Haydn'ed to Death

If you are one of the unfortunate many whose early music training included heavy doses of Haydn you may have reacted as I did, by throwing out every note of it you ever possessed, vowing never to touch the stuff. 

Then, if you are one of the fortunate few to have awakened one day, as I did, to the wealth of drama in his every note, you cannot ever hear it out—there is always more to be experienced in every piece.

“I could probably say that during my long life I have heard a great deal of music.  Well, when I hear Haydn, I have the impression of discovering something new.  If interpreted the way it deserves, great music really is rich enough to retain its ‘novel’ character and to let desire grow in us to hear it again and again.” – Pablo Casals, quoted by Franz Eibner in the Preface to the Wiener Urtext edition of Haydn’s Piano Pieces. 

So, if you are young enough to value, as I do, the proximity of music in the clubs with a one drink minimum and a pitcher passed for voluntary support of the musicians, you may understand why I invite you to come hear Haydn (in the company of Bartok) under similar terms. 

Hearing First and Haydn

Assigning a work by Haydn to a child before the child is confident of the volatile nature of hearing is indulging in a ritual passing on of irrelevancy:  Just because the teacher never learned to listen is no excuse for assuming that the child does not care about sound.

Every true musician knows the extremely high standard of originality and suspense in any Haydn work.  The only way to tire of his music is by reverting to a kind of glossed-over non-listening associated with the worst child instruction, alas the rule when I was young with little sign of significant change to this day.

Listening as the Basis for Learning

I knew long ago that if ever I founded a music school its main focus would be on listening, not on technical achievement, for it has always seemed to me that if young people are encouraged to listen in a holistic manner they will recognize the qualities that make music irresistible and will need no requirements to ensure that they study thoroughly.

Ear training is the opposite of listening, for it is devoted to naming what one hears, identifying tones. intervals, and themes--a process that  restricts listening in the larger sense.  An example: When the student listens for the theme it becomes irrelevant that it is now in a different key, i.e., in an altered resonance environment.  The alteration is the real subject, not "the" theme.

I find it particularly annoying that such over-simplifications are typical of teaching at the earliest stages, when it is most crucial that concepts do not block perceptions.

Listening For Rather than To

I should and maybe will write a book on the subject of siblings of the talented.  Though I know there is no such thing as a category of human being, I have begun to think that this is a special category, entitled to some respect and attention.

One of the most precise listeners I have ever taught is one of the least naturally musically talented.  His younger sister, both severely developmentally challenged and blind, has a musical capacity that is astonishing even given its limitations.  This older brother listens for every small sign of content coming from the disabled sister and extends that quality of attentive, almost devotional listening to every note he plays himself.

The desire to play, to have what comes naturally to the other one, no matter what kind or extent of effort is required is truly noteworthy.

I have seen it before.  Years ago I had dinner with a couple of psychologists who were celebrating passing their certification exams.  One, new to me, made more noise than anyone I had ever seen.  I telephoned her the next day to ask if she had ever studied music.  Silence.  Her older brother had been the talented one in the family and there was not enough money for her to have lessons; she had always craved music in her life. "What do I do?"  she asked.  Cut your nails, get a piano, and give me a call.   She did.

Frederico Busoni, Another Great Teacher

The second memorable phrase that has inspired me for many years I found in Great Pianists on Piano Playing, a compendium of essays by prominent pianists of the day (1917), now reprinted by Dover.    Frederico Busoni wrote: "All technical exercises must be given to the pupil with great discretion and judgment just as poisonous medicines must be administered to the patient with great care."

What respect for the hand, for the ear, for the student's imagination!

Schnabel the Teacher

Artur Schnabel once famously said: "First hear, then play."   Figuring out what he might have meant has taken me quite a while, not only in terms of my own playing but also exploring whether it is possible to train children to give priority to listening.

One of the critical aspects of this admonition is its implication that passive hearing is irrelevant.  In a way it implies a rewording: Hearing is more important than playing. 

If you agree you certainly would not dream of going through the motions of playing, doing the kind of exercises some pianists (the late Charles Rosen, among others) boast they practice while reading novels.

When I listen to anyone play I figure out first of all whether they are listening first.  If they aren't, I leave, regardless of the ticket price.

Listening as an Animal Listens for Danger

The Deagan Chime Company was located just a few blocks away from my childhood home on Paulina St. in Chicago.  That the chimes ringing every quarter-hour had anything to do with telling time was beyond me as a small child.  I was fascinated by that four-part melody: Why did it stop there?  was my question.  When was it going to come back?

I believe this atmospheric involvement with a much-loved sound was the model for my life of listening for meaning.