Beethoven and that Other Guy, the One All Pianists Hate

Beethoven. Stop, just for a moment, and consider your gut reaction when you come across that name. The name means something to nearly everyone, even those perhaps not so well acquainted with classical music; "that song for some girl I played way back when I took piano lessons," "a large dog" (O.o) "disco music" (!). As classical musicians, who have been trained to assume a pose of rapt adoration and awe whenever even part of Beethoven's name is mentioned ("No, guys, I meant Van Cliburn, you can get up off the floor now."), the relative ignorance of a world who, although they may not all be as naive as the above exaggeration suggests, rarely listen to Beethoven or give him a thought, is shocking. But they do know his name. And that, in this generation of rap and hip-hop, speaks to the indisputable greatness of the man.

It is fascinating that, for such a great composer of piano music, Beethoven was not considered to be a polished pianist early in his career. His early seeming devotion to the organ is interesting, and makes me wonder how much of an effect it had on his pianistic style. Organ playing ideally has a very smooth legato, and Beethoven began the tradition of a default legato setting in piano playing. Could this, as well as some of his fastidious fingerings, be in part the result of his early organ playing? Whether this is at all the case or not, Beethoven certainly pioneered a new age in pianism, writing pieces that required more than just finger technique. It is interesting to note, however, that despite his huge works for piano it is said that when he played "His hands and the upper portion of his body were held quiet" (Gerig, Famous Pianists and Their Technique, pg. 96).

It is sad that Beethoven never published a method book. His attention to fingering, and the worth of the few exercises we do have seems phenomenal. Whereas Clementi and Hummel published huge volumes of exercises, Beethoven's few would almost do the trick. Not long, or overly complicated (in most cases), they teach the necessary skill quickly. What is more, they encourage good fingering, and the ability to find good fingerings, as well as finger dexterity.

In stark contrast to Beethoven's modest output of pedagogical exercises, there stand the volumes of his student, Carl Czerny. And volumes. And volumes.And volumes. These copious works have caused Czerny's name to be that most likely to be uttered in conjunction with an expletive by pianists. Perhaps this is not entirely fair; Czerny was after all by most accounts a warm-hearted man who tirelessly taught piano. Furthermore, he was a student of Beethoven, and his method books begin to break away from the finger school, and even advocate some movement by the body, as the music calls for it. Most important is his exhortation that "each musical piece. . .is an Exercise in itself" (quoted in Gerig 115). He encourages teachers not to overburden their students with mere technical exercises. Of all of Czerny's teachings, perhaps this has the most worth; there are so many good pedagogical pieces of music these days that I wonder, is there a need to rely on books of exercises any longer? What is more, Czerny's 'survival of the fittest' style regimen of exercises may drive away young pianists, even those with talent. Why sit and repeat endless difficult exercises when you could use that dexterity to kill more rivals in Halo?