably should be, some subtle slowing and/or speeding up within it, to enhance the musical line. But they must fit in the beat; you cannot change the length of the beat (except possibly the tiniest amount -- again, a nuance), and therefore the measure, because that would destroy the integrity of the rhythm.

If the number of notes within the beat is say, 15, it will probably be fairly fast. If it is only 5, then it may not be. But regardless what the number, or whether it is fast or slow, you need to learn how to play these. I cannot emphasize this point enough: if you have depended on "counting" to help you with rhythms, you will find it impossible and will be utterly at a loss as to how to approach it. If you try to break them down into smaller units, such as dividing up 15 in 3 groups of 5, it may seem to work but will probably sound stiff and unmusical. Remember, Chopin didn't mean for you to divide it in three groups of five, or he would have notated it that way. The idea is to make the passage sound flowing, and even improvisatory, not metric.

So how do you learn to do these? You learn by giving yourself a unit of time, and then "filling in." Start by playing (probably in your right hand) the note C and then the note G. The time between these is now your unit. Then you fill in the notes (white keys) in between. That's five notes, but the C is the beginning of the beat, and the G is the beginning of the next beat. It is important to remember that whatever number of notes you are filling in, it ends on the next beat. So if you fill in the notes from C to G (C-D-E-F-G) you will have actually played 4 sixteenth notes, again, ending on the G, which is the beginning of the next beat. Four sixteenths should be very simple and of course we do it all the time. You will find it helpful to pick a moderate to fast speed for this. Then, take the same time unit, but go from C to A and fill in. You will now have filled in 5 notes. Remember, don't even think about trying to divide it up into smaller units, which would defeat the whole purpose. Now do from C to B, filling in 6 notes, etc., continuing to make the unit larger each time, with more notes to fill in. Don't worry about perfect fingering, just do anything that works. We are not working on the physical aspect here, but rather, we are training the ear to hear these units and be able to fill them in. It's all about the ear. 

Later on, you need to do them randomly. In other words, start with filling in 7, say. Then the next time, start with 10. And so on.

The concept is the same as my approach to learning rhythm from the very beginning. The analogy is that you have a "log" and you learn to "chop" it in equal pieces without the benefit of a measuring tape. With an actual log, you "eyeball" it; with a unit of time, as in music, you "earball" it. See my posts on rhythm for more explantaion.

When you get to filling in really larger numbers, say beyond 12, it is really extremely challenging. But try to be able to get to at least 10 or 12.

You can also fill in using the chromatic scale. If you were trying to fill in 12, for example, you could go from C to C with the chromatic scale.

When you start this, you may not be able to tell if you are doing it correctly. If you start to slow down the time unit (the beat) each time, then you are not actually filling in, you are just changing the length of the beat. And remember, in the actual music we are talking about, you can't do that -- it would be a distortion and not at all what the composer intended. You might be tempted to set a metronome to the time unit, and see if you were able to do it correctly. But what would be even better is to be your own metronome. Slap you left hand on your lap, or tap your foot, and see if you can keep it steady on the time unit while your right hand fills in.

When I do this with my students, I play the "outsides" of the unit, in other words, the beat, along with them as they play. So if they didn't end with me, then they didn't keep to the beat. If they went too slow, then they know they just need to go faster. There is no way to "calculate" how much faster, you just keeping adjusting, trying again, adjusting again, until you get it.

Obviously, it it easier to do this when you are just playing a scale -- notes in sequence. The actual notes in a passage in Chopin will be harder, probably, but at least you now have a foundation.

Another reason why learning to hear these divisions of the beat is critical is so that you can do cross rhythms (also called poly-rhythms). I'm thinking of a Rachmaninoff prelude where the left hand has the beat dividing in 5, and the right hand in either 2 or 3, for the whole piece. Each hand has to be sinuoulsy smooth and silky-sounding. You can't try to "calculate" it out mathematically (like some people might tell you to do with two against three). The only way is to train your ear to hear two different rhythms, or more precisely, two different divisions of the beat.

Rhythm is probably the area that students of music have the most trouble with. Some never actually learn to read the rhythmic notation and instead they just go to YouTube to listen to the piece they are playing and try to copy the rhythm. But obviously, that is not a path to mastery. Rhythm CAN be taught, and CAN be learned, including complex rhythms. 

Should you look at your hands when you play?

 

A lot of people would assume the answer to this is yes, of course you'd have to look at your hands when you play; how else could you find the right notes? However, as with many aspects of playing the piano, the best way is often not the way you might assume.

If you taught yourself to play the piano, and/or play mostly by ear, you probably look at your hands. Why not? Why would you just stare off into space? You could do that, or your could close your eyes. In fact, many people might find it enjoyable to play with eyes closed, as it usually enhances the emotional response to the music. 

But if you are reading music, then the question arises: should you look at your hands? My answer is an unequivocal NO. If you learn to read music by constantly looking down at your hands, you will never be a good sight reader. Of course, it seems easier at first, to just look down and "find the notes." However, you will always be dependent on doing just that, and will probably find it nearly impossible to change that habit. "Easier" is often not the best indicator of long term success. The problem with looking at your hands is that you never learn what I call the "geography" of the keyboard. 

We are all born with a level of kinesthetic awareness; some people have a hightened awareness and may be what we would call kinesthetic learners. Others perhaps don't have the sense very well developed. But regardless, you can learn to improve your kinesthetic awareness through the right kind of training. A high level of kinesthetic awareness is critical to play an instrument such as the piano. If you depend on your eyes (visual skill) you will short-circuit the development of your kinesthetic skills.

When you are a beginning student, the books that introduce reading have your hands placed in such a way that you are playing five notes in each hand. This way you can easily learn to feel the notes without looking, since they are right under your fingers, so to speak. Gradually the book will move to music spanning six, seven, eight notes and more. You learn to feel these distances without looking as well, and also to move your hand to a new position as necessary. It's a gradual step-by-step approach, and if you adhere to it (and have a good teacher to help you), you will be able to do all of this without looking at your hands at all. Naturally, beginning music is not going to have you doing giant leaps all over the keyboard. (That is a skill which you will also be able to do without looking, in time. After all, blind pianists do it all the time, so we know it can be learned.) Soon it will be second nature -- IF you don't "cheat" and start peeking at your hands.

The main reason you can learn to "feel your way" is because you learn to read by interval. That is, you see the notes on the page as distances from each other, not as absolute values. The problem with learning to read by thinking "that's an A, that's a C, that's an F" and so on, is that it will encourage you to look at your hands to locate that particular note. Reading by interval teaches you to navigate your way around the keyboard. (See my earlier post on Sight Reading.)

What about "mistakes?" Don't you have to look at your hands when you have a wrong note, so you can correct it? Absolutely not. As a beginning or intermediate student, you will have many wrong notes. That's just part of learning. But if you look down at your hands every time, you will become dependent on it and all the work of trying to not look at your hands will be undone. Instead, you must learn to let your ear inform you where the "wrong note" is: are you too low or too high? By how much? Then you learn to adjust. This is the real mastery: to adjust for a wrong note and continue, not just stop, look, "fix" and then start again. (See my earlier posts on wrong notes.)

Looking at your hands is also just too slow for advanced music. When you are a beginner, your music will be moderately slow. But as you play faster music, the eyes would not be able to process at those speeds. The body is much faster than the eyes. And if the hands are far apart on the keys, you can't actually see both at once.

At the lessons with my students I am quite adamant about learning to play without looking at hands and I make sure they understand that this applies to their practice at home as well, of course. Yet somehow, every now and then I'll have a student who I find is not really progressing in their reading as well as I thought they would be; sure enough, they finally "confess" that at home they look at their hands first, to "find all the notes," and then try to transition to not looking. It just doesn't work.

I often say that if I could take two students of equal natural ability and who spend an equal abount of time practicing, the one who learns NOT to look at their hands will make progress twice as fast as the one who looks. It is that important.

What about after you've memorized the piece and are no longer looking at the music? Can you finally look at your hands? The answer is YES, but you'll barely need to. At this point, the eyes will be your final "ace in the hole." You will just be keeping a general eye on things, but you can now use your eyes to make sure you nail that giant leap. You may not even need to, but it will give you additional security.  I believe that the eyes (visual) are a resource that we need to learn to use wisely. Your primary tools are the ear (auditory) and the kinesthetic. The thinking mind (intellectual) and the eyes are secondary (although they do have their roles to play). I'm certain this is true in most sports as well, since almost all sports require speed and quick response time.

This subject is related to my earlier post about immediate gratification versus long-term success. Looking at your hands may seem like a good idea because it appears to help you find the correct notes. But you will sacrifice long-term success with this habit, because playing the piano is highly physical, and you have to focus on training the physical aspects of playing.

Modes

 

In a previous post I attemted to explain and clear up confusion about minor scales. Here I will explain what people refer to as "modes."

The so-called modes are simply other scales whose construction is similar to the scales you are already familiar with -- major and minor. They also have 7 tones and have mostly whole steps with half steps in two places in the scale. No two scales have the same exact construction (if they did they would sound identical!).

The modes are: Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, and Lochrian. What many people don't know is that our major scale used to be called Ionian, and our minor scale was called Aeolian. In the Western world there are these seven basic scales, upon which most of our music is based (although I personally know of no music which is based on the Lochrian scale.)

As you can tell from the names, all these scales came to us from the ancient Greeks. No one "invented" them; we have to assume that people started singing, or playing simple instruments, and someone (it is attributed to Pythagoras -- yes, the math guy) codified and wrote down what he heard people singing.  As far as we know, he identified the seven scales listed above. We don't know if some were predominant and others less so. We know that at least several of these scales continued to be used through the Middle Ages. When people hear the chants and other music from the Middle Ages they will often say it sounds "modal," and that is because many are based on the non-major and non-minor scales.

Sometime later, certain scales began to be used more and others less. I am fairly certain that this is because of the growth of the importance and complexity of harmony. Certain scales seem to work better with harmony. The Ionian scale became known as Major, and the Aeolian as Minor. In the centers of the growth of Classical music -- Germany, Austria, France and Italy -- the major and minor scales became the favored scales. However, the other five scales hung around, especially on the "fringes" of Europe such as Eastern Europe and the British Isles. 

Even into our modern age you will hear composers such as Bartok (Hungarian) using Dorian and other older scales, because he heard these in the folk music where he grew up. Even Chopin (Polish) used some, such as Lydian, for parts of his pieces (never the whole piece, however). In Celtic music you will hear Dorian. Debussy was searching for new sounds and he turned to using the modes, which, at his time and place, would have sounded very unusual and exotic.  This is just a partial list. Even the Beatles have some elements of the modes. There is a hint of Dorian in Eleanor Rigby and I think that Norwegian Wood is in Mixolydian. 

When students learn about these other scales, they are often shown them on the piano. All of you reading this know that if you play from C to C on the white keys you get C major. If you play from A to A on the white keys you get A minor. Following along with this idea, if you play from D to D on white keys you get Dorian; E to E is Phrygian, F to F is Lydian, G to G is Mixolydian, B to B is Lochrian. However, you must remember that ALL of these scales came into being hundreds of year before the first keyboard instrument, so they were in no way influenced by the idea of "white keys." (See my post titled "Do you have a white key mentality?") Any and all of the scales/modes can begin on any key, white or black. The scale is determined by where the whole and half steps fall, as mentioned above. I have found people to be confused and locked in to the idea of these modes being all white keys.

As mentioned, many composers have used the modes in their compositions. Jazz improvisors use them (but I caution you about asking a jazz musician to explain modes to you; it may be very confusing!). If you enjoy improvising, I would encourage you to try improvising in, let's say, Dorian. You may find yourself drifting to minor (since Dorian and minor are similar). Our ears are so conditioned to hear just major and minor that is is challenging to really hear the others. You can do it on white keys the first few times to make it easier, but then challenge yourself to play them starting on other keys. Most people will experience the modes as a new and "refreshing" sound. As with some other areas of life, what's old is new again.

Let's Just Play it by Ear

 

Here in the Pacific Northwest we are snowed in, with freezing temperatures -- very unusual for us. Since I'm confined at home I thought I would take the opportunity to write a light-hearted post I've been thinking about for a while.

When people are making plans to go somewhere or do something and the plans can't be finalized, they often say "let's just play it by ear." What they mean is that they are going to keep things flexible, see how the situation develops in the moment and be able to respond.

I love that a phrase about music and playing an instrument have become a part of our mainstream language and idioms. When people hear the phrase "let's just play it by ear," they know exactly what is meant, even if they have never actually played anything by ear.

However, playing by ear is not exactly the right analogy for this situation. When you play music by ear, you are attempting to reproduce the actual song or instrumental piece as closely as possible to the written music. If you are playing a melody by ear, you want to get it exactly right; otherwise, it won't be the actual song, but something similar. If you are going to harmonize the songs, you want to get the harmonies exactly right, or very close, though you may have to do it in a simplified way. For example, if the song was from a movie score and it was accompanied by an orchestra, and you are attempting to reproduce it by ear on piano, you can get the harmonies exactly right, depending on your abilities, of course, but, needless to say, it won't sound exactly like an orchestra. You may be making your own arrangement of the song, but you are still attempting to have the song sound very close the actual song, so that your listeners will recognize it.

When you improvise, you are truly making it up as you go along. The best improvisors may never play the song or piece the same way twice. You may be using a previously-written song as the basis for your improvisation, but, depending on your skills, you may embellish the song's melody and harmonies to such a large degree that is almost becomes something else entirely. And, of course, you can do free-form improv, that is, not based on anything except your own musical ideas at the moment.

So when people say "let's just play it by ear," what they actually mean is "let's improvise." Making it up as you go along is more akin to improvisation than it is to playing by ear. And sometimes people do say "we'll just have to improvise" when they realize they can't predict or plan the future.

Either way, playing by ear and improvising are great skills to have, and, as you know if you've been reading this blog, I highly recommend both!

Keep it Simple

 

Everyone who listens to music (I'm speaking here in particular of classical music) has their own preferences when it comes to performances and interpretation. One person will love a particular performance of a piece and another will not like it much at all. There is no one right or wrong way to play a piece of music; it's really all a matter of taste. So it is not for me to tell someone what to like or not like. That being said, I'm going to share one of the attributes of playing that I feel contributes to the beauty and power of a musical performance. It is this: keep it simple.

Some musicians feel they must "do something" to a piece they are playing in order to put their personal "stamp" on it, to make it different that other people's playing of the piece. They would call this their "interpretation." It would be almost impossible for two people to play identically, so you are already going to play it differently than anyone else due to the way your body moves, the way you hear things, and all the other influences throughout your life that will affect how you play. I've heard pianists say they want to "decide" on their interpretation of the piece, as if it were an intellectual decision. Personally, I'm completely mystified as to how one would "decide" that. Rather than impose my ideas on the piece, I would prefer to let the music flow through me, unemcumbered. I'm not exactly saying I would be "channeling" Beethoven, for example, but I am getting out of the way so the music can speak to the listener without a filter, so to speak.

When I listen to someone play who is trying to "interpret" the piece, I usually experience it as "fussy," that is, too oriented to small details. Their performance misses the forest for the trees. Their playing gets bogged down in details and lacks the sweep and emotional power that I want to hear.

I recall a performance of a Chopin Nocturne by someone I know. From the very first measure she was doing all sorts of extreme rubato (nuances in the timing) and fluctuations of dynamics, and then piling on more and more of that type of thing as the piece went on. The performance was, to my ears, almost a jumble of unrelated phrases. She seemed incapable of just making a simple statement, letting the beauty of the music speak for itself. Someone I knew years ago said "You don't have to try to make the music beautiful; it is already beautiful." I believe that the work we do in our practice, improving our technique and strengthening our ear, is in order to have the mastery to let the music come through. 

When you start working on a new piece, just see if you can play it simply, without trying to "do too much." It would be analogous to a sentence with a straightforward message, without a lot of flowery language. I'm not saying to play it without emotional involvement -- quite the contrary. You must be emotionally engaged, but as the listener. Just listen to the music you are producing and you may, over the course of learning the piece, instinctively add the nuances that your ear is searching for.

I realize this goes against come of the conventional "wisdom" about playing and performance in classical music. I believe that too much emphasis is placed on the performer. They become celebrities. When you hear a really great performance, in my opinion, you get carried away by the beauty of the music to the extent that you become almost unaware of the performer. I believe that we, as performers, need to get our egos out of it.

Please ready my earlier post entitled Interpretation (2/13/15) for more in-depth discussion.

As with many areas of life, it would benefit us to keep it simple.

Favorite Quotes from my Teacher, Part II

 

It's best if you read my previous post, Part I, before reading this one.

If you can reach the interval, you don't need to stretch; if you can't reach it, no amount of stretching will help you.

This seems counterintuitive at first. Don't you have to stretch to reach, say, a tenth on the piano, if your hand is not very large? Wouldn't that be the only way to manage it? Actually, the correct way to reach an interval that is just at the limits of your hand is to relax into it. Stretching actually tightens the muscles. When you stretch in yoga, for example, you don't force the body into the pose, you relax into it. That is the way to become more limber. My hands are small to normal, yet I reach a tenth, because I have learned to let the hand relax into it. Try this: close your hand in a relaxed (not tight) fist. Gradually open your hand, as if you were watching slow motion photography of a flower blooming. Then just float onto the interval you want to play. You will notice it feels much easier and reachable now, as long as your hand didn't tense up at the last second. Keep practicing this and you will train your hand to stay relaxed for the larger intervals. Since I can't reach any more than a tenth, no amount of stretching will make it happen.

How you hear will be how you play, and how you play will be how you hear.

This is actually a very profound concept. Other than my teacher, Joseph Prostakoff, I have never heard anyone else propose this idea. If you move in a stiff or choppy way when you play, your ear will become used to this sound and will not only accept it, but prefer it. It will sound normal to your ear. Because your ear expects that sound, it will continually drive you to play in that way. If you play in a very smooth, connected way, with long lines and phrases, your ear will accept and prefer this sound, and will continue to compel you to play that way. In other words, there is a feedback loop between your ear and the physical, actually your motor cortex, which sends the impulses to the hands and fingers. Think of a young child playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star; it will be quite choppy -- what I call "note-wise" -- which is basically the hallmark of a beginner's sound. To the child, this sounds perfectly fine, and the child would not be at all aware that there is a better sound to strive for. If the child receives no instruction in how to use their hands and arms differently, they would most likely continue to play in this way. They might, however, as they grow up, hear recorded or live music played in a more connected and fluid way, and could possibly try to achieve that sound. In that case, their ear would be directing their body to do something differently. 

For the teacher, this presents a singular challenge: how to get the student to play and hear differently. Which one do you start with? I start with the physical, which is easier for me to work on with them in the allotted lesson time. Through various means, including, but not limited to, having their hands lightly on mine as I play, or my manipulating their hands as they play, they get a sensation of a new way to move. When they can start moving this way, the ear gets a chance to hear the improved lines and phrases, and will, as explained above, start to seek out this sound. It's a long process. This process may go extremely quickly in a student with more natural ability, and go slowly in a student with less. Some people say you can't teach "talent," but you can teach the student how to move more beautifully, and therefore play more beautifully.

All we have to fear is fear itself.

Of course you will recognize this is actually a quote from Franklin Delano Roosevelt, from a speech about World War II. It applies to many areas of life, including playing an instrument. If you've read my posts entitled "Fear," you'll see that I strongly believe that our fears -- fear of mistakes (wrong notes), fear of not measuring up to expectations, fear of "putting ourselves out there," and many others -- govern a great deal of how we play, and how well we play. Some fears you may be aware of and others not so much. It doesn't matter how many hours you practice; if your playing is encumbered by fear, it will never be truly great. An insightful teacher can help address these fears at the piano. Mr. Prostakoff was an amazingly insightful teacher. He would often quote this FDR phrase at our lessons. It certainly bears repeating.