CHAPTER 4
GENERAL APPROACHES TO PRACTICING
The most basic and essential ingredient for effective practicing is
the ability to provide accurate feedback on one's performance:
It is a common assumption that learning is improved merely through
the "repetition" of an act. Were it not for reinforcement,
the mere act of practice alone ought not change performance at all.
When practice does not improve a performance, it is not for the reasons
usually described. The "mere act" of practicing in itself
does not insure the improvement of a skill. There are many cases to
illustrate this fact among those students who slave for hours at a given
work without any improvement. In an artistic skill such as music, extremely
fine discriminations in the execution of an act make important differences
in the consequences. Thus, out of variability in the performances that
occur through repetition (practice), the job of the teacher or the student
himself is to reinforce - to the degree that he is able - those acts
of performance that he considers to be superior to the others. If he
can not do this, there is no reason to believe the performance will
improve.
To recognize these superior acts of performance in the practice room,
the student must be able to listen to himself discriminately and objectively.
Galamian believes that most students tend to hear what they would like
to hear and not what actually comes out of the instrument. For practice
to be of any value, the student must learn how to listen objectively:
To train the ear for objective listening is of the greatest importance
in order to be able to hear the sound as the audience would hear it
and to free oneself from the flattering fallacies of the subjective
ear. The ability for honest, objective hearing is the most essential
prerequisite for efficient practice.
The problem of providing accurate feedback is actually a twofold one.
First, the student must have a clear concept of how he would like to sound.
Traditionally, students have developed this concept by listening to concerts
and recordings of great artists. These activities help the student learn
what superior playing is and thus, provide a model to which he can compare
himself. The second half of the problem consists of making comparisons
that are accurate. To do this, the student will have to heed Galamian's
advice and learn to listen to himself objectively. Although Galamian does
not offer any methods for effectively training the ear in this area, an
awareness of the problem and a conscious effort to overcome it is likely
to lead to success over a period of time. However, an excellent resource
for developing these listening skills is the tape recorder.
Tape recorder
By taping himself, the student can be removed from the act of performing
and therefore evaluate his playing more objectively:
The tape recorder, another practice aid of great value, is most obviously
applied to self-evaluation. Regardless of the relative quality of the
recorder, speakers and other components, students can discern (and judge)
the basic elements of intonation, rhythm, clarity and phrasing, etc.
in their playing.
Since the student's ability to identify problems even in this context
will still depend on the level of his musicianship, the teacher's assistance
is recommended:
The widespread use of tape recorders in music education can benefit
the learning process. Simply playing a tape of a student's performance
is good, and the aural feedback is made even more positive if the teacher
reviews and critiques the tape with the student.
The serious problem in providing feedback occurs when the student is
practicing in the absence of the teacher. Knowing that practice, lacking
in feedback, is insufficient, teachers should encourage students to tape
practice sessions for later spot-check review by both teacher and student.
The taping of entire practice sessions would also provide both the
student and the teacher with an opportunity to evaluate the student's
practicing methods:
Tape every practice session. At first, the students will be amazed
to hear their uncanny talent for wasting time, making careless repetitive
mistakes and just plain getting nowhere. The recording will reveal
many mistakes and bad playing habits that they may not have realized.
Often students never understand their teacher's criticism until they
hear themselves on tape.
Since the time spent in the practice room can be as much as doubled through
the process of listening to the tape, this technique may not be practical
on a regular basis. Taping and listening to an entire practice session
should be done from time to time for the purpose of evaluating the efficiency
of the student's practicing techniques. On a more regular basis, the student
should tape short segments of the session for immediate review. A particularly
helpful exercise is to pick out a section of a piece, record and listen
to it, try some changes in interpretation, re-record, and then repeat
the cycle until satisfied with the result.
The tape recorder can also be helpful in the reed-making process. In
the finishing stages when final adjustments to the reed are being made,
it can be difficult for the bassoonist to know how a reed will sound to
the audience. The tape recorder can help develop the student's understanding
of what his reeds must sound like on stage if they are to project a desirable
tone to the audience.
Inner hearing
The development of listening skills is important not only for providing
feedback, but also for creating a sense of "inner hearing".
In his book on playing the piano, Kochevitsky outlines the relationship
between the ear, brain, and muscles in the learning of music. Although
his explanation is too detailed to relate entirely, his conclusions are
worth repeating. His principal point about the function of inner hearing
is that:
It is of extreme importance that from the very beginning of music study
this connection be established thus: visual-auditory-motor, instead
of, as usually happens, visual- motor. The motor response should not
be a direct reaction to visual stimulation. The latter should go through
the auditory center and only then provoke the motor response.
In the scheme see - hear inwardly - move - hear actually - control,
the second link of this chain, being a conditional stimulus, will call
forth the movement which produces the sound. This result is immediately
checked by the attentive ear and evaluated. So, in circular fashion,
this functional relationship is preserved all the time the pianist is
active at his instrument.
During the practice of technical passages when concentration is focused
on establishing correct finger patterns, the student should pay particular
attention to hearing the notes inwardly before playing them, "otherwise
the technique can become an end in itself."
Mental practice
The ability to hear inwardly is also an important aspect of an area of
practice that is receiving increasing attention and popularity, that of
mental practice. Mental practice is the "cognitive rehearsal of a
skill that takes place within the individual, in the absence of any gross
muscular movements." As it pertains to music:
Mental practice is the symbolic or imaginary rehearsal of performance
activities without observable movement or sound. In music it is the
mental repetition of a given task without the instrument. In brief,
it means to practice silently.
In silent practicing, the music is heard and rehearsed inwardly. This
type of practicing can be used in a number of ways to work on different
aspects of performance. Kohut recognizes two types of mental practice:
There are actually two types of mental practice. the first involves
using our imagination (conscious brain) to formulate positive mental
images of ourselves accurately doing specific musical tasks. The other
type of mental practice involves training the unconscious brain to efficiently
process and organize information (goals specified by the conscious brain)
and transform it into specific nerve signals to the muscles. In this
context mental practice is directed toward development of neuromuscular
coordination.
The first type, imagery, is advocated by many for increasing concentration,
calming the nerves, and quieting the mind. With this technique, also called
visualization, every detail of the performance should be imagined. Agrell
relates how this method can be helpful:
Besides establishing an unhindered mental flow through the piece of
music, the mental rehearsal of visualization also activates the physical
responses - the fingering, breathing, phrasing. Even though these movements
are slight, they nevertheless reinforce the use of particular nerve
pathways, just as actual practice does. And better, you can visualize
your playing of the piece - with practice - as smooth, relaxed, and
without error. In this way you literally program yourself to play it
as you wish, just as fears and doubts program error.
Visualization quiets the language-using part of the mind (responsible
for fear and doubt, which produce tension) and speaks to the body in its
mother tongue: images. Agrell illustrates with an example for french hornists
that is equally pertinent to bassoon playing. To practice attacking a
note cleanly and accurately, he suggests using a kind of visualization
ceremony in which the player imagines the details of the action, such
as:
. . .watching the approach of the passage, deep breath, position of
the tongue, set embouchure and mouthpiece pressure, release of air,
support of air column - clumsy in words, but smooth and fluid as a visualization,
and easy to practice without the horn.
Kohut's second type of mental practice is used in the learning of specific
performance problems in pieces. As a student mentally hears the music,
electromyographic studies have shown that "nerve signals actually
travel from the unconscious brain to the muscles." Therefore, the
correct pathways to the fingers can be reinforced without actual contact
with the instrument.
Because of this transmission of nerve impulses during mental practice
and the importance of hearing the composition inwardly before playing,
many musicians believe that a piece should be studied and analyzed mentally
before beginning any physical practice: "only after a player knows
the music visually and aurally, should he begin practicing it with the
instrument." In this way, correct aural stimuli will be established
at the outset and the likelihood of accuracy in playing will be increased
significantly.
After physical practice has begun, the student may also find it helpful
to mentally practice isolated difficult passages or entire compositions.
During the repetitive work of learning the technical aspects of a piece,
it is important to also mentally rehearse the music so that the musical
conception is not lost:
The whole composition which is being studied should be read mentally
from time to time. We must remember Busoni's warning that one easily
forgets about the musical meaning during the motor work at the piano.
By mental reading without actual playing we can revive the clear acoustic
picture of the composition in our mind and are stimulated in our efforts
to master it technically.
Besides, while reading silently one notices better what is written
around the notes - the many important signs which might not have been
observed during actual playing. As with anything stationary, visual
impressions of the printed page are engraved on the mind more easily,
accurately and with more stability than fleeting auditory ones.
The silent mental reading of a musical composition (or some section of
it if needed) often helps better than actual playing to unite separate
tones into meaningful musical lines. After perceiving the composition
in all its logical connections and successions, one is able to follow
inwardly the course of its sound in faster tempo, and thus play it as
fast as needed.
An additional advantage of mental practice is that it can be used at
any time or place. Many touring musicians rely on mental practice when
physical practice is not possible. Bassoonists may find it helpful to
mentally practice during ensemble rehearsals when other sections of the
group are being rehearsed or before concerts and recitals to refresh the
memory without tiring the embouchure.
Mental practice can also be interjected at any point within the practice
session. The few studies that have been done suggest that the best time
to use mental practice is someplace mid-way in the rehearsal: "results
showed that the mid-way period of (mental) rehearsal was superior to the
other forms of distributed rehearsal." In addition, the use of mental
practice at various points during the practice session can be useful in
providing the physical apparatus, the embouchure especially, with a brief
rest.
Research on mental practicing has been performed in many areas, especially
sports, and has been shown to be effective in many cases, especially when
used in conjunction with physical practice. Ross, as a result of his study
on the effects of mental practice on college trombonists, concluded that:
The use of mental practice, in combination with traditional physical
practice, would seem to be the most efficient and effective type of
practice. Undoubtedly, physical practice continues to play a crucial
part in muscular development and conditioning of instrumentalists. Nevertheless,
practice that combines mental and physical work should improve performance
over a short period of rehearsal.
He does caution that:
For the unskilled or inexperienced performer, however, the lack of
fundamental skills could pose serious problems. Conceivably, this type
of player might play worse after mentally practicing than in not practicing
at all; bad habits could be mentally rehearsed over and over, without
the necessary feedback to correct initial mistakes.
However, college instrumentalists on their principal instrument should
have enough skill to "internalize a very clear model of a perfect
performance during mental practice, even if he cannot yet perform in
this manner." Therefore, for them, mental practice can be a valuable
technique.
Preparing pieces for performance
Whole vs. part
When first working on a new piece the student will have to decide whether
to first work on isolated sections of the piece and then put them together
or to work on the whole composition at once. On the basis of a limited
amount of research data on the memorization of piano music Lundin concludes
that:
. . . the whole method may be an effective one so long as the amount
of material being learned is small. It is quite possible, as in other
learning studies, that a larger score of music will be most effectively
learned by the part method. Here the results agree fairly well with
those in other studies of learning. The method used will depend on the
size, difficulty, and meaning of the material to be memorized as well
as the performance level of the subjects involved.
Lundin's rather vague statements would indicate that only relatively
short pieces should be approached by the whole method. Whole practice
is necessary at times for obtaining a broad view of the piece and for
establishing continuity between sections. Unfortunately, the technical
difficulties of a work may require the student to take a tempo so slow
that the overall conception will be lost. Also, to efficiently learn the
most problematic sections, the student will often need to repeat these
small sections alone many times. Therefore, many musicians advocate the
use of some combination of whole and part practice. For instance, Newman
believes that "small-section practice should serve largely as a means
of final polishing" and therefore recommends beginning practice of
a piece "with the over-all view so as to put the practicing into
perspective - that is, it is better to go through the entire piece or
movement and include everything at once, from fingering to dynamics."
When section practice is used, Newmann suggests the following approach:
He who begins by trying to perfect the first line, then the next, and
so on, usually ends up with the beginning sounding fine, the middle
fair, and the ending weak, to say the least. If anything, the ending
should sound best, since it leaves the last impression. By practicing
the entire piece, beginning on page 3 on Tuesday if page 2 marked the
end of Monday's practice, the effort will be evenly distributed.
Following similar logic, Madsen recommends learning pieces from the end
to the beginning so that when the piece is performed, the student will
be proceeding into more and more familiar territory rather than the other
way around. Cerone adds one further bit of justification for additional
practice at the end of a piece:
Practice the ends of pieces with special attention. Very often "the
horse smells the stable" and that otherwise spotless performance
is marred by a rather substantial act of carelessness right at one of
the most climactic moments.
Section practice is most often used to learn problem spots, but Jones
recommends using this technique only if other methods have failed:
The disadvantage of this practice method is that it requires a passage
to be labeled a trouble area, and this may remain as a stigma in the
performer's mind even if the passage has been carefully practiced and
the problem seemingly solved. During the pressure of performance, uneasiness
and insecurity may appear in just such passages.
It is likely that the student will identify and label difficult passages
as such before section practice begins and will need to practice them
separately in order to reduce the student's insecurity over them. Nevertheless,
overpractice of a particularly difficult passage without evidence of
significant improvement can increase the stigma associated with it,
in which case, some other tactic should be tried.
The bassoonist will have to experiment with different distributions of
whole and section practice as he tries to achieve an effective approach
to learning new pieces.
Slow practice
Almost every article written on practicing mentions the value of slow
practice. Many students attempt to play their music at performance tempos
too soon and often "need to be reminded that before one can be expected
to run, one first needs to learn how to roll over, crawl, then stand up
and walk steadily." In more scientific terms, neurologist Frank Wilson
explains that the cerebellum is the active part of the brain during the
learning of coordinated muscular activity and that:
. . .it assumes that any repetitive activity in the muscular system
is being repeated because the conscious mind is trying to make it automatic.
The cerebellum will be just as efficient an automatizer of incorrect
sequences of timing as of those that are correct. When practicing takes
place at a pace too fast for accurate playing, there is very little
chance for the material to be mastered, and reliable, confident performance
simply will not occur.
Slow practice can be valuable at any point in the learning process,
but it is particularly important in the initial stages of learning a work
in insuring that only correct responses are learned. As a new work becomes
more familiar and the note patterns more automatic, the tempo can be increased
without as much danger of errors occurring. Wilson actually states that
"it is probably true that practice for speed is seldom necessary.
The cerebellum can supply all the speed wanted if patterning is correct
during practice." However, most musicians believe that some practice
at fast tempos is essential. Violinist, Robert Gerle admits that slow
practice is important, but adds that:
A piece practised slower than its proper tempo is a different piece.
The only way to get a true idea of a piece and its problems is to play
it in its performance tempo, even in the early stages of learning. The
tempo in which a passage has to be played, the speed with which any
of the motions has to be executed, are essential and specific elements
of the technique involved in its performance.
After these bowings and fingerings have been solidified by slow practice,
the passage, and the whole piece, have to be practised again in the
final tempo in order to learn the appropriate physical motions and mental
impulses at their proper speed.
The effect fast playing has on the conception and the technical problems
of a piece are just as significant on the bassoon as the violin. Many
fingering combinations on the bassoon, especially those involving the
thumb, are useable at slower tempos, but impossible at faster tempos.
When selecting fingerings and making decisions about the use of techniques
such as flicking, the bassoonist must be aware that the performance tempo
may prohibit certain choices. The experienced bassoonist may be able to
anticipate these situations and make the correct choice without experimentation,
but the student who is still seeking the most efficient approach for a
particular problem may find it helpful to practice more than one fingering
possibility before becoming locked into one which may fail at the faster
tempo. As the student becomes comfortable with each fingering sequence,
the tempo can be increased until it becomes apparent which combination
will work best.
Since slow practice "allows the student to listen and evaluate a
performance more easily and accurately and to concentrate on and become
more aware of kinesthetic sensations in the body," it can be used
effectively to work on the musical details of a piece and to refresh the
brain's perception of the muscle movements. During fast passages, the
mind's attention is often focused on the technical problems presented
and not on the musical phrasing. Slow practice will permit the student
to concentrate on the musical shape of the line until that becomes as
automatic as the fingerings.
Some musicians suggest combining the most effective elements of both
fast and slow practice to give the student the "advantage of practising
the crucial motions in tempo to the one of having time to think."
The combining of slow and fast practice refers to a technique where every
finger movement is made quickly and decisively as if in the performance
tempo, but is preceded by a short pause to give the mind time to think
through the process. One of the advantages of this technique is that the
length of the pauses can be varied to suit the difficulty of the finger
movement. Eventually, as the student masters a difficult passage, the
pauses can reduced until eliminated.
Gyorgy Sandor advocates a related type of practicing in which the student
plays everything as fast as he can control. Problematic passages will
necessarily need to be practiced more slowly, resulting in "totally
uneven metric values because the amount of time it takes to master each
note or passage varies with its difficulty!" This "uneven"
practicing saves time in getting the student through the easier material
quickly and also forces him to concentrate more intently. Although Sandor
certainly does not advocate uneveness in performance, the student should
be warned that its overuse could result in uneven performance if not done
in conjunction with other practicing techniques.
For the later stages of the learning of a piece, Jones a compromise, "three-quarter"
tempo which may at least partially provide the benefits of both slow and
fast practice:
This procedure requires the music to be played at just the point in
tempo where difficulties begin to be evident. The performer can cope
with his temporary musical inadequacies more easily at this tempo than
at a tempo in which the playing is completely out of control.
This technique allows the student to get a better grasp of the work as
a whole while maintaining good control of the technical aspects. "Three-quarter
speed" practice can be particularly useful for maintaining a work
that has been mastered and must be kept ready for a period of time.
One final method of practice is advocated by Gerle and others:
It is also a good idea to practise fast passages faster than concert
tempo (and slow ones slower) in order to build up an extra margin of
safety above and beyond the tempo of the performance.
Kochevitsky
The stage influences nervous activity greatly and makes much greater
requirements. Therefore, in preparing for a concert performance, the pianist
should constantly keep in mind that he has to create a kind of reserve:
in his tempo limits (always being able to play faster than he plans to
play in concert) and in his ability to regulate the timing of his motor
acts and the volume of his tone.
The tendency of many students to play faster in performance than in practice
provides further grounds for creating a tempo reserve, but the student
should be careful not to start perceiving the faster tempo as correct.
The conscientious use of a metronome to maintain a feeling for the desired
tempo is critical.
The use of slow practice is unquestionably a valuable technique and
should be used frequently, both during the learning stages of a work and
also afterwards. The student should experiment with the different applications
of slow practice that have been presented to determine which ones work
best for him.
Practicing musically
In learning new pieces, students must spend a fair amount of time working
out technical problems. Although these problems are generally mechanical
in nature, many musicians maintain that they should not be practiced in
a mechanical way. Leon Fleisher presents the following argument for "musical"
practice:
It has been my experience that if, for example, you take a passage
in a piece of music that is difficult and you work on it purely as technique
- mechanically, from a mechanical point of view - and master it from
a mechanical point of view, the moment you begin to superimpose your
conception, you, in quotes, "expression," which consists of
crescendos, diminuendos, and all that kind of thing, this mechanical
structure you have built up collapses. It will not withstand, it will
not support the weight of the conception. I think the way to conquer
this problem is this; even in the slow practice of a technically difficult
place you must practice it with all that you are going to put into it
later - the same kind of expression, the same kind of dynamics, the
same inner tension and relaxation.
Although Galamian admits that some purely mechanical practicing may be
necessary in the preliminary stages of learning a piece, he agrees with
Fleisher on the importance of adding musical expression to the practicing:
The necessity for adding musical playing to analytical dissection of
difficulties is well demonstrated by a phenomenon that can be observed
time and time again. A student practices a difficult passage from a
piece. He analyzes it properly, transforms it into well-devised exercises,
and finally masters it technically. Yet when he plays the whole piece
this same passage fails to come off properly and sometimes even breaks
down completely. How can this be explained? The answer lies in the entirely
different conditions of mind and muscles in the playing of a passage
as an exercise and in playing it as part of a musical composition. In
the complete rendition, the addition of vibrato, the concern for expression,
for nuance and dynamics, all add entirely new elements that were not
present when the passage was segregated for the cold technical study.
These additional factors disturb the smooth functioning of the practiced
passage. This is not the fault of the mechanical approach, which is
still the indispensable first step in overcoming technical difficulties
in pieces. What has been overlooked is the fact that after this first
step has been taken and the passage has been mastered from a purely
technical point of view, it must be practiced again as a piece of music,
in the context of a larger section and with the expression that is its
due. Only then has one a right to expect that the isolated section can
be successfully integrated again into the piece and made to grow together
with the rest of the work without showing a seam or a scar.
The case stated by Fleisher and Galamian is indisputable and probably
sufficient testimony that "musical" practice is beneficial,
but Kochevitsky offers further reason to practice in this manner. He hypothesizes
that a more musical approach to practicing and a more acute sense of inner
hearing can often lead to the solution of technical difficulties:
Dexterity develops through musical awareness. Inexpedient movements
are not the cause of technical deficiency, but one of its symptoms.
To know the sense and purpose of a movement is the first condition for
its natural flow. Consequently, technical practice should always be
joined with musical practice, with study of interpretation.
Each difficult technical problem should be examined and approached
from different points of view. Each time an intricate passage is repeated,
its execution demands a new adaptation, and so acquiring technique appears
as adjustment. Repetition, instead of dull drilling, now becomes a trial
solution, a trial always rationally prepared. "If you had to open
the door and had the wrong key it would only spoil the lock and the
key if you tried it a hundred times. . .
"Try different keys until you find one which fits," said Egon
Petri.
Often the difficulty does not lie in the motor process itself, but
is hidden in the musical demands. The muscle sensation connected empirically
with purposeful movement is much more important for technical development
than the perception of movement form. Virtuosity is achieved, not because
of pre-established knowledge of the forms of movements, but thanks to
the practiced ability to anticipate the movement suitable to each given
case and convenient for each individual. And until there is a connection
between the inner musical imagination, the innervation of movement,
muscular sensations, and careful and critical listening to the results,
no form of movement is of practical value.
The unequivocal message from these musicians is to practice musically,
not mechanically.
Practice performing
An area of practice that is often neglected by students is that of practicing
for the performance itself. Since the student must spend so much time
preparing for a performance, he should be careful not to risk spoiling
the performance through inattention to what may seem like minor details.
The following excerpts are quoted almost in their entirety because they
offer a variety of ideas for thorough performance preparation.
First, Robert Gerle's comments:
Conditions during a performance - both outside and within the performer
- are markedly different than those prevailing during practice.
Instead of the familiar surroundings of your own home, the concert
hall appears strangely unfamiliar; the comforting knowledge that a mistake
can be corrected and a passage repeated without the penalty of anybody's
judgment or disapproval (except your own), gives way to the desire to
please the audience. Memory, which works well in the solitude of a studio
may be distracted by unexpected sights and occurrences during the performance;
the different acoustical properties of the hall, and the way in which
we perceive them may cause us to play familiar works in an unfamiliar
manner; and, most importantly, our own inner reactions to the excitement
of the moment, the heightened emotional and muscular tension of an inspired
concert performance, in contrast to the relaxed objectivity of a practice
run-through, can transform the established premise of the whole playing
mechanism.
Ways must be found, therefore, to recreate these performance conditions,
and practice time set aside to prepare for them.
After the work on a new piece is well under way, but long before it is
finished, attempt a full-scale performance (even unaccompanied) in tempo,
and with all musical expression. This will show, before it is too late,
what technical and musical changes or improvements need still to be incorporated.
During such performance try-outs even try to imagine yourself at the actual
concert performance, complete with stage entrance, acknowledging the applause
of the audience (which may or may not include several persons known to
you), greeting the orchestra when appropriate, and trying the get the
'feeling' of the hall to induce, if possible, the excitement and quickened
pulse of the occasion.
Lastly, take time to practise in your performing attire. What you wear
at the concert can add yet another unfamiliar or restricting element.
Ladies should practise in high heels if they are going to wear them at
the concert, as such heels throw the body forward, changing its balance
and center of gravity. Men should practise in jacket and tie, not always
in shirt-sleeves: the thickness of the lapel and tie between player and
instrument can add as much as 8 mm to the length of the violin and makes
the location of every note that much further away than usual.
Cerone:
One general item worthy of consideration is that of greater formality
in the practice room. A case for better overall dress could be made
here. Practicing in neat, clean clothes certainly simulates the concert
hall experience much more closely than does practicing in overly casual,
possibly soiled or generally shabby attire. I always suggest to my students
that they try out their suit coat or dress well in advance of the performance
time to be assured that the fabric is not so slippery as to cause the
instrument to slide into an uncomfortable position, and to see that
buttons, jewelry, or other items do not contact the instrument causing
it to buzz or make some other unpleasant sound. Young ladies should
rough up the soles of new high heels to avoid unsure footing (especially
on a freshly waxed concert stage).
Tuning should be practiced.
Other distracting items to both performer and audience are awkward
stage entrances and exits, self-conscious bowing, and an amateurish
lack of composure (not knowing where to look or what to do) during rather
long tutti passages. Ill-timed page turns can be avoided with a little
planning and the possible use of a photo-copier.
All of the above items (these are only a few) can easily be addressed
and resolved in the practice room. I will go so far as to say that they
must be out of respect for the performer, the audience, and the composer.
It is simply a matter of good practice habits and, ultimately, secure
concert preparation.
Finally, Newman reiterates some of the above suggestions, but also discusses
the problem of concentration.
The student should make a special point of playing right through the
piece or program he hopes to present, without a stop, under conditions
as near to actual performance as can be attained, and once every day
for at least two weeks before the planned date. Otherwise he will be
dismayed to learn, as amateur choral and orchestral conductors so often
are, that those all- important factors of continuity, breathing spaces,
and perspective are still missing. The trouble usually is that the music
has been picked apart right up to the last minute. In some pieces, only
now will he learn that a real problem of muscular endurance exists,
calling for changes that minimize motions and save the strength. The
playing-through might well be the first thing done each day. A cold
performance is about as handicapped as a nervous one. To critical ears
it becomes a fair measure both of how ready a piece is and what spots
will need most practice that day. It can be still more realistic if
one imagines the recital atmosphere, complete even to a sample case
of nerves and all the motions from walking onto the stage to bowing
and walking off again.
Shortly before the day of performance, the student should go through
several dress rehearsals calling in a few obliging friends at a time.
Their criticisms may do a lot to put final touches on the playing. As
the music reaches its last stages of polishing, the student will notice
that the problem of concentration comes more and more to the fore. Not
only does he have to fight completely automatic memory but he also has
to conquer the problem merely of keeping his mind on what he is doing,
without letup, especially in a full-length suite or sonata. In most
pieces or movements, the pianist is rhythmically bound to keep going
without a break from the beginning to the end. Unlike the actor, who
is much less rigidly bound to tempo and has at least some relaxation
during the other actors; lines to be recalling his own, the pianist
has only the breathing spaces that his music permits - and he must make
the most of those breathing spaces. Daily performances without interruptions
for corrections or polishing gradually help him to locate the slight
breathing spaces or rest spots, which are as necessary to the intelligibility
of the musical design as they are for the playing. Then he can relax
where he used to be tense and he can get deeper and deeper into the
spirit of the music itself.
Although he is addressing his remarks to pianists for whom the problem
of finding resting places is critical, bassoonists, despite having opportunities
to rest during pieces, should adapt this advice to suit their needs such
as noting places when water can be blown out of the bocal or tone holes.
Preparing a new piece for performance
The following is a long range strategy for preparing a piece for performance.
It bears repeating in its entirety because it incorporates many previously
mentioned elements of practicing in a well organized and progressive manner.
The Concours (final exam) is only one month away. How does one prepare?
First read the piano score, vertically as well as horizontally. Solfege
(sight sing) the music precisely and with metronome (your indispensable
work companion). Analyze the piece: slow movements, fast movements.
Find out the tempi, the ritardandi, the accelerandi, the sensitive spots.
Now organize your work schedule. Divide your month into three ten-day
periods, planning the number of hours per day. Each practice session
must not exceed 45 minutes. One must never have sore lips, so in this
well-planned session one must use the greatest concentration.
FIRST TEN DAYS: Work slowly on the technical aspects; do not try to
play a rapid passage fast even if you feel capable of doing so. Let
yourself be taken over by an unconscious automatism regarding the fingers,
the brain. Furthermore, even at the slow tempi be extremely respectful
of the dynamics and the unity of the piece. If you slow a tempo of 144
mm to the quarter note by half, the values become twice as slow, and
this obviously includes the longer values. Take much care of the tone
quality; now is the time to have good reeds - at least ten. Place them
in a reed case where they will not become warped and dry. Classify them
in your order of preference. Play them every day. Think of the attacks,
that the tone comes easily, velvety. make real nuances; make them audible
to the listener; ppp - pp - mp - mf - f - ff - fff. Make sure that your
crescendi and diminuendi are progressive and even, and that the ritardandi
and accelerandi are logical (musical) and supple in the rhythm. And
don't spend all of your time on your main piece. Find the time to spend
a quarter hour daily on long tones and scales.
FROM THE ELEVENTH DAY; Increase the tempo of the rapid passages over
the next ten days. If the tempo is marked 144 to the quarter note, start
at 72 to the quarter, then 88, 92, 100, 108, 116, 126, 132, 138 to simply
achieve 144 to the quarter on the tenth day.
If a technical passage resists your good will, do it in rhythmical patterns
(I am a firm believer in this method, tensing and crisping the fingers,
but then!)
For the slow movements, think of expression. make each note interesting.
Initiate each phrase opening by supporting the air column. Give your
interpretation style clearly marked by the nuances. LIVE your music.
You should now have 2 or 3 reeds of prime choice; take good care of
them. Play them regularly.
ON THE TWENTIETH DAY: Work with less intensity. Do breathing exercises.
Review the fast tempi calmly. Practice regularly with your accompanist
because you should know your part and that of the piano, equally. Do
not count measures when you do not have to play. Listen and make your
entry in rhythm and in style. Play your solo piece three times in a
row visualizing the exam "situation". Try to see yourself
on THE day: see the members of the jury in front of you. this way of
going about it may seem much overdone but will bring, I truly believe,
surprising results.
You have now found your "solo reed". Leave it on the mouthpiece
so that it may find its true place and now "BONNE CHANCE".
|
