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This incredibly useful article comes from Graham Fitch’s Practising the Piano blog, which is full of sound advice and guidance for productive practising. This article chimed particularly with me, as this week I have been getting students, and myself, ready for our concert next weekend, and careful, attentive practice has been the watch word of my lessons recently.
We all have ‘black spots’ in music we are learning: sometimes these are not the most difficult passages, but such places need special attention to stop them becoming major problems, which can affect the overall continuity and flow of the music.
Read Graham’s excellent advice here
Those of you who follow I Can Haz Cheezburger will recognise that the title of this post is written in “LOLcat speak”, but there is a serious intent to this post…………read on.
Last week, I took two of my students to a community masterclass run by concert pianist and teacher Graham Fitch. The idea behind a masterclass is that a student’s playing is critiqued in front of a well-known and respected pianist or master teacher and other students and interested observers. It’s usually a fairly intimate affair and allows both participants and observers to get really close to the ‘action’. As a child in the 1970s, I remember watching masterclasses on BBC2 with ‘cellist Paul Tortelier or pianist and conductor Daniel Barenboim, and thinking they were quite stressful affairs for the students taking part, especially with Tortelier, who was a rather histrionic Frenchman. These days, such programmes are considered too esoteric for mainstream tv, and have largely been replaced by those instant, or near-instant gratification programmes with catchy titles such as ‘Conductor in a Day!’ or ‘From Car Mechanic to Carmen‘. Interestingly, as my piano teacher pointed out the other week, when we were have a joint grumble about how much we despise programmes such as ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ and ‘X-Factor’, none of these programme feature learning to be a pianist in day – because its so damn difficult!
Many piano courses, including my teacher’s twice-yearly weekend courses for advanced pianists, are run as masterclasses with a small group of attentive students gathered around the piano, and one person in the ‘hot seat’. I thought it would be nerve-wracking the first time I participated in such an event, but I actually found it incredibly useful, stimulating and supportive. It’s interesting to hear not only what the teacher or acknowledged expert thinks about your playing, but also the thoughts and views of fellow students too, and it can become a forum for new insights and ideas about the music you are studying – for both student and teacher.
So, armed with a piece to play each, I took Ben and Saskia off to Southfields for their class with Graham. The station was all spruced up for the tennis (you alight at Southfields tube station for the Lawn Tennis Club), complete with jaunty hanging baskets and grass-court green carpet on the platforms. The venue was only a moment or two down the hill, in the Baptist church, which boasted a nice baby grand piano. Ben fell on it immediately – he’s the student who’s always noodling! Prior to the class, I had assured both children that it was “not an exam” but rather an opportunity to play for someone other than me.
Despite the relative inexperience of both students (Ben passed Grade 1 last summer, and Saskia has just taken her exam), they were quick to respond to Graham’s ideas and suggestions, and it was wonderful to hear the difference in their playing after only a few minutes in Graham’s good-natured and inspirational company. Suddenly, the Menuet in F (ABRSM Grade 1 List A) which Saskia played, was lifted beyond a straight early-classical examination set piece, and sparkled with life, a little glimpse of Mozart at home with his sister, Nannerl, and father Leopold. Meanwhile, Ben’s reduced version of the Moonlight Sonata took on a dark and mysterious tone, complete with a tolling “dead bell” in the RH melody.
For me, it was lovely to hear my pupils playing so well, eager to respond to Graham’s ideas, and to see Graham in action as a teacher, which made me realise that, despite my own relative inexperience (I have only been teaching for 5 years), I am largely “doing it right”. (Ben came to me as a complete beginner, and there he was, reveling in Beethoven’s romanticism and revolutionary musical vision!). We all came away from the event full of inspiration and ideas, and I found myself incorporating some of Graham’s methods (colours, statues) into my own lessons the following day.
In another, not unconnected experience, later in the week, I played the Liszt Sonetto 123 del Petrarca for a friend who is a professional pianist, who had kindly agreed to critique my playing as part of my preparations for a recital diploma later this year. Although not a masterclass, per se, nor was this a lesson in the strict sense of teacher and pupil, as at my stage, one is expected to arrive for a lesson full prepared, so that we can spend time discussing aspects of technique or interpretation rather than note-learning. The best part, of course, was having my playing praised and being told I was on the right track for the diploma – oh, and the opportunity to play a really lovely piano.
I do enjoy being taught because it gives me ideas for my own teaching, and even the most complex areas of technique can be adapted to suit early students. And yet another useful learning experience will be afforded me this coming Sunday when I attend my teacher’s one day workshop for piano teachers on teaching piano technique. At my teacher’s request, I’ve prepared some notes on how I adapt those aspects of technique we work on together to my most junior students. Given the enjoyment I’ve gained from Penelope’s weekend courses for pianists, I am sure this workshop will be a very helpful and informative. I have already ‘met’ one of the other attendees, thanks to Facebook!
This kind of study is often called “ongoing professional development”, and there are plenty of courses available through organisations like EPTA and the Associated Board for teachers to improve their skills. I feel it’s very important that a teacher does not rest on her laurels: a few merits or distinctions amongst your students’ exam results does not mean you know it all, and a good teacher is one who is always open and receptive to new ideas and methods. I also regard regular concert-going, attending courses and lectures, and, of course, masterclasses as crucial areas of my own personal “ongoing professional development”.
See ‘rockstar’ pianist Lang Lang submitting to Daniel Barenboim’s greater knowledge and experience in Beethoven’s ‘Apassionato’ Sonata
And here’s a spoof by very young-looking Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie from ‘Saturday Live’
And finally, here’s a ‘LOLCat’…..
by Graham Fitch
I had the great privilege to embark on my postgraduate studies with Peter Wallfisch, studying with him from 1980 for two years (but returning on occasion thereafter). During my time with this remarkable man, my playing blossomed and I grew not only as a pianist but also as a musician. I look back on this chapter of my life with gratitude and a tremendous fondness for a teacher I came to love dearly. Last year, when I visited his widow, Anita Lasker, I walked into the studio where I had had my inspiring, magical lessons and was overcome with emotion as so many wonderful memories flooded back.
Peter Wallfisch was born in Breslau in 1924, and had sought refuge from Hitler’s Germany in Jerusalem and Paris before settling in Britain in 1952. His tenure as a professor of piano at the RCM was from 1973 to 1991, during which time he influenced many notable pianists now active in the profession. He was head of a musical dynasty that includes his wife Anita Lasker-Wallfisch, (cellist and founder of the ECO), son Raphael (international concert cellist), daughter-in-law Elisabeth (noted violinist), grandsons Benjamin (composer and conductor) and Simon (cellist and tenor). Peter was a musicians’ musician who is remembered not only a solo pianist but as an ensemble musician. His lineage was the Germanic tradition from Bach right through to Reger and Krenek, but he also championed very many British composers (including Kenneth Leighton, whom he raved about) and other slightly unusual composers (such as Novak). He confessed to having a passion for organ music, and he was not overly keen on Chopin or Rachmaninov.
One time I arrived for my lesson and Peter was not in a good mood. Sensing this, I asked him if he was OK and he pointed to a stack of scores on his desk, bemoaning the fact that he had been roped into learning it for the BBC and for concert engagements. It turned out to be by Frank Bridge, whose music at that time had fallen into neglect. The following week, I asked him how he was getting on with it. His face lit up and he enthused for many minutes on the undiscovered qualities of this music and how wonderful it was. Peter was at the forefront of the revival of interest in Bridge’s music, which rubbed off onto me. He immediately suggested I learn the two pieces “In Autumn” and I had much success with them. Among my prize possessions is Peter’s score of the sonata, littered in his inimitable way with crayon and pencil markings that only he could make sense of, certainly a testament to a practical musician!
I was officially registered for lessons with Peter at the Royal College of Music, but after a while my lessons moved from room 68 at the RCM to Peter’s home in Kensal Rise. Not only did I occasionally get to stay for tea and wonderful conversation with Peter and Anita (and Millie the cat), but my good fortune extended to lessons which went on all afternoon. Three hours was the norm, always without a break, and usually on just one work. He gave of himself unstintingly and generously and as I was walking down his garden path after the lesson, I felt that I had been given the ultimate secrets to the music we had just worked on. This went way beyond a mere piano lesson. There was one time I took a very half-baked Beethoven’s op. 109 sonata along, and yet after my lesson felt that I could almost have deputised for Barenboim that very night, such was the completeness of my understanding of Beethoven’s message. There were many such experiences where I left having had more than a lesson, but a Gestalt of the music – an experience of the essence of the whole picture even though my playing of it might yet be primitive. Pieces that stand out are the Brahms-Handel Variations, Bartok’s Third Concerto, Mendelssohn’s “Variations Sérieuses”, some Debussy and plenty of Bach, Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven…
It is difficult to describe how Peter taught. One thing I can say is he never, ever talked about piano playing as an activity in itself. His comments were always about the music. He would hear what I had brought in and would always give a totally honest appraisal of what he had heard. He was never one to mince his words, thus you could always rely on his reactions and comments as a very accurate barometer of how you’d done. If he didn’t like it, you would certainly know; if he did like it, he could ooze genuine enthusiasm and encouragement. You always knew where you stood with Peter.
Technical difficulties seemed to melt away, since through his lengthy verdicts and fabulous verbal descriptions of what he wanted to hear (he rarely demonstrated) you were literally infected with a mental and aural picture that left no doubt as to how the piece should go. There were so many times when, before he had finished talking, I was itching to play again because I knew exactly what he meant. After he had said what he needed, I would play again. What was difficult before now often wasn’t at all because I had an ultra clear picture of the sound, of the composer’s meaning. If you did ask for technical help – I mean specific pianistic help – he might even get annoyed. He really did not like talking about piano playing per se. Once I asked him what exercises he practised (I knew he had quite a warm-up ritual for himself). Again, he dismissed my question, saying that he did not want to burden me with it, nor did he like to do his dirty laundry in public.
There are SO many individual lessons I remember crystal clearly. During a lesson on op. 109 I missed a sforzando accent in the second movement and received a very painful dig in the ribs which taught me way better than words could have. Now, whenever I get to that place in the sonata, I feel a psychosomatic twinge of pain. There was the tail end of someone else’s lesson who crowed that he had managed to learn a Beethoven sonata in a week. Peter went red in the face and exploded: “How dare you say that! It took Beethoven months of time, sweat and blood to write that sonata, and you claim you can play it in one week!”. Another lesson that stands out for me was on a Bach Prelude and Fugue. After I finished he told me it was excellent and that he could not fault it. But I noticed a trace of disdain in his voice, and sure enough he said to stop it sounding sterile and boring, I had to find my own voice with the piece. When pushed, he made a few vague suggestions but would not be specific and it took a while before I figured out what he meant, that he expected me to take personal ownership of the piece.
Even after I had gone to America on my Fulbright Scholarship, I would return to Peter to play for him. I always received the same warm welcome and uncompromising advice. His influence is still with me to this day. I very often think of him, and I still miss him!
Graham Fitch is a London-based pianist, piano teacher, piano adjudicator, piano examiner, piano lecturer and writer/commentator on piano. www.grahamfitch.com
Obituary of Peter Wallfisch in The Independent
Practising the Piano. Newcomer to the blogosphere, Graham Fitch is a professional pianist and teacher. He offers sensible advice and helpful tips from “one who knows”. His articles about ornaments have been particularly useful (to those of us who are interpreting Bach’s mordents for their students!), including a film of him demonstrating “how to do it” at the piano.
Bachtrack.com. Forgive the shameless self-advertisement, but I couldn’t not include Bachtrack.com, since I have now joined their team of reviewers! Bachtrack is an online listings site, with powerful filters enabling you to search by artist, orchestra, ensemble, venue, city even. International, and very easy to use. iPhone app also available.
Playing Debussy’s Piano Works. Useful analysis and performance directions of many of Debussy’s piano works by an advanced amateur pianist. I have found this site particularly useful during my study of the suite ‘Pour le Piano’. Links to other sites of interest as well.
Londonist.com. I follow Londonist on Twitter. Informative, interesting, amusing and sometimes just plain quirky posts about London. This week’s highlights have included a Royal Wedding themed pub-crawl, and things to do in London over the Easter holidays, as well as useful information about tube closures. A must for anyone who lives in the capital, or who visits it regularly. Listings, travel information, guides.
GretchensPianos. Gretchen and I follow one another on Twitter, and regularly comment on each other’s blog posts. A collaborative pianist and voice-coach based in the US, Gretchen blogs on many aspects of pianism, teaching, and performance. Her posts are pithy and insightful. Worth a visit.
All Piano. Another great blog by US-based pianist and teacher, Catherine Shefski. Interesting and varied posts, and useful resources and links for teachers.
Piano Addict. Gail Fischler is a private and college piano teacher based in Arizona. Her site is chock-full of interesting articles, links, and resources for teachers. She is also founder of The Musical Adjectives Project, where she has kindly displayed the word cloud created by my students!
Slipped Disc. Blog of Norman Lebrecht, writer and journalist on music and the arts. Norman is very active in the blogosphere, and on Twitter, has his finger on the cultural pulse, and is often the first to break musical news, such as the tragic situation at the Philadelphia Orchestra this week, or posing the question “Do you tweet at concerts?” and “Do you tweet during sex?”
Boulezian. Mark Berry is an avid and regular concert-goer, and, like me, aims to get a review out before the broadsheets. He writes insightfully about classical music and opera, and has an impressive blogroll of like-minded sites. I tend to read Mark’s reviews before anyone else’s.
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