Learn How to Play Piano from Expert

As far as the general rules of interpretation are concerned, I will give a few which appertain to what might be called the syntax of music. Such are the following. An ascending passage should be played with a crescendo, a descending passage with a diminuendo. The pedal must be changed according to the harmonies, in order to blend the tones, and to enable notes to be held on which the fingers could not manage without its assistance. Rhythm, too, as distinct from time, must be clearly marked, so as to indicate where accents ought to fall, and to create atmosphere. Music played without true rhythm will always sound colourless and insipid. Time should also be well defined, that it may preserve the general form of the composition.

Skilful use of all these means makes up the art of interpreting, and it is for the mentality of the pianist to employ them in their varying degrees, to mould them, combine them, and dispose of them, and thus invest the whole work with the pulsating breath of actuality. No doubt there must exist in the interpreter a natural good taste which will govern his outlook, and this can only spring from a sound musical instinct trained by education, and by hearing great artists perform. For it goes without saying that there are no absolute rules about interpretation. There can but be some broad outlines of style and taste to stimulate the imagination of the student, and help him in his task.

As I have already pointed out, the interpretations of the masterpieces of music by great artists become established as traditions. Still the personal thought of the performer should make its influence felt in the rendering of all music, even of the most classical type, if that rendering is to be of any -real value and interest, only this personality has to conform to the general dicta of the style. Thus it will be found that no two fine artists will interpret a piece in the same way. There may be a thousand differences of expression in their particular performance, and each of them equally correct. This fact only illustrates how imagination and colour may be infused into interpretation in much variety. For great musical compositions may well be compared to beautiful landscapes, which are ever changing in colour and effect through the action of atmospheric conditions. On no two days does the country look alike, yet its composition and outline remain fixed, everlasting.

It is told of Beethoven that he played over one of his own compositions to a talented pupil in order to give him some idea of the interpretative side, and then asked the student to play the same piece again. This was done, and the master complimented him, remarking that although it differed greatly from the original, it was decidedly better.

This reminds me of Tchaikovsky, who was asked, after conducting a composition of his own, why he did not do so in the same way as he had once done before. “My friend,” the master replied, “if you ever see me conduct this again, it will be different still. It is merely a matter of mood.”

Another detail which it is necessary for the student to bear in mind is that technical passages ought never to be played as if they were of purely digital dexterity, as this method makes of such passages only hard, uninteresting interludes of display, wearisome to the listener and of no value musically. All technical passages, even the most difficult ones, should be considered as embroideries of the main harmonies; in fact, they are the rhetoric of the composition.

Melody also should not be knocked out with unbalanced enthusiasm to the entire detriment of the accompaniment, nor should any two notes of a melody be given with exactly the same tone colour, for this will create monotony of sound. Every single tone should be on a general scale of gradation, each having its own place in the scheme of chiaroscuro; because the mechanical tone of the piano itself, with which we are dealing, makes it imperative that every device to conjure up perspective and charm should be brought into service, and above all typewriting effects of precise striking must be strenuously avoided.

It is to-day, as always, the mission of the authoritative interpreter to amplify and throw new lights upon these traditions, and not be content to accept the general version which his less-gifted brethren have to subscribe to with reverent faith. Still, even for the great artist the fundamental principles must remain the same, and for him, as for the student, they will form the guiding line of his mental vision.

Of course, I know that there is a school of musical thought which practically condemns any effort at interpretation or emotion in music. They like to be given just the notes as they were written down, like so many words recited without a shadow of life or expression. Artists have often been much called to task by critics who hold such views because their interpretations of the masterpieces of music are based on the natural conviction that the greater the music, the more power of colour, fine feeling and poetry it ought to be able to express. It is difficult to understand the people who talk with arrogant authority about how exactly a musical work should be interpreted. They like to invest it with a sort of traditional dryness of expression which tends to render especially the older of the great classics a sort of trial of tediousness which many genuine music lovers submit to endure only as a kind of educational duty. It is, I am sure, a good deal a matter of temperament that controls these radical divergences of ideas about musical performance. It seems to me that to hold such views is not to get any further than mere arrangements of detail and narrow perspective, while the true majesty of the picture is missed. I have many times met truly musical people who found Bach and Beethoven dull, and were surprised at having been stirred by a great fugue or sonata which they had never appreciated before. And I am certain it was because they had never been allowed the opportunity of realizing the full glory of such music. For can one imagine a nobler or wider range in which to find every wealth of imagination, intellect and feeling than is to be found in the great sonatas of Beethoven.

The earliest pianoforte music we know of was written in the form of simple dance measures such as courantes, allemandes, pavanes, gigues and so forth. These were performed upon very primitive-keyed instruments, amongst the best known being the virginals, harpischords and spinets, and they were only suitable to the plainest methods of treatment.

Indeed, the story is told of Dr. Arne, the celebrated eighteenth century English composer, that he said about one of those instruments, ” It is the devil’s own instrument, my masters, like the scratch of a quill with a squeak at the end of it.”

Only since the variety and capacity of instruments have developed, and also since Bach created the complex and polyphonic harmonies which revolutionized pianoforte music, has the scope of harmonical expression become so greatly enlarged, and the problems which surround it so complicated. The discovery of the pedal, too, changed the whole complexion of interpretation on the piano, while in the light of modern technique it seems strange to think that before the advent of Bach the use of the thumb and also of the 5th finger was absolutely forbidden by the best teachers.

In those days the wrist was held high and the hand stiff; a high chair was no doubt also used for sitting at the instrument, and the whole attitude while playing must have been one of rigidity and precision. Any rendering of this primitive music was necessarily very quiet and limited in the means employed. All violent crescendo or diminuendo effects were impossible, and the rhythm was confined to the swaying but monotonous lilt of the gigues of that day, or to the more stately measures of the pavanes. Certainly it would seem, to say the least of it, indecorous to play a piece of the sixteenth century even on a modern pianoforte with the abandonment of a Liszt Rhapsody, or, vice versa, to render the passionate music of Chopin or Liszt with the demure coldness of the early masters. This is where a sense of style should come in, to help the artist in his conception of the different aspects of musical composition.

Now comes along the temperamental student, burning with ardour for the beauty of the music, longing to make the noble chords of some fine melody speak out its message! What special pitfall lies ready to entrap his zealous endeavours? Why, in his enthusiasm that the melody in both hands should be properly brought out, he gets one hand playing after the other! Only a fraction of a second after the left hand does the right hand strike, but in that loss of simultaneousness of sound the whole grandeur after which the performer is striving will be dispelled in the irritating effect of one part of the harmony always reaching the ear at a slight interval after the other. This is a most frequent failing amongst very musical people who enjoy tremendously what they are playing; and especially does it occur with them in slow movements, when they will arpeggio the chords between the two hands so much that it sounds to me like drawling in speech, or even like stuttering. These enthusiasts lose their sense of the symmetry of the sound in their intense pleasure over its component parts, and it is hard that the very virtue that lies in their love of the music can thus lead them into danger.

Dragging the time, another tiresome error of judgment, proceeds generally from the same cause of over-fervour. The player who suffers from this blemish mostly owes it to a lack of sense of proportion and taste, and to a certain want 01 artistic perception of the guiding line between true sentiment and sentimentality.

Correct fingering is a very essential part of piano playing, for it not only conduces to an easy supple technique and to the proper performance of the music, but it also assists in giving light and shade to passages.

This is because some of the fingers are stronger by nature, and some are weaker, and by using them according to their different strength when required, a certain natural gradation of tones is thereby generated.

In the early days of pianoforte playing it was considered wrong to use the thumb or the 5th finger at all upon the keyboard, and later when these two were admitted it was still forbidden by teachers to take a black key with the thumb, and this even until quite a short time ago.

The reason that the use of the thumb was thus limited was partly due to the fact of its working rather awkwardly on the black notes owing to its construction. But the main objection to it really was that it was impossible to get a legato tone on the black keys if the thumb was employed. This would be so still if it were not for the help of the pedal; but until recently the pedal had not reached the perfection of mechanism which it now enjoys, and was consequently not applied so much. At any rate people did not think of using it to facilitate the free employment of the thumb. ‘Nowadays, of course, even jumps can be bound over by the skilful application of the pedal, and a smooth, flowing, continuity of tone can be obtained in the most awkward passages.

There certainly are occasional geniuses whose exceptional powers and facilities for the pianoforte enable them to perform in public without having been through the workshop of the technical school. But these are few and far between, and upon inquiring closely about them it will generally be found that their labour and difficulty in mastering technical passages are immeasurably greater than those of other pianists with far less talent who have had the advantage of thorough schooling.

They will most often complain bitterly themselves of the lack of that foundation of technique they never had the opportunity of acquiring, and the want of which continues to hamper them through life. In fact, one of the greatest living pianists, who was practically self-taught, once told me that he would have saved himself ten years of drudgery if he had been able to study one year with a great pianoforte teacher like Leschetitzky.

The hands and movements of such self-taught pianists, too, almost always look ungainly and distorted on the keyboard when playing awkward passages. And this is not only disturbing to the eye but very often also to the quality of the sound, which quickly becomes laboured and heavy under severe strain. The player who “arrives” with such disabilities must indeed have genius for the piano! But there are not many such highly gifted people in the world, who succeed in spite of every obstacle. I believe the inhabitants of this globe number over fifteen hundred millions, but amongst them all there are not more than a dozen really great pianists!

Therefore, student, learn to play scales carefully, tunefully, exactly, rhythmically, smoothly, and eventually quickly, and arpeggi evenly, clearly, and elegantly before embarking upon the performance of the great works of pianoforte literature. Many cast up their eyes to Heaven in an inspired way while playing, hoping, I suppose, thereby to make up for lack of practice on this earth! But Heaven cannot help them if they have not learned to play scales and arpeggi properly.