The relationship between the piano teacher and parent is a work in progress. Nothing should be taken for granted.
Here are various case scenarios and categories:
I. The Arm chair teacher-parent, aka the back seat driver equivalent
Description: Parent sits in during the entire lesson providing an unsolicited running commentary on child's playing.
He/she will bellow out note corrections and beat reinforcements.
I was originally enlightened about the value of blocking out intricate and tricky passages when I attended a rehearsal of Rudolf Serkin and the New York Philharmonic.
He was about to play the Beethoven “Emperor” Concerto No. 5 with its majestic opener of broken chords (arpeggios) and as a warm-up, he silently blocked out a series of chords numerous times.
At this moment in time (easily 35 years ago) I was beginning to explore the same avenue of practicing, (though audibly) and after observing a virtuoso break down the ingredients of a monumental passage into “chunks” I permanently joined the ranks of pianists who regularly embraced this learning approach. (of course, it was combined with many others)
Here’s an example where I navigate a tricky section of Beethoven’s “Pathetique” Sonata, No. 8, Op. 13.
Naturally, it’s not enough to chunk aimlessly. In this case, the harmonic rhythm, or progression of harmony frames practicing. Knowing about key modulations, voicing, and having a workable fingering are part of the intricate learning landscape. Intertwined is the physical approach–how the wrist and arm work together in mobilizing energies to the fingers.
MORE Blocking as I practice the “Pathetique” first movement,(starting measure–27) Add in rhythms, dotted-eighth/16ths applications and the reverse (16th-dotted-eighth) plus thumb placements. (I rehearse where my thumb is advancing through a passage, and isolate those spots) I think of my thumb as a hand “guide” over the keyboard.
It’s nostalgia time for me, reconnecting with the Pathetique that I butchered as a teenager before I landed in the good hands of mentor, Lillian Freundlich. The teacher before, lived about 4 blocks away, but was miles off the mark in her teaching. She had me studying the Chopin Scherzo in Bb minor before I could smoothly play a simple C Major scale in two octaves.
I remember the day I broke down and cried, knowing full well that what I heard internally, was ungraciously undermined when I put my paws on the keys.
Thank God, my audition piece for Lillian, the Pathetique, did not send me pathetically packing. It seems Freundlich had a sixth sense that some innate musicality was lurking in the dark shadows of my misguided performance. (I can’t believe this piece earned me a 90% for my NYC HS of Performing Arts Project) It turned out that “political” connections influenced the jury, since the teacher in question who shoved this piece at me, was a favorite soloist on the East River Concerts conducted by P.A. Chair, Julius Grossman. Better performances than mine would sink ships.
Now it’s decades later, and the Pathetique has undergone a few makeovers. The most recent one, is a work in progress.
Coincidentally, a few of my students are head over heels to play the first movement, so I’ve decided to pick it apart piece by piece in preparation for our collective journey.
In my frenzied desire to have a reunion with a composition I deeply love, I’ve begun with a revisit of the GRAVE, which is an undertaking in itself.
Arpeggios are fun-filled, broken chord escapades across the keyboard. In legato form, they’re chock full of rolling motions–but even if rendered staccato, they never really lose their SHAPE.
In the attached video I explore the very build-up I use when learning a F minor arpeggio in contrary motion. (includes lots of blocking, and some rhythmic applications)
I hope this helps. It certainly refreshes my own approach that trickles down to students, who are my best teachers.
Add transition from legato to staccato arpeggios (in parallel and contrary motion)
Many students have dizzying head movements when faced with the challenge of playing scales (or arpeggios) in contrary motion, (or from opposite directions starting at a keyboard mid-point)
To address a growing problem among students young and old, I devised ways to develop fluidity in this au contraire universe without a head trip.
Here’s the scale I picked: F minor. The FJH Scale Book sample page attached shows only the Harmonic minor in contrary motion, though I chose to focus on the natural form.
By the end of my instruction, I rippled through all three forms. (Pure, Harmonic, and Melodic)
I enjoy my weekly journey to a home way up in the Hills of El Cerrito (neighbor to Berkeley) There, I teach Lucy and Fritz who play a lovely, resonant Baldwin Acrosonic that I advised mom to purchase (over at DC Pianos) Acros happen to be among my favorites in the spinet/console category.
The Back Story
Lucy was a transfer student, coming to study with me at about 7, and at the time she’d brought the Bastien primer, and various binder-inserted patriotic songs with chord symbols, etc. (Throw in “Happy Birthday!”)
She played by finger numbers, since most method books are short-cut based, riveting students relentlessly to five-finger positions.
Going back five years in time, I recall finding Lucy beautiful music, leading within 12 months to the James Hook Minuet, that I sourced from the Toronto Conservatory series, making sure she began her one octave scales (FJH Classical Scale Book) in all keys framed by the Circle of Fifths.
Arpeggios were partnered, woven as broken chords, rolling through sound space.
Phrasing with a supple wrist, singing lines, shaping them, practicing with separate hands became our steady learning model and over months melting into years, I watched a little girl grow into a very expressively musical pre-teen. (Her scales rippled across the keyboard beside a splash arpeggios)
Lucy is now 12, and has more recently learned Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” (NO transcription), Chopin Waltz in A minor No. 19, Op. Posthumous, Ballade by Burgmuller, and now “Inquietude” by the same composer. This past week, she embarked upon Mozart Sonata 545 in C (first movement-Allegro) The latter will apply her dedicated scale work.
Both Lucy, and her younger brother Fritz, (who began lessons with me at 6) have done well, knowing that patient, baby-step practicing will reap long-term rewards.
Here are two sibling lesson samples from 6/7/2013.
Lucy is practicing “Inquietude” with an ear toward “harmonic rhythm” (staccato bass chord progressions) and an awareness of curvy groups of three notes, figured in the treble. (her flexible wrist nourishes a nicely shaped set of notes)
My Playing in Tempo: (Lucy will gradually inch up to Allegro agitato as the piece ripens) There is NO rush to the finish line. The process is what matters.
Background, Friedrich Burgmuller
Burgmuller (b. 1806, d. 1874) was a colorful Romantic composer who enticed students to learn his program-inspired music. The Op. 100, Twenty-Five Progressive Pieces that includes “Inquietude,” is a treasure trove of appealing miniatures framed by imaginative titles. (“Sincerity,” “The Clear Stream,” “Sorrow,” “Angels’ Voices,” among others)
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Fritz, 9, is practicing William Gillock’s “Flamenco,” an engaging, rhythmically-driven piece with an ethnic Spanish flavor. (very popular among young piano students and adults alike)
In this pertinent video instruction Fritz demonstrates his parceled out learning coupled with a physical awareness of a supple, spring forward wrist for the opening section, and a rolling motion, for the contrasting middle section.
William Gillock:
Born: July 1, 1917 – LaRussell, Missouri, USA
Died: September 7, 1993 – Desoto, Dallas, Texas, USA
“The noted American music educator and composer of piano music, William Gillock, learned to play the piano at an early age. He attended Central Missouri Methodist College, in Fayette, Missouri, where he studied both piano and composition with N. Louise Wright, who recognized his remarkable talent and encouraged him to make music his career.
“Even the earliest of his compositions show a rare inventiveness and originality of harmony and texture, as well as the Gillock trademark, melodic beauty. Called “the Schubert of children’s composers” in tribute to his melodic gift, Gillock composed numerous solos for students of all levels and ensemble music for students and their teachers to play together. He summed up his guiding compositional principle by saying that “melody and rhythmic vitality are essential to compositions that students want to learn.” This and others of his thoughts were transmitted to thousands of teachers and students through the hundreds of workshops he conducted over the years throughout the USA.”
