Chapter 14: Russian Nationalism

"Before your fingers touch the keys you must begin the piece mentally--that is, you must have settled in your mind the tempo, the manner of touch, and above all, the attack of the first notes, before your actual playing begins. And bye-the-bye, what is the character of the piece? Is it dramatic, tragic, lyric, romantic, humorous, heroic, sublime, mystic--what?" I think this is something too often forgot about. For me, I perform much better if I take a minute and mentally prepare to play. If I think of the opening measures, the rhythm, character, dynamic, etc., I will usually start more confidently, which can then hopefully continue through the performance. I think Rubinstein is wise in saying this.

I enjoyed reading Lhevinne's description of the technical standards of the Russian Conservatories. Scales and arpeggios are important, and probably an important aspect of daily practicing. I think that these fundamentals are often forgotten about in the practice room, and would be something beneficial to add to our daily practice routines.

The production of tone at the piano I think is somewhat hard to explain. Recently, I have been experimenting with similar directions that Lhevinne gives. The wrist and arm are to be loose, but the fingers must be firm and direct. In trying to resolve my tension problems, I developed flabby fingers, which then produced a whimpy tone without much direction and substance. I am currently experimenting with finding the right balance between firmness in the hands and looseness in the wrists and arms. It is not easy, but I feel like my tone is improving, and therefore, think there is something to what Lhevinne has to say about tone production.

I like Horowitz's description of the process in practicing. It is more valuable to work on sections and details, rather than constantly playing through the piece. This is a hard think to do, and requires a lot of discipline and concentration. However, the outcome is worth it; by focusing on details and working slowly from one section to the next, provides a greater learning curve for the piece than continually running the entire piece. I also like the idea of working on parts of one movement one day, and then choosing a different movement or piece the next day. Variety in practicing keeps it interesting and allows reflection in between each session on a particular piece. Then, when returning to that piece, a fresh approach can be taken, rather than a monotonous one.

Chapter 13-14

I really appreciated the I-have-no-method Leschetizky. The idea of ‘the method depends on the person in front of you’ is very convincing to me. I truly think the technique we applying on the instrument differs from one to another. This really makes sense to me because we’re all differently built, thus the perceptions of the instrument we have are different from the first day we played on it. I never think technique involves strict rules. There maybe some general common ideas, like ‘to attain a maximum of achievement with a minimum effort’, or to avoid any kinds of physical injuries.

Anton Rubinstein is unexpectedly a far more interesting person than I thought he was. I knew he was a great musician, he played piano well and also some compositions, but I didn’t know he had such a funny personality. I really like it when he said ‘When you are as old as I am now you may do as I do-if you can’. Maybe that won’t be quite enjoyable for his students, but that still kind of reflects part of the reality.

The ‘Daily Exercise’ concept of the Russian school is absolutely admirable. I can see all those famous names appeared in the chapter spending years and years of hard work to achieve what they had. I’m also impressed by their thinking of taking good care of people they recognized with musical talents. And the thought of ‘it’s the teachers’ responsibility to lead the students not feeling bored with years of scales and arpeggios’ makes me wordless. I think the perfectionism is so deep in the Russian’s blood that they actually treated piano playing sincerely like a religion. I’m not sure I can ever do that. And I don’t think I’m living in that kind of culture nowadays too. It must be a very interesting experience to actually go to Russia and see how this tradition mentioned in the book sustained till today, it must be pretty mind-blowing.

Anyways, I just feel so guilty not spending enough time and effort in attaining perfection after reading the chapter. I must practice more.

Chapter 13: Leschetizky

Leschetizky is wise in stating, “If you think yourself a poor specimen, you will probably always remain one, or most likely become one, but if you think of yourself as having the possibilities of greatness in you, there is a chance for you.” If people do not believe in themselves, they will have a hard time amounting to much.

I like that Leschetizky in part emphasizes the importance of listening to oneself. Speaking from my own experience, I do not think students do enough of this today. I have caught mistakes when listening to recordings of myself that I did not notice when practicing. I have also thought I sounded terrible when practicing, and then hear a recording of myself and found I liked aspects of my playing. We often do not sound exactly how we think we do when practicing, and I think we would have a better conception of our sound if we listened more intently.

As prescribed by Leschetizky, “the brain must guide the fingers, not the fingers the brain.” This statement is a wise one. Playing the piano requires a lot of brain power, and if you think of what you want to do and then reflect on how you did it, I think, will be beneficial in the end for any pianist.

I think Leschetizky’s statement “for accuracy without expression isn’t worth that” is an important one. So often, I think pianists are expected to be machines and consistently play perfectly. But, I think an audience would be more moved by a performance filled with emotion and expression, and the occasional wrong not, as opposed to a dry, yet perfect performance.

I like how Leschetizky does not believe in one prescribed method for teaching each piece or individual students. The analogy that he is a physician and his students are his patients which he has to prescribe different remedies for their musical ailments is a good one. No student learns in the same manner, and requires different types of instruction.

The order of fingers with regards to strength in the Bree method is interesting. While I think, depending on the student, the strength of the thumb, second, and third fingers are somewhat interchangeable, I am not sure if I agree that the fifth finger is stronger than the second.

Russian Nationalism

It was so exciting that Bettina Walker said that ' to imagine that Henselt was sinking his fingers into warm wax.' Can you guys imagine to sink your fingers into warm wax? I have never thought about that. I think it means his playing was very smooth, natural, beautiful and lyrical. Also, the tone or touch should be tender and arem, elbow and wrist should be relaxing. So I am trying to imagine the warm wax before the practicing. I think it could be better to relax my arm, elbow and wrist. I am happy to get the new idea from here.

As I know, almost all Russian pianists have high techniques to play the piano. I have seen and heard some Russian pianists's playings and I felt almost all Russian pianists did not have any technical problem such as 3rd, 6rd, repeated notes and octaves which almost students who are majoring piano performance have. Also, sometimes, I felt Russian pianists performances are very technical rather than musical. Of course, a lot of Russian virtuoso's playings are not only lyrical and musical but also technical such as Rubinstein. But I felt some Russian pianists more concentrate on the technique and the fast tempo. (I remembered Russian piano students were usually playing the piano very fast than other countries piano sudent eventhough it is the same piece) So I was wondering what the piano education or lesson they are educated. I guess piano teachers might teach piano techniques relating with arm, elbow and wrist. In my experience, some Russian pianists's playings are very powerful and technical. But according to this book, Russian music schools regarded the tone or touch as important. I am just wondering the piano teching method became little bit changed? or are the tone and touch also very related with the piano techniques?

Chapter 13 & 14

Leschetizky's " method" was introduced in chapter 13. In his methods, he didn't care too much of physical technique. But, he focused on tone and musical expression. The book, The Groundwork of the Leschetizky Method, contains some points of his view about touch, chords, hand, wrist and arm. I believe his influence on piano pedagogy transcend his reputation as a pianist. His individualistic approach was applied to every student's personality. It is remarkable that he regarded himself as a doctor to find remedy for his students.

 

Also, I found Leschetizky who was a good piano educator not only had professional ability, but also had charming personality. As mentioned in this chapter, "there was magnetism in the Leschetizky personality". I believe that no matter being a successful piano teacher or performer, he or she may have some unique attractive personality. Besides the excellent ability of performance, lots of famous pianist must have their own characters which allow audience to remember them.

 

As a student, we usually say "I like this teacher". In a sense, the reason why we like this teacher is not only based on his professional knowledge but also his personal character. In my opinion, Anton Rubinstein was not a good teacher, although he was such a wonderful pianist. It looks every student was afraid of him. And it is hard to believe he screamed to his student and asked him to practice a passage 3000 times. If a student is afraid of his teacher, how could this student express his most inner feeling before this teacher on the piano? We can see that not every good pianist is able to be a good piano teacher.  

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Baby It's Cold Outside

Ah, the Russians. Vodka, fur hats, and that wickedly cold climate that halted Napoleon; what could be more fascinating? I have to admit, however, that while the works of the great Russian composers comprise the majority of the music on my "reasons to live" list, I have always been a little wary of the Russian piano school. In reading this chapter, however, I discovered interesting information not only about the Russian school, but also about the performance and rehearsal practices of a few of its most famous pianists.

First off, we have Rubinstein, an interesting guy indeed. What fascinated me about him, were the accounts of his many mistakes in performance, more interesting still, though, was the overwhelming opinion that in light of his wonderful interpretations, these mistakes mattered little. Aha! said I, all I have to do is develop wonderful interpretation- and the ability to improvise- and wrong notes and memory slips will not matter (developing said interpretation and ability to improvise is another matter altogether, however)! But then I read further, and discovered that in fact, Rubinstein did have amazing technique, and that he did not allow his students the liberty of mistakes in their own playing. This brings up an interesting dichotomy; correct notes, and mechanics of playing are immensely important, we all agree, but if in a performance setting (heaven forbid), it becomes impossible to hold everything together, which should be saved, the interpretation, or all the correct notes?

We move on to Horowitz, whose practice habits were interesting. He was an advocate of slow practice, something I, for one need to do much more of. It is only when piece is "dissected," so to speak, that one can really be aware of how it works, and of the individual motions needed to perform it. It was also interesting that he spent three hours a week on sight reading. At this point, I'd say it's pretty much settled that that's what I'm going to do, when I have more time. . .


And finally, my current musical hero, Prokofiev. Although there is not as much to say on his technique, it is worth noting the description of his practice of his own third concerto. Although he had played it brilliantly before, he still took the time to break it apart for slow practice, and make sure that everything was in working order, and check for improvements that could be made in his playing. If a composer can do this for his own work, what does this say about my practicing of others' works?


Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some Russian music to listen to.

Mother Russia

Good old Rubinstein. I would have liked to watch him play. His technique seemed unique as he combined arm and finger technique to suit his "paws." He is one of the first to discuss how important the pedal is to playing. His teaching approach was a little intense with all the shouting, but still humorous. My former teacher threatened to hit me with a salmon on occasion, so I can kinda relate... His communication in teaching seemed quite vague, but would be successful for students that responded to the style: imagery, mood projection, willing the sound etc. What I believe was most effective, was the student's conception of the piece, making them prepare the sounds keeping in mind the character of the piece. It's no wonder Safonov suggested the same thing, it truly works.

The conservatory playing seemed so intense, and I can't imagine doing all of that stuff everyday. They never skipped a day of scales and arpeggios. I liked Levhinne's points as well. Relaxation comes from the wrist and arm. We must be certain to articulate in our teaching the only playing with relaxation or playing without tensions isn't possible. We want to eliminate tension where it isn't needed and relax where it is needed. Music is all about tension and release. I wasn't so sure about the different tones produced by the location of the fingertip. I think it's more about the execution of the note that produces the different tone.

His wife strongly suggested getting into the appropriate mood of the piece when practicing. Sometimes I practice something else when I'm not feeling a piece. She also suggested hearing yourself as others hear you. This point is invaluable. How often do we actually listen to ourselves and hear what we are playing? Recording is a huge advantage and often reveals many things. I don't know about recordings causing a student to mimic them. I think it can be very helpful to listen to a recording, or several different recordings and take what you like in each. I really don't listen to pieces I'm playing that much, but I don't see it as a bad thing.

Horowitz's practice of playing a piece through once when first learning but not playing it completely until it was ready sounded completely crazy to me. I think I can take a book out of his page, and in fact I do spend too much time running through pieces. This is where being a good sight reader has its disadvantages. Everything in moderation, I suppose...