Monthly Archives: January 2013

Sight read no jumps

I was fortunate enough to gain a place as a chorister in a parish church at the age of eight, and received five years of the most wonderful musical training. In fact, there was a series of very specific tests which we were expected to work through, and success was rewarded with a coloured drawing pin on a chart. Wow! (Actually, I was hooked from day one!)

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More specifically, there were 7 blue, 15 red, 5 green and 5 purple tests. The blue ones were along the lines of ‘read a hymn’ (Immortal, invisible, God only wise,
In light inaccessible hid from our eyes!), sing a scale G to G etc – all things which a seven/eight year old needed to get to grips with if he was going to progress to becoming a ‘full chorister.’ It was a very simple system, but the tests became increasingly demanding – I can’t remember what any of the purple ones were, but they were probably along the lines of ‘process down the nave of the church with a candle in one hand, whilst sight-reading the alto line of Stanford in G with the music upside down!’

However, I do remember several red ones, including ‘sight-read no jumps’. Our assistant choirmaster, Mr Baker, would draw a stave, a treble clef, and a major scale from middle C to top G, on the back of a scrap of paper. All that was required was to be able to sing up and down the scale, by step, as he pointed to each note, but changing direction occasionally. The aural equivalent of going up or down a ladder, one rung at a time. Looking back, we must have learned

  • the ‘sound world’ of the major scale
  • where the tones and semitones were
  • that next door notes move either from line to space, or from space to line

Not too tricky once you got the hang of it, but nevertheless something which needed practise and familiarity. Sight-read jumps, on the other hand, was fiendish, and the test board, all neatly organised in rows and columns, had a notably empty column under this heading – the few boys with a red drawing pin at this point were held in great esteem, and quite rightly! In short, if you can do this, you can do anything, and I do mean that quite sincerely.

Sight read no jumps is not difficult, but I believe that it is necessary for all musicians to practise it and master it. I regularly encounter young musicians (and also older ones) who quite simply can’t sing from one note to the next. I find it difficult to allow them to justify why not – scales are the alphabet which we work with, and we must have a basic working knowledge of the scale. They might not like it, but when I ask my piano pupils to sing a musical line in lessons, they know that I’m serious and they just get on with it. After all, the ears need just as much training as the fingers.

Are you answering the right question?

According to Daniel Kahneman, when posed with a difficult question, we can have a tendency to substitute an easier question and answer that one instead. Without noticing!

questionmarkIf that sounds unlikely, consider the way in which some children tackle their music practice. “I still can’t play this section, so what am I going to do to solve the problem? I know, I’ll practise it slowly (like my teacher has told me to!)” This student might be praised for having a considered approach to his practice, and also for following his teacher’s advice. The trouble is, if as a pianist he has chosen poor fingering which really doesn’t work, no amount of slow practice is going to solve the problem. Sadly, what he has actually done is find a much easier answer to the wrong question.

I have written before on the subject of developing an enquiring mind, which I believe to be vital if our pupils are ultimately to stand on their own two feet as musicians. To practise effectively, students need to learn not only to ask questions, but to ask the right questions, time and time again.

I find it helpful to consider all of the potential decisions into an imaginary flow chart, which might include questions such as:

  • Does this passage need work?
  • Where exactly is it going wrong?
  • What, exactly, is the problem – wrong note, technical issue etc
  • Can I try something different?
  • Does this new method make it better, worse, no difference?
  • Have I fixed the problem now, or do I need to find some more questions?

The point is that just one question – “is it getting better?” – is not enough. The right question is “how do I improve it?” – this question has the potential to generate many more questions and even more answers. And it takes ‘effortful mental activity’  (‘system 2’ thinking) to ask these, and even more of the same to ensure that the correct solutions are pursued. Our pupils need to realise that the decision-making required here is constant, and we need to be modelling this for them constantly too. In short, practice is demanding, but with this degree of purposefulness it can also be extremely rewarding.

We need to teach our pupils to think like this. I often tell my pupils that I consider that my role is to teach them to think, not to play the piano! That’s not strictly true, but actually the ability to think for themselves will be far more helpful to them than just knowing how to play a piece of music. How much do they gain if I, the teacher, am the one who has worked out for them how to solve all of the potential difficulties along the way? Very little I think. Once a student knows how to make constructive decisions which can guide their practice so that it is productive, they will fly –  and not just in their musical studies but in everything, since these skills are of course transferable. And we are being told that Music is not an ‘academic’ subject – how ridiculous.

British Kodály Academy Spring Course

From 2-5 April this year, the British Kodály Academy will be holding its annual Spring Course. There is a wealth on information on their website, which this year is aimed specifically at conductors and singers. 4 April includes a concert given by the London Adventist Chorale. I attended the course two years ago, and for me the daily musicianship lessons were the undoubtedly the highlight. The Hungarian tutors in particular bring a very different view to musicianship training than anything which I have seen before, and those few days not only inspired the tone deaf project and the Choir who can’t sing, but have had a long lasting effect on all aspect of my teaching ever since.

BKAI am a huge fan of the Kodály Method, at the centre of which is an emphasis on the development of our inner hearing; that is, the ability to hear notes or music inside our heads without the need to play or sing.

When I first learned to read, I remember very well having to say the words out loud as I read them. My twin sister, on the other hand, had by this stage already learned to read the words silently in her head. [She was also way ahead of me when it came to tying shoelaces!] At the time this was a difficult concept for me to get to grips with, and I had genuine difficulty in believe that she could actually read in this way! Now, with years of practice behind me, and like many other people, I guess I take it for granted.

Read this sentence out loud: “It ought to be no surprise to you that, on reading this sentence out loud, it sounds just the same as how it sounds in your head when you read it silently.” Now imagine how strange it would be if you didn’t actually know what the words sounded like until you read them out loud.

But this is exactly what many students do when it comes to music – they have little or no idea what the notes will sound like until their instrument produces the sound for them. For me, this is all the wrong way around! The instrumentalist should be able to look at the score and be able to hear the sounds on the page – and then when they play, the notes which sound come as confirmation of what they expected, and not as a complete surprise: “Oh, that’s what it sounds like!”

The implications of this are far-reaching. How does a violinist know whether she is playing in tune if she has no idea of what pitches she should actually be playing? Without inner hearing, she has no point of reference. How does a student know, when he is learning a new piece of music, whether he is playing it right or not? If his only point of reference is having his fingers in the right place, where is the musician in this process?

I guess the big question is this: Would you like to be able to look at a piece of music and be able to hear it, inside your head, in the same way as you can with words? If the answer is yes, then a Kodály course is for you! This is a skill which can be learned, in just the same way as we learn to read silently. Not in five minutes, or even five days, but it is something which our young musicians should be learning, and can learn – all of them. And even some older ones too. It isn’t a mystery, or some gift which some have and others don’t – it is a skill which comes as a result of some serious hard graft and determination. It is also, in my opinion, the best skill which any musician can possess. And it is, of course, empowering.

Note-learning – why we don’t like it!

In his book Thinking, Fast and Slow, Daniel Kahneman presents the idea that we have two systems for thinking – System 1 is effortless and intuitive (fast), whilst System 2 relies on deductive reasoning (slow). Although I have not yet finished this extraordinary book (which appears also to have some leanings towards economics, which is most definitely not my field), this concept has been a revelation to me in terms of the light which it might shed on studying music, and in particular on how we practise.

In recent weeks I have asked many colleagues, friends and pupils to answer the sum 17 x 24, out loud. Several have declined even without trying: “I couldn’t do that.” Eavesdropping on others whilst they have multiplied, stored and carried their way to the answer (not always the right answer!) has been very enlightening; there is no doubt that mental arithmetic requires our undivided cogitation, even for the few who took on the challenge with no fuss. Kahneman’s suggestion that our System 2 is essentially ‘lazy’ seems to me to carry a lot of weight – most people would rather do something which comes more easily!

Is it any surprise then, that given the prospect of learning new notes, many pupils conveniently find something else to do instead?! Note-reading requires  a great deal of mental effort not only in reading pitch and rhythm, but in co-ordinating the body and at the same time trying to assess, via ears, fingers and intellect, whether we have it right or not. Having opened the score, some pupils will find it hard even to begin, whilst others might make a reluctant start but give up once they realise the scale of the task ahead. Maybe perfecting the first page would be more fun after all…!

For a long while now I have encouraged my pupils to think about three stages of practice. Stage One Practice is note-learning.  However reluctant, just a few new notes learned every day will make in-roads into the piece which the student is learning, as well as practising reading skills of course. Stage Two Practice is consolidating our recent note-learning. Once we are familiar with something, even if we only encountered it yesterday, we tend to regard it with less suspicion! Music which was new yesterday is altogether more approachable today. Stage Three Practice is refining music with which we are now quite familiar, and might even be considered playtime!

Stage One Practice is, of course, System 2 stuff – that is, hard work on the brain. By the time we get to Stage Three Practice, however, we are moving very much more towards relying on our intuition. Expert intuition can be learned, in as much as we can become so familiar with something that we just know it. Once at this level, the tough cognitive work is behind us, and things come easily. Don’t be fooled into thinking that Stage Three Practice is easy – far from it – but in pure cognitive terms it is less demanding than the early note-learning stages.

Just being aware of this concept is surprisingly helpful. I actually like learning new notes, but sometimes, especially if I’m tired, I prefer to work on more familiar repertoire. And with some students, knowing that there are aspects of practice are potentially very demanding might alter the way in which we approach helping them; sometimes it’s not just a question of time spent, but actually breaking through the initial mental barrier to take it on at all.

In the wider context, pupils who develop the habit of learning new notes every day, and are therefore readily prepared to think hard and problem solve, are surely more likely to use these transferable skills in other areas of their learning too. It strikes me as an excellent habit to be cultivating.

Fantasy Piano Recital

As a piano student, I was never taught to memorise music – in my ignorance, I think I just assumed that it was something which you could either do or you couldn’t, and since I couldn’t, I didn’t. I suspect that I was also guilty of going to piano recitals  and singularly failing to observe what I now believe to be an extraordinary feat, that of memorising a whole recital programme with apparent ease. This, coupled with the equally extraordinary technical and musical mastery which the world’s finest pianists also command, makes me wonder whether the sharing out of gifts sometimes seems a little unfair!

With this in mind, a recent article in The New York Times, which suggests that playing with the score is more acceptable these days, couldn’t have come at a worse time for me! For me, being a real pianist means all of the above, and having just discovered (okay, perhaps a little late in life!) that actually I can memorise, I don’t need to hear just now that maybe it’s not so important after all.

Learning to memorise is difficult, and requires a methodical approach with reference to the technical, aural, harmonic and visual, to name just a few of the many strands which come together to form a system which is utterly reliable. Plus determination, self-belief, perseverance, time and a great deal of hard work. I am not for a moment suggesting that pianists who play with the music are not able to convey great musicianship; it’s just that I am looking for that artistic freedom which comes from knowing the score completely. And if it proves difficult? I’ll find a way, but can’t is not an option for me. [link here to an excellent blog by Mel Spanswick on the same subject.]

In order to force my own arm on the issue, I have set myself the challenge of preparing for an ABRSM diploma this year. Candidates are required to give a 35 minute recital; memory is not a requirement, but I am adding this self-imposed element to the challenge. My ultimate objective – to be a better pianist. And along the way I am increasingly awed by those pianists who hold so much music in their heads!

He is my proposed recital programme:

Bach Prelude & Fugue in g minor (Bk 1), BWV 861
Beethoven Sonata in c minor, op.10 no.1 complete
Schubert Impromptu in G flat, D.899 no.3
Fauré Impromptu op.31 no.2 in f minor
Stravinsky Piano-Rag-Music

To help in my preparation, and in particular to gain further insights into possible interpretations, I would love some ideas for a Fantasy Piano Recital. Please feel free to nominate your preferred pianist for each of the works above ie. Bach – Glenn Gould, Beethoven – Barenboim etc. I look forward to hearing your ideas.

 

[subsequent progress reports here and here!]