I used to fantasize what would now be called an art installation, which would require hundreds of participants carrying balloons on which were inscribed quarter notes, stationed on bridges, overpasses and other conspicuous public spots throughout the five boroughs of New York. At a given signal these identical balloons would be popped. The quarter note dead! Once and for all!
This is only one of my many unrealized projects. But think about it: You were probably taught, as I was, that all you had to do was count and rhythm would be in order.
Well, it never worked for me when I was young. As soon as actual vibrations collided with the beginnings and endings of those quarter notes of which I was supposed to be keeping track, everything fell into disarray.
This morning I observed that very disarray as the subject matter of the first five pieces in Schumann's Album for the Young. In Nos. 1, 3, and 5, he treats quarters in combination with eighths, with combined sounds of such variability as to require the kind of attention that can never pall. Playing those same pieces without that attentiveness makes them incomprehensibly dull. Nos. 2 and 4 are complete contrasts: The Soldier's March comprised of detached eighths followed by eighth rests - a highly articulated variation of that impossible quarter note, while Chorale is a study in unit rhythm based on spoken inflection, the true rhythm of plainsong-derived chorales.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Monday, January 6, 2014
Support the Blog in the New Year!
This blog is part of a larger picture of commitment to our changing needs in the light of our craving for music. You would not be reading this if we did not have that in common.
It is a big commitment and worthy of support. A structure exists to make it convenient to show your support: www.tonalrefraction.com will make it as simple as pressing a key on your computer--much more likely to yield a mutually satisfying result than a comparable action on a strange piano. ...
It is a big commitment and worthy of support. A structure exists to make it convenient to show your support: www.tonalrefraction.com will make it as simple as pressing a key on your computer--much more likely to yield a mutually satisfying result than a comparable action on a strange piano. ...
Schumann and the Half-Heard
I think of sound as occupying various physical states, like matter: solid, liquid, vapor, overtones being vapor. As such they cannot be written down; they have simply to be heard and responded to without being destroyed.
It is a feature of Schumann's music that he alternates between a kind of solid music that you recognize--a march, say, or a patriotic song; and music that is completely strange, perhaps because it evokes night or fairy tales. rather more liquid because in-between states. Sometimes he just combines sounds that make no sense except by listening to them within the indicated tempo (usually langsam), and dynamics, including the specified pedaling.
This sensation of half-heard always felt threatening to me and I would avoid it like the plague until I learned to listen to my students' intentions rather than to results that I felt compelled to have them obtain.
I now realize that the printed symbol is to blame, for it leads us to believe that every sound so indicated is equally solid.
It is a feature of Schumann's music that he alternates between a kind of solid music that you recognize--a march, say, or a patriotic song; and music that is completely strange, perhaps because it evokes night or fairy tales. rather more liquid because in-between states. Sometimes he just combines sounds that make no sense except by listening to them within the indicated tempo (usually langsam), and dynamics, including the specified pedaling.
This sensation of half-heard always felt threatening to me and I would avoid it like the plague until I learned to listen to my students' intentions rather than to results that I felt compelled to have them obtain.
I now realize that the printed symbol is to blame, for it leads us to believe that every sound so indicated is equally solid.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Overtones and Singing
Recently I saw a book in which two researchers had made spectographs of every sound in various compositions ranging from full orchestra to solo cello. The interesting thing in these scientifically produced pictures is that they reveal a frequency range that tests the limits of human hearing.
I learned about overtones from having spent many years accompanying singers. Every day in the life of a singer releases a new mixture of overtones; the voice is alive and constantly changing as if daring the pianist to adapt to these shifting timbres. Listening for pitch is far from simple.
Too many pianists play as if overtones did not matter. Rubinstein, the master of overtones, could build a crescendo that felt like infinitely increasing intensity because he knew how to manipulate resonance.
For me the basis of a solid piano technique is touch sensitive enough to touch overtones without turning them into real tones. This requires strength, agility, infinite adaptability, and total familiarity with the instrument one is playing. The result is tone that sings the way singers sing, i.e., with the variability intrinsic to a living creature.
I learned about overtones from having spent many years accompanying singers. Every day in the life of a singer releases a new mixture of overtones; the voice is alive and constantly changing as if daring the pianist to adapt to these shifting timbres. Listening for pitch is far from simple.
Too many pianists play as if overtones did not matter. Rubinstein, the master of overtones, could build a crescendo that felt like infinitely increasing intensity because he knew how to manipulate resonance.
For me the basis of a solid piano technique is touch sensitive enough to touch overtones without turning them into real tones. This requires strength, agility, infinite adaptability, and total familiarity with the instrument one is playing. The result is tone that sings the way singers sing, i.e., with the variability intrinsic to a living creature.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Music Inside and Out
Get the Music Inside to Match the Music Outside
Let your inner ear converse with the music you love
No matter how difficult, no matter
how easy,
music engages your innate sense of
musical logic
Playing a sonata need not be like climbing a mountain
“Mistakes”
can put you in touch with the composer
Technical
difficulties can become fascinating
You can learn to trust your own musical sense despite years
of obedient instruction.
Having worked since 1975 on validating the vital inner life
of hearing of pianists, chamber musicians, and singers, Nancy Garniez is offering
private instruction to musicians of all instruments, all levels, all ages.
Whether or not you have time to practice,
whether your skills are advanced or
elementary,
this approach can transform your
playing and your listening.
I am located in NYC. Get in touch if this speaks to you.
Marshall McLuhan and Me
After playing last night to an audience of significant ears -- i.e., ideally engaged listeners -- I found myself referring to McLuhan's observation that all new media should go straight into the hands of children.
This morning I awoke realizing that that is exactly what happened between the piano and me: I enjoyed a period of immersion in the instrument before ever seeing anyone play the piano or having any idea of what the piano was supposed to be, in other words, no model, no preconception, no instruction.
The sense of wonderment at its fascinating sound has never left me. It may account for the various twists and turns of my musical and personal quest for mastery of this extraordinary phenomenon.
Trouble is that because the Industrial Revolution came after the invention of the piano, it did not go into ordinary households until its splendid fantasy-rich sound had been tamed by piano teachers armed with finger studies.
Think about it. Then move your piano into your child's room, where it belongs.
This morning I awoke realizing that that is exactly what happened between the piano and me: I enjoyed a period of immersion in the instrument before ever seeing anyone play the piano or having any idea of what the piano was supposed to be, in other words, no model, no preconception, no instruction.
The sense of wonderment at its fascinating sound has never left me. It may account for the various twists and turns of my musical and personal quest for mastery of this extraordinary phenomenon.
Trouble is that because the Industrial Revolution came after the invention of the piano, it did not go into ordinary households until its splendid fantasy-rich sound had been tamed by piano teachers armed with finger studies.
Think about it. Then move your piano into your child's room, where it belongs.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Why Did I Come Back to the Piano?
The father of one of my long-term students asked me that yesterday when I described my youthful frustration with the instrument, which led me to quit when I was fifteen.
I would never have told anyone that all I really wanted to achieve was mastery of the piano. If someone hadn't spotted and identified the particular aspect of my hearing that gave it away I would probably still be languishing among the many drop outs whose musical lives are stuck in an "if only."
The sound of the piano is as fascinating to me as the sound of a cappella singing, but in a totally different way. Perhaps because I hold them both so dear I can cross the line from one to the other, though after resuming intensive piano playing I became unable to tune the harpsichord as I liked it in some version of mean-tone tuning--i.e., more like vocal tuning than equal temperament can be.
I would never have told anyone that all I really wanted to achieve was mastery of the piano. If someone hadn't spotted and identified the particular aspect of my hearing that gave it away I would probably still be languishing among the many drop outs whose musical lives are stuck in an "if only."
The sound of the piano is as fascinating to me as the sound of a cappella singing, but in a totally different way. Perhaps because I hold them both so dear I can cross the line from one to the other, though after resuming intensive piano playing I became unable to tune the harpsichord as I liked it in some version of mean-tone tuning--i.e., more like vocal tuning than equal temperament can be.
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