Learn How to Play Piano from Expert

Passages in sixths are extremely complicated and are rarely to be met with, as they necessitate so much extension of the hand, and it is consequently difficult to play them legato at all. The general principle for playing sixths is the same as that for thirds, but it is not advisable to practise them a great deal, because the continued extension of the position may prove injurious to the hand, and strain or cramp can result.

In order to obtain this smooth passage of the thumb in scales, I advise that the wrist always be kept absolutely loose, and that in slow practice, when the thumb is ready to pass, the wrist be raised temporarily from its usually low position to a higher one; also the finger which strikes the last note before the thumb has to pass (in scales it is always the 3rd or 4th finger), should be slightly inclined towards the direction in which the hand is going to travel.

Taking the ascending scale of C major, in the right hand, for example, and illustrating what I want to point out by a diagram thus :

It will be seen that upon the E, which is struck by the 3rd finger, the line underneath is raised and inclined towards the direction the hand has to go, so as to represent the lifting up of the wrist, and the inclining of the finger. The thumb then passes easily underneath the fingers on to the next note F, without any awkwardness. The same movement is repeated further up the scale after the 4th finger, and so on through all the octaves in ascending scales for the right hand. For descending scales, the process is reversed. The wrist is raised when the thumb falls, and the finger which follows it is inclined downwards in the direction the hand has to go.

In the left hand exactly the same process is used as in the right, only the order is reversed, that is to say, the wrist is raised at the thumb, in the ascending scale, and at the 3rd or 4th finger, in the descending one, the inclining position of the fingers being correspondingly observed. In all scales in every tonality, this action of the wrist and fingers should be similar, and the principle of lifting the wrist at the finger before the thumb passes, and inclining the finger in the direction the hand is to travel, greatly facilitates this passage of the thumb, and ensures smoothness and freedom of motion. In fast scales this movement practically disappears, as exaggerated actions only impede swiftness and look ungainly, but a smooth and undulating motion remains, which is elegant and imparts an elastic and supple articulation, and also gives character to the various passages.

It is to this end essential in scale-playing that a certain pressure should be given on the keys with every finger as it falls. The importance of this pressure lies not actually in itself, but in the principle it contains. For the action of making the effort of pressure upon each note gives a mental stimulus. This idea of continually renewed pressure to “activate” work is also advocated by some of the professors of physical culture. Springs are made in dumbbells for the hands of victims to press upon. These trainers of the body have realized by experience that unless the minds of their patients can be concentrated on their work by having to press the spring of the dumbbell, their actions soon become purely automatic and cease to exercise their muscles properly.

So it is also on the pianoforte keyboard. The player’s mind is kept alert by having to press the fingers down upon the keys, and being thus forced to think about what he is doing. For if the fingers merely run over the keyboard without attention, that kind of practice can do no possible good whatever. The mind must always be present like a general, whilst the fingers are the soldiers who obey his behests.

No doubt every beginner should seek out a good teacher to show him how to set about conquering difficulties, but however wonderful the teacher, it is up to the pupil to concentrate and see that his mind works in conjunction with his fingers. Hard work for the mastery of detail and unlimited concentration of thought are necessary for arriving at any really fine performance on the pianoforte.

On the piano there are many branches of virtuosity to be mastered, but none more essential than perfect scale-playing. Much of the bad fingering which impedes pianists from getting through passages of elaborate runs is due to ignorance of this important technical detail.

Almost of equal necessity with scales are arpeggi, which should always be practised in conjunction with them, with every kind of different accent and rhythm. The serious student should make a point of studying these for at least one hour every day, playing scales and arpeggi in four different tonalities each day, and going through all their harmonic developments as set down in the compendium at the end of this book.

I believe in practising scales slowly, and playing each hand separately, and, above all, in working with the utmost concentration of the mind. One hour of concentrated practice is worth ten hours of mechanical repetition of difficulties by people who scarcely think what they are doing. Practising, even of scales, must never become mechanical, or the labour is vain.

The student should always be intently listening, and be sure that no single note has an ugly sound, but that each is played with a musical touch and the tone produced is round and full. Even the most uninspiring exercises can be made to sound pleasing and harmonious if played with, scrupulous attention to the quality of tone.

Among the many students who come and play to me and ask me for advice, the majority remind me of a well-known limerick about a certain young lady of Rio, whose skill was so scanty she played Andante instead of Allegro con brio!

I must be excused for drawing attention to the young lady of Rio, but it is because her case is true and typical of so many other young females and also males whose houses are much nearer London than Rio. I should like, therefore, to say a few words about attempting to play great masterpieces of pianoforte music without sufficient knowledge of technique, and especially of that immensely important branch of it, the mastery of scales.

It has been my experience that whenever particularly young and raw students come to play to me and want to show what they can do, they invariably attempt such giant works as the Brahms- Handel Variations, or the Appassionata Sonata of Beethoven, or the Chopin Ballads. After they have finished playing a sonata or two (most often in tempo andante, like our friend of Rio), I ask them to play me a scale. They usually evince astonishment at my request, and answer that they never practise scales at all.

If ever they do what I ask, their performance of them proves to be, as a rule, unrhythmical, uneven and altogether unsatisfactory. Yet most pianoforte works contain passage-writing which is directly based upon scale progressions. I have known many advanced pianoforte students who are quite unable to arrive at any high standard of performance through lack of technical knowledge and want of proficiency in scale-playing.

Who does not quote, at times, in referring to such performers, the hackneyed plea for indulgence: “He makes up in expression what he lacks in execution”? As if this excuse itself did not prove upon examination to be a sheer piece of nonsense. For where there is no sufficient command of execution the expression can only be halting, stilted, and ineffective. In a reproductive art, such as pianoforte-playing, the perfect rendering of all the emotions inspired by the music can only be obtained through unlimited control of technique, which, of course, implies absolute mastery of manual dexterity.

So many talented amateurs who really wish to study their art to the backbone and attain professional proficiency do not realize that they must first acquire what is generally known among artists as a good ” school” The world “school” used in this sense means a firm background of technical principles by which difficulties can be solved in the most logical and profitable manner. The acquirement of these principles can only be gained in the years of hard work which should precede any serious attempt at performance.

It was interesting to me, in the light of my views on this subject, to have been present recently at the Dancing School of the Russian Ballet. Here their greatest stars practise every day, for several hours, technical exercises and steps which eventually constitute a wonderful and intricate ballet. And though to the impatient the mere study of scales may seem intolerably dull, yet it is a wonderful feeling to notice power growing gradually, and things becoming easy which at first seemed insurmountable.