Thoughts on Service Playing, Part III: Helpful hints for sight-reading and learning new music

David Herman

David Herman, DMA, MusD, is Trustees Distinguished Professor Emeritus of Music and University Organist at the University of Delaware. The author of numerous reviews for The Diapason, he has played in churches of various denominations for more than fifty years. His recent CD includes music by his teacher Jan Bender and by Bender’s teacher, Hugo Distler.

This is the second installment in a series of articles that will offer ideas for enriching service playing. (The first installment, on hymn playing, appeared in the September 2016 issue of The Diapason.) They had their genesis in a series of articles written for Crescendo, the newsletter of the Philadelphia chapter of the American Guild of Organists, and are used with permission. In this installment, we turn our attention to transposition. 

 

Organist to soloist at the rehearsal:

“So, you’re singing ‘O Perfect Love.’

What key would you like?”

 

After some thought, the soloist replied,

“E-flat—or would that be too fast?” 

 

This is a true story; I was the organist. The tasks expected of us vary somewhat according to the traditions and expectations of our congregations. Some of us have the opportunity to provide a significant amount of improvisation during the course of a service—extending the music for processions or linking music at the offertory with the Doxology. Others are occasionally expected to transpose a hymn—“kicking it up a notch,” so to speak. Although it is not reasonable to expect us to transpose complicated music such as vocal solos (“G is such a better key for my voice!”), we do face occasions when a psalm or hymn would be better in a different key—for reasons of vocal range; because of the tonality of its surroundings; or in order to integrate it within a choral setting or descant. And, raising the key of the final stanza—judiciously and not every Sunday, please—can provide an exciting climax to the singing of a hymn. 

It is true, of course, that those of us with digital instruments (as with some pipe organs) can leave the transposing to technology. But that’s not what we’re about here. The goal is to enhance our ability at transposition, one of those venerable skills—along with sight-reading and improvisation—that for centuries have been a hallmark of accomplished keyboardists the world over. (Note: those who may be preparing for the American Guild of Organists Service Playing Test should keep in mind that what is required there is prepared transposition, not transposition at sight.) 

 

Transposing at sight

When music with complex harmony or counterpoint must be transposed, writing out the new version is probably in order. Here, however, the subject is transposition at sight. A common situation: a B-flat trumpet player (or tenor sax or B-flat clarinet) must transpose a major second from a given melody in order to create an instrumental part sounding in the correct key. (See Examples A1 and A2.)

To begin with, it should be mentioned that transposition, as with sight-reading, is often challenging to learn (ultimately we must teach ourselves) and requires practice. This is especially so for Americans, whose musical educations usually do not include a working knowledge of the various C clefs. Those fluent in their use (as taught in most European conservatories) can employ the method of transposition in which one substitutes an appropriate clef for the given one and then simply reads the notation in the new key. For the rest of us, other methods must suffice. Let’s begin by mentioning a technique that I believe is not helpful: thinking vertically—that is, mentally moving notes up or down an interval. This may work with a single melodic line: transposing a tune from F major to G involves taking the given notes and moving each up a major second. When more than one musical line is involved, however, this method breaks down. In attempting this with the four lines of a hymn setting, one risks yo-yo of the eyeballs and a sprained brain!

 

Moving horizontally

Instead, proceed horizontally. Try playing from what is written while thinking in the new key. This requires a familiarity with keys and their signatures and is enhanced by having the feel of the key in one’s fingers (from practicing cadences and scales—the “musical vitamins”). The numbers in bold italics that follow represent the scale degrees of a key. Consider the hymn tune Azmon (“O, For a Thousand Tongues to Sing”), as shown in Example A1. Think in the key of G by first focusing on what are the primary scale degrees of any key: 1-3-5 (Do-Mi-Sol = the three notes of the tonic triad; here, G-B-D). Beginning with an analysis of the melody and its form, we note a “half cadence” on 2 (A) at the midpoint. The melody’s first half, following the initial skip from 5 up to 1, consists entirely of motion by step, leading to that half cadence. Now play the tune’s first four bars in other keys, thinking in each new tonality while recreating the interval patterns of the melody. 

The second half consists mostly of intervals of a third, especially that tonally defining pattern of 5-3-1. Having discovered that you can now play this melody in different keys, apply the same treatment to the bass, after which you can put the top and bottom voices together in two-part counterpoint. Focusing on these outer voices, which define the harmony, makes it easier to complete the setting by adding the alto and tenor voices. To apply this process to another famous Common Meter tune, St. Anne (“O God, our help in ages past”), requires only the additional recognition of the motion (modulation) to the dominant at the midpoint, with its new melodic leading-tone. (See Examples B1 and B2.)

A final thought: must an organist be able to transpose at sight in order to be considered competent? I think probably not. But there are situations when the ability to transpose a hymn is useful. Let’s say that “Praise to the Lord” (Lobe den Herren) is one of the day’s hymns. And you would like to embellish the hymn by playing one of the hundreds of chorale preludes written on it over the years: as a prelude, or a hymn introduction/intonation (recalling the centuries-old role of these pieces), or even as an alternation stanza within the hymn. But nearly all of these pieces, having been written in earlier times, will be in the key of G, the key in which the congregation sang it for centuries. In more recent hymnbooks the keys of many hymns have been lowered, meaning that your hymnbook probably has Lobe den Herren in the key of F. Transposing the hymn up a step makes for a smoother connection to the choral prelude. But don’t alarm the choir by letting them know you’re putting the hymn into a higher key!

Faith Freese

Faythe Freese is professor of organ at the University of Alabama School of Music. She recorded Faythe Freese à l’Orgue de l’Eglise de la Sainte Trinité, on the landmark instrument where Guilmant, Messiaen, and Hakim were titular organists. As a Fulbright scholar and an Indiana University/Kiel Ausstausch Programme participant, she studied the works of Jean Langlais with the composer in France and the works of Max Reger with Heinz Wunderlich in Germany. Freese studied with Marilyn Keiser, Robert Rayfield, William Eifrig, and Phillip Gehring, and coached with Montserrat Torrent, Ton Koopman, Pieter van Dijk, Dame Gillian Weir, Simon Preston, and Daniel Roth. A DVD, Sure-Fire Practice Techniques, which includes demonstrations of practice techniques, is available from The American Organist: 212/870-2311, ext. 4318.

When Pablo Casals (at age 93) was asked why he continued to practice the cello three hours a day, he replied, “I’m beginning to notice some improvement.” Efficient, systematic practice is a necessity for learning music quickly. As a career educator, I am aware that organ students often lack the proper practice tools. This article offers suggestions on ways to improve and render practice sessions more efficient and productive. 

 

Good habits or bad habits?

Learning notes is hard work, which is why music is called a discipline. No short cuts exist for learning repertoire. The goals of complete musical understanding and technical perfection can be realized only by developing intelligent practice and study methods until they become habits.

The brain is hard-wired to operate on habit. We carry all habits, whether good or bad, for a lifetime, encoded in chemicals and stored in our brains. New, good habits never really replace bad habits but rather displace them and make the old habits less prominent. Pursued long enough, new habits become stronger than old habits; however, any backsliding of the new habits allows the old habits to resurface. We must strive to create good rather than bad habits, so let us begin with good practice habits—which are an example of self-regulated learning.

 

Components of self-regulated learning

According to educational research, four components of self-regulated learning are required to attain high-level performance. The student must be able to:

• plan, monitor, and regulate his or her learning activities through self-awareness (metacognitive strategies);

• persist at a difficult task and block out distractions (management and control); 

• organize material and cognitively engage in rehearsal; 

• assess progress and determine the next step required to accomplish a goal. This requires perseverance and tenacity—the drive and motivation to follow through, even in the face of failure. 

During my doctoral studies at Indiana University, my teacher Marilyn Keiser requested that I perform the solo organ version of the Requiem by Maurice Duruflé. The work was to be performed in one month; in two weeks, I was to be ready to play piano accompaniment for chorus rehearsals. This assignment took real perseverance, although fear alone served as a great motivator! Another recent experience of mine was learning, in one month, the orchestral reduction of Benedicite by Ralph Vaughan Williams, while simultaneously, within a week, learning both the solo and the organ/brass versions of Grand Choeur Dialogué by Eugene Gigout. Perseverance was imperative to becoming performance ready. Music that is exceedingly difficult accompanied by time restrictions requires the musician to be tenaciously persistent. 

 

Eternal Principles

Self-regulated practice is enhanced by observing the following “Eternal Principles:”

1. Keep practice fresh by avoiding mechanical and unthinking practice. Through body and mind awareness, try to determine what is required to elevate the music to the next level. Avoid hasty practice, keeping tempos slow until the mind, hands, and feet can negotiate the notes. Above all, vary the practice techniques.

2. Practice immediately after a lesson so that the points made by your teacher are easily recalled.

3. Avoid playing incorrect notes from the very start. If an incorrect note is played, complete the phrase, then repeat the passage correctly several times. Also, stop on the corrected note and say the name of the note aloud. A word of caution: do not stop and fix errors as they occur, since this stopping and backing up to “fix” can become a bad habit that is difficult to break. Remember, all of our experiences, whether good or bad, are encoded in chemicals and stored in our brains.

4. After phrases and sections of a composition have been mastered at a slow tempo, build tempo. Phrases that are not yet solid require repetitious, slow practice in subsequent practice sessions.

5. Always practice at a steady tempo. Refrain from playing easy passages fast and difficult passages slowly, rather, select a sustainable tempo at which notes can be played accurately.

6. Place brackets around difficult, trouble areas and devote the most time to these sections. The most inefficient practice is to repeatedly start at the beginning of a piece and play to the end. 

7. Practice in segments, stopping and resting at the first sign of tension. Short periods of mindful, brain-engaged practice are far more productive than four hours of mindless drilling. One should attempt practicing in shorter segments such as 30-minute to one-hour intervals, three to four times daily. Stop, move away from the console, and think about the music. Physical activity such as working out in the gym or mowing the lawn refreshes the mind and body so that practice may be resumed anew. 

8. Once the notes have been learned, register the piece and practice operating mechanical elements such as drawing stops, pressing pistons, opening and closing swell shades. Mechanical skills should be incorporated as early as possible and practiced regularly to achieve total mastery. 

9. Practice on consecutive days. Practice cannot be skipped for two days and made up on day three by tripling the practice time. Time lost equals notes lost.

10. Perform for others. Practicing alone, sequestered away in a practice room is a completely different experience than playing publicly. Public performances, which can prove stressful, benefit the musician by informing how to cope with performance anxiety. Organists may try “breaking in” their new repertoire for the church congregation, who in turn may offer fresh insights into the musical presentation. Be discerning, however: not all congregational comments are appropriate! 

11. Avoid distractions, a key offender being the cell phone. Turn it off. Other distractions can creep into your consciousness as focus deteriorates. Change your place of practice—for instance, move to the couch and study the score.

 

A practice management plan

 The following practice management habits promote self-regulated learning. First, determine a final tempo goal and mark it at the top of the music. Second, prepare a practice checklist (see the sample, above), practice diary, practice log, or weekly practice evaluation. Third, devote a specific amount of time for developing technique, learning new music, memorizing, and polishing music. Set daily practice goals such as, “Today, I will learn the notes of this piece at this new tempo,” or “Today, I will register this piece and learn the piston pushes at half tempo.” 

 

Getting ready: 

Score preparation

A blank score without fingering and pedaling markings is a possible indicator that the fingers and feet are learning different “jobs” with each repetition. The remedy is to mark the fingering and pedaling sufficiently so that the practice techniques discussed later can be successfully executed. Fingering and pedaling should be marked according to the economy of motion principle. Substitutions should be saved as a last resort since they require extra motion. Time and effort is expended to mark fingering and pedaling, therefore be sure to follow the indicated markings always. If, after a week of diligent practice, the markings still feel awkward, then and only then, alter them. Marking the score is important for both early and modern fingering.

When a piece is relearned years from now, a new fingering may be discovered that accommodates the maturation of knowledge such as the learning of historical performance practice or a change in hand musculature or technique. By all means, change your markings as needed.

 

Warm up your hands and feet—Daily!

A strong, healthy technique enables the musician to play any music, no matter the difficulty. The following items are a partial list for a daily warm-up routine: manual scales on piano and organ; pedal scales; arpeggios on piano and organ; and use of technique books such as: Method of Organ Playing by Harold Gleason; The Virtuoso Pianist by Charles-Louis Hanon; 101 Exercises, op. 261 by Carl Czerny; 51 Übungen by Johannes Brahms; and Études, opp. 10 and 25 by Frédéric Chopin.

 

A baker’s dozen: Techniques for learning notes

The following practice techniques may be employed alone and in combination:

1. Hands alone.

2. Feet alone.

3. Hands together.

4. Right hand and pedal together.

5. Left hand and pedal together.

6. All parts together.

7. Select odd registrations in each hand to bring out the lines and toy with your concentration.

8. Register with a 4′ flute for clarity.

9. Practice even notes in uneven rhythms with a metronome at slow tempo; L=Long, S=Short. Slow rhythmic practice increases control and speed of learning the notes because muscle memory is created as the long, accented notes get “into” the fingers. By switching to a S-L rhythm in subsequent repetitions, the long notes are played by alternative fingers, thereby enhancing the muscle memory and getting notes “into” the alternate fingers quickly. Another reason that rhythms work so well when there is a string of short notes followed by a long note, there is a momentary “let up,” or a chance to collect one’s wits while paused on the long note. After every permutation of the long-short rhythms has been played, the organist will note that when playing the music as written great control and clarity has been achieved. Care should be taken to play legato with arm weight, even if staccato is indicated, thus furthering the speed of note learning. Altering rhythms with each repetition also lends itself to mindful, productive rehearsing. Additional rhythms are:

• Triplets: L-S-S; S-L-S; S-S-L.

• Four sixteenths: L-S-S-S; S-L-S-S; S-S-L-S; S-S-S-L; L-S-S-L; S-S-L-L; S-L-L-S; L-L-S-S; L-L-L-S; L-L-S-L; L-S-L-L; S-L-L-L.

• Any additional patterns one can devise.

The “mirror” technique to rhythm practice is “no-rhythm” practice, which removes the “momentary let-ups” naturally occurring in the music, forcing you to keep thinking ahead in the score.

10. Backwards practice with and without metronome. This practice system keeps you out of the “I just want to hear what it sounds like” mode and is also a memorization technique. It is imperative that the score has been fingered and pedaled before embarking on backwards practice. Example 1, from the Prelude in E Minor, BWV 548, begins with hands and feet together in m. 16 on the last eighth note. Play a dotted rhythm to the bar line employing the metronome at about 40 to the eighth note. Should this tempo be too quick, start with a tempo that is manageable. Begin the next repetition on beat three, in rhythms, and play to the bar line. Next, start on the second half of beat two and play to the bar line in a different rhythm. With each repetition, the metronome is moved up by one click. Change the rhythms from L-S to S-L and also play as written, thereby keeping practice fresh and the brain engaged. If a note is missed, do not stop to fix it as the note will be fixed on subsequent repetitions. It is entirely possible to learn a page of music, up to tempo or fairly close to the goal tempo within a 45–60 minute practice session. 

11. Inside Out Practice with or without metronome. Again, it is important that the score be marked with fingerings and pedaling. Bracket a difficult section on the score and begin in the center of that section. In Example 2, from the Sonata in D Minor, BWV 527, let us hypothetically identify the downbeat of m. 117 as the center of a difficult segment. Begin at m. 116, beat 3, and progress to m. 117, beat 2. Play in one of the following rhythms: L-S-S, S-L-S, or S-S-L, or play as written. The next repetition begins at m. 116, beat 2, and finishes at m. 117, beat 3. Alter the rhythm as desired and move the metronome up by one click with each repetition. 

12. Slow to Fast Practice with metronome. Prepare the score extensively with fingerings and pedaling (see Example 3). Set the metronome at a tempo that promotes note accuracy with hands and feet together. In Example 3, with hands and feet together, begin in m. 119 and play to m. 125 in rhythms. On the next repetition, move the metronome up one click and change the rhythm. Use the metronome to “push” the tempo; however, if the playing becomes erratic and inaccurate, decrease the metronome tempo and rebuild the tempo again. 

Caveat! The notes that were learned up to performance tempo on the first day will perhaps seem foreign on the second day. Have no fear! On day two, begin the process anew, increasing the tempo from very slow to the performance tempo. You will note that the beginning tempo on the second day and subsequent days will not be quite as slow as the first day. Your recall of the notes from day to day will be quicker as well. Soon you will be playing the notes with ease and facility.

13. Piano practice: for every 15 minutes of organ practice, practice one hour on the piano, employing rhythms and slow practice. Remember: practice scales! Practice arpeggios! This practice can also be done on harpsichord and/or clavichord, so long as you play with sufficient weight into the keys, so as to achieve the results described in No. 9 (Rhythm Practice) of the Baker’s Dozen Techniques listed above.

 

Polishing the music 

Polishing music is a necessary and sometimes arduous task. In addition to the aforementioned techniques, try the following methods:

1. Practice with both eyes closed. Not only does this test the memory, but one is able to visualize the hands and feet as they move across the keys. 

2. Practice with the dominant eye closed. In learning particularly difficult musical passages, one eye may be blind folded, preferably the dominant eye (see Notes). The success of this technique is possibly due to the addition of a new element that interrupts the performer’s focus, thereby causing the musician to heighten his or her awareness.

3. Score visualization or mental practice. Visualization is the imaginary rehearsal of a skill minus muscular movement or sound, executed away from the organ. In the 1984 and 1988 Olympics, the United States diver, Greg Louganis, was consistently awarded 10s for his dives. When asked how he performed at such a consistently high level, he referenced visualization. That is, he sat on the bench away from the diving platform and visualized every motion of his dive, which included walking to and climbing the ladder, approaching the edge of the platform and standing, poised, readying himself for departure from the platform, the take-off, his position in the air, and entry into the water—without moving a muscle. He visualized perfection every time and then set out to accomplish that vision.

Within a musical context, the performer sits away from the organ console with a score and visualizes playing the work from beginning to the end. The performer “hears” the music and “sees” the hands and feet moving across the keys, visualizing a perfect performance. An added benefit of visualization is the quieting effect on the racing heart and the centering of the mind, a positive counter for performance anxiety.

4. Slow practice at half or ¾ tempo. Play only once a day at performance tempo. Playing repeatedly at performance tempo tends to break down the work, rendering it sloppy.

5. Dead manual practice while hearing the music internally.

6. Record yourself and listen critically with a score. Mark the score where necessary.

 

Maintaining performance-ready music and bringing old music back

Many of the above techniques can be employed, but slow practice on piano and organ, playing at ½ to ¾ tempo, isolating challenging segments, and practicing in rhythms are particularly beneficial.

 

Conclusion

Students seeking to perfect their musical art must utilize every available tool in terms of practice techniques. Employing “Sure-fire” practice techniques regularly will develop time-saving and energy efficient habits that involve the necessary components of self-regulated learning: metacognitive strategies, management and control, cognitive engagement and strategies, and self-efficacy. The diligent student engaged in systematic and efficient practice sessions will be rewarded with a fast and continuous upward trajectory resulting in the attainment of the highest level of musical art. ν

Notes 

Several methods for determining ocular dominance exist. Here are two: 

a. Miles Test: Extend your arms out in front of you at eye level with palms facing away. Bring your hands together, overlapping the thumbs and fingers, forming a small “V” shaped” hole or window. Select a small object at least ten feet in front of you and view it with both eyes through the window in your hands. While remaining focused on the object, slowly draw your hands closer to you. When you have drawn your hands to your face, the window will be placed over one eye or the other. This is your dominant eye. 

b. Porta Test: Extend your arm out in front of you and align your index finger on a distant object. Close the left eye and observe the location of the object. Now open the left eye and close the right eye and observe the location of the object. When one eye is closed, it is likely that the object disappeared or appeared to shift to one side or the other. When the opposite eye is closed the object probably remained stationary. The eye that kept the object stationary in the view window is your dominant eye. If the object did not appear to move when either eye was closed, this is an indication that you are among the rare individuals who have central vision.

 

Bibliography

Byo, James. “Teaching Problem Solving in Practice.” Music Educators Journal 91, no. 2 (2004): 35–39 http://www.jstor.org/stable/3400047 (accessed June 9, 2014).

Cremaschi, Alejandro. “The effect of a practice checklist on practice strategies, practice self regulation and achievement of collegiate music majors enrolled in a beginning class piano course.” Research Studies in Music Education 34 (2012): 223. http://rsm.sagepub.com/ (accessed April 30, 2014).

Gleason, Harold. Method of Organ Playing, 8th ed., Upper Saddle River, N. J.: Prentice Hall, 1996.

Maynard, Lisa. “The Role of Repetition in the Practice Sessions of Artist Teachers and Their Students.” Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education 167 (2006): 61–72. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40319290 (accessed June 9, 2014).

Oare, Steve. “Practice Education: Teaching Instrumentalists to Practice Effectively.” Music Educators Journal 97, no. 3 (2011): 41–47, http://www.jstor.org/stable/23012590 (accessed April 30, 2014).

Pintrich, Paul R. and Elisabeth V. De Groot. “Motivational and Self-Regulated Learning Components of Classroom Academic Performance.” Journal of Educational Psychology 1990, Vol. 82, No. 1, 33–40.

http://www.human-memory.net/processes_encoding.html (accessed May 30, 2016).

David Herman

David Herman, DMA, MusD, is Trustees Distinguished Professor Emeritus of Music and University Organist at the University of Delaware. The author of numerous reviews for The Diapason, David has enjoyed playing hymns in churches of various denominations for more than 50 years. His recent CD, Ein neues Lied+A New Song, includes choral and organ music by his teacher Jan Bender and by Bender’s teacher, Hugo Distler. The disc is available from the author ([email protected]).

This is the fourth and final installment in a series of articles that offer ideas for enriching service playing. (The first installment, on hymn playing, appeared in the September 2016 issue of The Diapason; the second installment, on transposition, appeared in the January 2017 issue; the third installment, on sight-reading and learning new music, appeared in the February 2017 issue.) These essays had their genesis in a series of articles written for Crescendo, the newsletter of the Philadelphia chapter of the American Guild of Organists, and are used with permission. This installment concerns accompaniment.

 

Accompanying choral music and solos

The good accompanist always plays the text.

—Austin Lovelace¹

In hymn playing, the emphasis is on leading; with accompaniment, the organist’s role is different. When accompanying, we are followers, sometimes supporters; and at other times merely in the background; occasionally, equal partners. In any case, as accompanists we make a very important contribution to the music. Just listen to recordings of choral music and note the deft playing that “makes” an anthem, a Howells canticle, or an Anglican psalm. As with hymn playing, on some occasions the accompanist joins with the singers in making magic happen! 

Accompanying is an art, of course, and, as with any aspect of our work, the more we practice it, the better we become. It is a worthy calling and good accompanists are highly to be prized—“More to be desired are they than gold,” to borrow from the Psalmist. Engaging in such collaborative work enhances our overall musicianship and usefulness and makes us better listeners. I regret that some advanced piano students, particularly at universities, ignore or turn away from opportunities to accompany, preferring instead to focus only on learning repertoire. That seems pretty short-sighted to me. Do they really think they are going to have careers only as soloists? Accompanying is not necessarily easier than solo performance; it merely calls upon some different skills. Following are a few thoughts on technical and musical aspects of effective accompanying, particularly as applied to working with choirs. 

 

Technical matters

Rhythmic playing is especially important in choral accompaniment. With all due respect to conductors, the stability of the choir is often in the hands (literally) of the accompanist, who helps keep the singers on track rhythmically, gives them confidence for their entrances, and generally contributes to the solidity of the ensemble.

We accompanists have an extra challenge. In addition to reading the map (music) and piloting the organ, we also have to keep an eye on the conductor. (Unless the conductor is you!) For those of us in middle age or beyond, the ocular challenges can be significant. We’ll leave that matter to you and your optical professional, but do remember that appropriate eyeglasses are among organists’ essential tools. Reading what’s on the music rack through bifocals is likely to give you a pain in the neck! If you require reading glasses, consider “half glasses,” so that you can look over them at the conductor. In addition to the visual aspects, careful listening to the combined sounds of organ and choir is musically very important. Constant monitoring is needed to ensure good balance between choir and organ. Relying on the Swell division can be useful in allowing immediate modifications in volume. (But see also the final paragraph below.)

 

Transcription-type 

accompaniment

Some accompaniments are written specifically for the organ, using two or three staves. These should be learned in the same way as organ literature and played as written. Other accompaniments are composed more generically, for “keyboard.” Those are sometimes a challenge to play on the organ. A growing number have tricky pianistic textures with lots of arpeggios and/or “oom-pah” left-hand parts—not natural to the organ. Arpeggios, really “unfolded” harmony, can often be played vertically, as chords. Although such accompaniments often have no pedal parts, using the organ pedals occasionally can make them a bit easier to play, helping out the hands and compensating somewhat for the lack of a damper pedal.

Many accompaniments are transcriptions, having begun their lives as orchestral music. Some are even twice removed from the original: think of Handel’s Messiah, for which we must take music written for orchestra, subsequently arranged for piano, and now play it on the organ—all at no extra pay! In these cases it is important to keep in mind that our job is making organ music, and thus we must often make some adjustments in the music’s texture in order not only to make it playable on our instrument but also to make it sound effective and convincing as organ music. This is an important concept, running as a common thread through both hymn and anthem playing: organists often are called upon to play something that did not originate as organ music. The late Erik Routley wrote convincingly of this in his book, Church Music and the Christian Faith: 

 

Service playing demands a great deal of imagination on the player’s part, and has very little to do with the fundamentalist obedience to a score that recital playing . . . requires. An organist must constantly edit a score. When accompanying anthems and service settings the organist gets no instructions about registration, and sometimes indeed has to play from a piano reduction of what was originally an orchestral score. The point here is that the organist must translate the . . . score into organ language [my emphasis] as he or she plays. This will be not a distraction but a reassurance for the congregation, especially if the organist’s chief attention is to rhythm and touch [again, those two magic words].²

Here are some specific suggestions for playing transcriptions:

• I often find it easier to first work out a transcription at the piano and then move to the organ. This helps in developing an initial understanding of the musical texture and expression, which then transfers to the organ.

• As with hymns, here the novice organist faces the question of “to pedal or not to pedal.” Try taking busy eighth-note bass lines with your left hand (instead of the pedals), or leave them out entirely. Consider the possibility of “pedal points”—the concept originates in organ music. Replacing a busy bass line with a long-held note often results in more convincing organ music. 

• Pedal long notes, not fast ones, and add pedal at major cadences (musical punctuations—see example above).

• Simplify the texture when possible. Thinner is usually better than thicker. Remember that, especially in seventeenth- or eighteenth-century music, the outer voices of the texture usually tell all. Playing only these is very often enough; the organ’s registration fills in with other pitches and doublings.

• Consider using only a manual-to-pedal coupler instead of heavy pedal stops. This helps to keep rhythm and tempo from bogging down, and taking the occasional left-hand note with a foot helps with page turning.

These suggestions also apply when playing solo organ works that are transcriptions.

 

Registration

• Avoid string and flute celestes in most instances unless specifically called for in the music. Although they can make an ethereal “wash” of sound, their pitch is vague by design, and their articulation is too imprecise for detail work. Keep in mind that the articulation in organ playing is equivalent to consonants in speech—enunciation. The goal is the same: clarity, so as to make the music understandable.

• Light and clear registrations (8′ and 2′ flutes, for example) enhance early (pre-nineteenth-century) music, when accompaniments are often instrumental in origin. Rhythmic energy and pulse are essential ingredients in early music; a light registration makes this easier to provide. Save colorful registrations for nineteenth- and twentieth-century music, where they’re often called for.

• Use the swell box judiciously. In anthem accompanying, especially of early music, try setting the swell box and leaving it alone. This will simplify things and be more faithful to the music’s intentions. Although it is sometimes appropriate to close the box partially in order to achieve a good balance between organ and singers, it is generally better to leave the box open to allow easy egress of the sound. In pre-nineteenth-century music, one or two clear stops on the Great or Positiv are better than three or more on the Swell with the box shut.

 

Accompanying Psalmody

 

All Christian churches are impoverished if the psalms are withdrawn from their worship.

—Erik Routley³

 

The Book of Psalms is a sweet and delightful song because it sings of and proclaims the Messiah.

—Martin Luther⁴

 

The skills necessary in accompanying psalms effectively are essentially those needed for leading hymn singing (see September 2016 issue) or accompanying in general. Nonetheless, it may be helpful to offer suggestions specific to psalmody.

There are various methods of singing the psalms, of course: psalm tones; harmonized (Anglican) chant; metrical paraphrases (which would be played as a hymn); and “newer” methods, such as formulary tones and Gelineau psalmody. A keyword in hymn playing is “leading.” Its correspondent in playing psalms is “support,” and, for the most part, is in the background. A partial exception: there are responsorial psalm settings in which the choir or soloists sing the verses while the congregation responds with a refrain or antiphon. In this instance the organist is alternately leader and accompanist. It is helpful in such cases if the organist can give a clear signal to the people each time they sing, with an increased registration; by playing the antiphon’s melody as a solo voice; or by providing a firm “downbeat” in the pedal to serve as a springboard to the congregation’s response.

However, in most psalm settings of the “formula” type—various types of psalm tones, for example—the goal is to be quietly supportive but not “in the way” of the voice part, whose text-inspired rhythm must float in a free and flexible way. Harmonized (Anglican) chant, normally played as written, must be similarly supple in rhythm. In addition, organists who are experienced and comfortable with this medium have opportunities for discrete “colorings” by way of appropriate registration changes and/or melodic descants (but without changes in harmony).

In all chant-based accompanying, the organist must play the music from memory in order to follow and play the words of each psalm verse. In playing the psalmody of Joseph Gelineau, which employs a temporal system quite different from that in psalm tones, the organist again provides quiet support to the sung text, but within the framework of its regularly recurring rhythm. 

Following are some specific suggestions for accompanying psalm tones, Gregorian psalmody, or other “monodic” chant:

• Keep in mind that, in fact, no accompaniment may be needed at all. Historically these chants would have been sung without accompaniment. Or, instead of the organ try a few handbells, used to punctuate the phrases.

• Use a discrete, quiet registration, preferably in a swell box to allow for subtle and immediate gradations in dynamics.

• Don’t pedal, or use a light pedal registration.

• It is not necessary to double the melody; providing slow-moving and somewhat thin accompaniment (alternately, a “wash” of sound, hardly moving at all) helps to encourage the requisite flexibility in singing.

• In generating your accompaniment, think modally, not harmonically. No V7 chords or other traditional harmonic motion.

 

A final thought

The initial learning process of accompanying different types of psalm tones is not unlike mastering a spoken language; playing fluidly and supportively requires having the authentic “accent” in the ears. As with mastering a language, accomplishing the appropriate “sound” of, say, Anglican chant is enhanced by listening to examples. There are fine recordings available (on such labels as EMI, Hyperion, and Priory, among others), especially from English college chapels and cathedrals. Some British recording companies have committed to issuing the entire Psalter in Anglican chant, such as the recordings by the choir of St. Paul’s London, when it was under the direction of the late John Scott. ν

 

Notes

1. Austin Lovelace, The Organist and Hymn Playing (rev.) (Carol Stream, Illinois: Agape, 1981), 26.

2. Erik Routley, Church Music and the Christian Faith (Carol Stream, Illinois: Agape, 1978), 102 and 105–6.

3. Routley, p. 117.

4. Luther’s Works, Vol. 15; ed. Jaroslav Jan Pelikan (Concordia Pub. House, 1971), p. 273.

David Herman

David Herman, DMA, MusD, is Trustees Distinguished Professor Emeritus of Music and University Organist at the University of Delaware. The author of numerous reviews for The Diapason, David has enjoyed playing hymns in churches of various denominations for more than fifty years. His recent CD includes music by his teacher Jan Bender and by Bender’s teacher, Hugo Distler.

Through the diverse work of nearly every organist runs a common thread: We are called upon to play the organ for religious services. This is the first in a series of articles that will offer ideas for enriching service playing; these articles were originally written for Crescendo, the newsletter of the Philadelphia AGO chapter and are used with their permission. Mention is occasionally made of the “young organist”—this is not a reference to age, but of skills and experience. Many “young” organists of all ages have keyboard skills and have been pressed to move from the piano bench to the organ bench. In this first installment, we will turn our attention to hymn playing.

 

Hymns must dance, even when they

“slow dance.”—Bruce Neswick

 

Hymn playing is a large topic—and the most important of them all, as it is the heart of what we do as church organists. A comprehensive treatment of hymn playing would include topics such as touch, breathing/phrasing, repeated notes, pedaling, registration, tempo, and, especially, attention to the text. You have probably recognized these as the same skills necessary in playing organ literature convincingly.

The service player, moreover, must consider many additional aspects. These include the different “personalities” of hymn texts and tunes; musical leadership; variety—in registration, texture, and harmonization; and, most importantly, bringing the words of the hymn to life. “Present the ancient truth as a present truth,” as Erik Routley once wrote, referring to hymns from previous centuries.¹

In short, hymn playing deserves a book and course of its own. What follows here are merely a few thoughts, with the hope they may be of some use and interest.

 

The organist as leader

First, some technical aspects. It is worth mentioning just what we’re about as organists during congregational singing. We are not the peoples’ accompanist; to accompany is to support, and, ultimately, to follow. That’s what we do, for example, when accompanying a vocal or instrumental soloist. When the people are singing they depend upon the organist for leadership—a significant, if subtle, difference.

The organist has a number of important decisions to make on behalf of the people. These include interpreting the “character” of the hymn, perhaps even determining the key; and setting the tempo. Having established these essential musical ingredients, the organist then invites the people to sing by way of an intonation: an introduction that is both music and signal. As the hymn unfolds, the organist maintains the tempo and sees to other musical ingredients—including phrasing and appropriate changes in texture and registration—with polite, but firm, insistence. Through all this, the organist encourages the faithful (nearly all of whom are musical amateurs) to sing and helps to interpret the texts of the hymns.

How is all this accomplished? What to do, for example, when the tempo (or spirit) sags? The answer: Of most importance in effective musical communication is the organist’s strong sense of rhythm, accomplished through touch. In other words, the same technical skills needed for a compelling performance of a Bach fugue or a French organ symphony are those we draw upon in leading congregational song. The late Robert Glasgow, one of my teachers and a man who didn’t waste words, was once asked at a masterclass to “say a few words about rhythm in organ playing.” “Well,” he replied, a bit bewildered by the question, “I’m very much for it.”

 

Playing the text

All this reinforces the fact that hymn playing is technically demanding. It requires a strong sense of rhythm, confidence in touch, and at least the beginnings of a dependable pedal technique. Hymn playing is especially challenging for the less-experienced organist, who is understandably concerned about playing notes; but ultimately, this really is about playing words!

Hymns are poetry, as we know; it is the hymn’s tune that we play. It is the wedding of hymn and tune that we sing. Out of respect for the hymn text, many British hymnbooks display it, separated from the music, at the bottom of the page so that the poetry can be seen and appreciated. Young organists (of all ages) often find it necessary to fix their attention on the music of the hymn, and become anxious when told they must also follow the text. If the words of each stanza are not considered, the result is playing the first stanza again four or five times. Indeed, there can be significant changes in mood and even in rhythm from one stanza to the next. (Think of the rhythmic variables among the stanzas of “For All the Saints.”)

Some of us have played hymns for a very long while and, as a result, we need not spend quite so much time working out the notes each week. My pre-Sunday preparation focuses on reviewing the hymns’ words: the phrases and stanzas. Realizing that the congregation will breathe when they need to, I nevertheless mark places in my hymnbook where the choir and I will not breathe, to help make clear the poet’s thoughts.

In earlier times I recommended that the organist sing aloud with the people. I changed my mind, however, when in a workshop some thirty years ago, John Ferguson made a convincing case for the organist’s forming the words mentally but not actually producing a sound. He was right: This allows the organist to be both involved with the text and to monitor the peoples’ singing. I want to be certain that the congregation is “with me,” not only in tempo but in spirit. I also believe that, if I can hear the people singing, the organ is not too loud.

 

Pedaling

Playing the pedal (bass) part of a hymn can be as difficult as trio playing. Until an organist has developed the requisite pedal technique, it is better to not use pedals on hymns, even though this will likely increase the challenge for the hands. Example 1 shows an in-between solution: to pedal only occasionally—on long notes (pedal points) and at cadences, where the feet can prepare the primary scale degrees (tonic and dominant notes).

Q: How long may you hold on to a pedal point?

A: For as long as it sounds good!

Working out the pedal part is a challenge for all of us who like to write in pedaling marks, as hymnbooks typically have the settings notated in “choral” style, with insufficient room above the bass line for writing in pedaling.

 

Tempo

Tempo is a tricky and somewhat subjective matter, especially since the same hymn might call for different tempos depending upon such factors as hour of the day, age of the congregation, acoustics of the worship space, and the number of people singing. The organist sets the tempo, of course, which then must be maintained from beginning to end, through clear touch and rhythm.

 

Hymn introductions

Hymn introductions function as musical signals. They alert the congregation that it is time to sing, and provide essential information about the key, tempo and, perhaps, the nature of the hymn. What an introduction need not have to provide literally is the hymn tune, played all the way through (although this is typically what the British do).

In a hymn introduction, the organist can exercise some creativity in crafting a hymn “intonation,” by improvising or composing one, or using one of the many thousands in print by various composers. (See Example 2.)

 

Links

No, not golf or computer links. These refer to the precise amount of time inserted by the organist between the intonation and stanza 1, and between subsequent pairs of stanzas. This rhythmic silence is crucial in both giving the people time to breathe as well as signaling when they sing.

The link between stanzas is created by either adding a certain number of beats (if the last note of the tune is short, as in Example 3a), or subtracting beats (when the final note is long, say, a whole note, as in Example 3b). The great majority of people in our congregations are musical amateurs and we want to use all possible means to encourage them to sing energetically and with confidence.

 

Registration

“Flue” pipes on an organ are the strings, flutes, and principals. The first two are indispensible for accompaniment and in playing many organ pieces. Principals, on the other hand, excel at leading. A solid registration of principals 8′, 4′ and 2′ (crowned, perhaps, with a mixture) provides clear and encouraging leadership to the congregation. Normally, it is preferable to not overload the registration with 8′ stops; better to have stops of higher pitches, which sing out above the register of the congregation. Use manual 16′ stops carefully and sparingly and avoid celestes and the tremulant.

Above all: Listen to the congregation. If you can’t hear them, you may be playing too loudly!

 

Voice leading and texture

People often ask: “In passages with repeated notes, which do I tie and which should be repeated?” It’s not possible, I think, to declare an “always” rule for this (although some books do). Repeated notes in the melody of any hymn are always repeated—perhaps even overenunciated. Think of the opening notes of Rhosymedre. The best treatment of repeated notes is the use of “half-values” (that is, changing repeated quarter notes to eighth notes and eighth rests), shown in Example 4. As for the other voices, I suggest listening, to both the organ and the response of the congregation, making modifications in touch as needed.

 

Variety

A hymn may have four or five or— thank you, Martin Luther!—ten to fifteen stanzas. Why should all of them be played the same way? After all, the words change from one stanza to the next. Variety does not mean drastic or melodramatic musical gestures, unnecessary interludes, constant modulations, etc., but variety in response to the hymn text—musical interpretations that inspire the congregation to “sing ancient truths as present truths.” (See Routley’s comments below.) In the meantime, here are some easy ways to introduce variety in your hymn playing:

• Change registration (between stanzas, not within a stanza), reflecting upon aspects of the words.

• Solo the melody by using a trumpet or similar stop. Or better: Do you have young people in your congregation who play instruments? Most of us do. Recruit one or more to play the trumpet or other instrument on the melody of selected stanzas of a hymn. He/she can be thought of as a supplementary organ stop; and the young person will be thrilled to be a part of such an important activity.

• Drop out the pedals for a significant change (lightening) in overall sound.

• Occasionally, drop out the organ completely for a stanza. This requires preparation and the presence of a confident choir, who have been clued in as to what will happen. This can be very effective, even dramatic, on the right stanza and allows the people to find, and “center on,” their voices.

• Use alternation. Lutherans in 16th-century Germany continued the venerable process known as Alternatim Praxis—alternation. Carl Schalk described it this way: “The congregation, singing the unison chorales unaccompanied, alternated with (1) a unison . . . choir (the schola), (2) a choir singing polyphonic settings of the chorale (the choir), or (3) the organ, playing chorale settings.”²

Yes, that’s right: The organ can “play” a stanza of the hymn by itself. Other possibilities for alternation: men and trebles; right and left sides of the naves; choir and congregation. An example: Have the choir sing stanzas 5 and 6 of “For All the Saints” in parts. Perhaps from the aisle, before going on into the choir stalls. Alternation is meant to enhance, of course, not distract or annoy. So, the details of such a plan should be clearly laid out in the Sunday bulletin, especially when doing this for the first time.

• Sing in parts. None of these suggestions require the organist to depart from the harmony in the hymnbook. In many churches, the people wish to sing hymns in parts. This precludes, of course, the possibility of the organist’s occasional playing of alternate harmonizations (something many of us enjoy doing). Blessed is the church, then, that has the tradition of “unison on first and last stanzas, parts on the middle stanzas.” When the choir uses this plan, the people usually follow. This allows for the introduction (carefully) of varied harmonizations to enrich the hymn singing. These can be improvised (if thought out in advance), composed by the organist, or played from any number of fine publications written for this purpose.

Ultimately, hymn playing is about inspiration. For me, few musical experiences can top that of leading and encouraging a large congregation in singing a great hymn. The rewards and satisfaction can be tremendous. We’ve all been inspired by great service players, some of whom have been our own teachers.

Let’s allow Routley to have the last word:

 

It is your duty, your contribution to the service, to interpret as well as to play.

You are taking those words and notes out of the printed book and presenting them to the congregation as a new, fresh, contemporary thing.

Do nothing mechanically, by habit, or lightly, or casually.

Do all by decision. Do all after thought and prayer.

And may the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us,

and may He prosper our handiwork.³

 

Additional resources

• The Association of Lutheran Church Musicians offers several hymn-based recordings, including a hymn festival by Paul Manz and Martin Marty. See www.alcm.org/marketplace/.

• David Cherwien provides many useful suggestions in his book on leading congregational song, Let the People Sing! A Keyboardist’s Creative and Practical Guide to Engaging God’s People in Meaningful Song (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1997).

• John Ferguson and others have created “Mini-Courses on Hymn Playing,” available from the publications section of the AGO website: http://ago.networkats.com/members_online/members/createorder.asp?action….

• Stuart Forster, Hymn Playing: A Modern Colloquium, offers contributions from eleven prominent organists (MorningStar Music Publishers, 2013).

• Gerre Hancock’s book on improvisation, Improvising: How to Master the Art (Oxford University Press, 1994) remains one of the standards in the field. 

• David Heller’s Manual on Hymn Playing: A Handbook for Organists offers techniques at all levels (GIA Publications, Inc., G3642, 2001).

• Noel Jones, A Catholic Organist’s Guide to Playing Hymns. CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2015 (available from Amazon).

 

Notes

1. Erik Routley, The Organist’s Guide to Congregational Praise (London: Independent Press, 1947), 12, quoted in Austin Lovelace, The Organist and Hymn Playing (rev.) (Carol Stream, Illinois: Agape, 1981), 26.

2. Carl Schalk, ed., Key Words in Church Music, rev. and enlarged (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2004), 26–27.

3. Routley, The Organist’s Guide, 12–13, quoted in Lovelace, The Organist and Hymn Playing, 26.

Gavin Black

Gavin Black is the director of the Princeton Early Keyboard Center in Princeton, New Jersey. His website is www.gavinblack-baroque.com and he can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

Velocity III

As a brief addendum to the latter part of last month’s column, I must mention that among famous organ pieces, the Widor Toccata is almost preternaturally well designed for the kind of practicing in altered rhythms that I mentioned in that column. Playing those sixteenth-note mordent-and-arpeggio figures first in fast groups of eight notes starting on the beat, then in fast groups of eight notes starting just after each beat, is remarkably effective for learning the piece itself and is also a good test case for my method. It is also undeniably fun to try to get at least a stretch of that piece as fast as you possibly can—and again a good test case for this approach. As with the Bach Toccata, Adagio, and Fugue in C, BWV 564, which we examined last month, it is not by any means necessary or even good to play the piece as fast as you possibly can. And with the Widor, there is an interesting history about tempo, since the composer changed the metronome markings through different editions, and he recorded it at a slightly different speed—slower than his slower metronome suggestion. 

This piece—or specifically the passages that are in the shape of the opening in the right hand—is also a good one for practicing stringing together smaller very fast gestures: seeing how long you can keep it going at a tempo defined not by what the music requires, but by simply trying to transfer the “fast, light drumming on a table” feeling to patterns on the keyboard. Once you have practiced two or three adjacent half-notes worth of the sixteenth-note pattern, try going through all of that material, again sometimes playing sixteen or twenty-four notes with the beat, sometimes playing the opening note and holding it for an unmeasured time, and then playing the following two or three groups in one gesture as fast as you can, ending on, and holding, the next downbeat. 

 

Utter predictability

Of course, this is all based on having achieved the utter predictability that is the foundation of being able to play fast. For one-note-at-a-time lines, that comes from a combination of sensible fingering and enough slow practice to get the elemental learning of the patterns to be way beyond just solid. The reason for considering building a potentially fast passage up out of smaller components (specifically as part of the process of getting it fast, or of testing and figuring out how fast it can be) is that the smaller the bit of music, the more promptly utter predictability can be achieved. In practicing a passage for really learning it—rather than as an exercise in moving around notes as quickly as possible—a player can decide to learn a longer stretch of music and move it up to tempo gradually (this is probably the most common method) or to learn very small bits, and get them up to (or beyond tempo) more quickly, and then work on putting them together. 

 

Achieving lightness

This feeling that we get from the drumming-fingers exercise of being able to move the fingers even more quickly than playing pieces will actually require is based quite crucially on keeping things light. It is easy to experience what happens if this lightness is compromised. Go back to simple drumming, then selectively tighten up various component parts of the physical mechanism that delivers your fingers to the table or chair-arm: shoulders, biceps, wrist, the fingers themselves. Each of these tightenings will have some effect on the ease, speed, and fluency of the drumming. The tightening of the fingers will be the worst, and will probably bring the drumming down below the velocity that you would like to be able to achieve. It will also most likely hurt. (Don’t do too much of it.) 

Playing lightly is always a good idea, always important. However, in trying to play anything that is fast enough that its speed is an issue, lightness is beyond just a good idea: it is a necessity. (Light, for this purpose, means with not too much more force than you need to make the keys go down, and with no tension whatsoever. It is the absence of tension that is the most important. The actual force of the downstroke of each finger is not as significant, as long as it is reasonably light, and as long as nothing in that downstroke predisposes the finger to have trouble coming back up, which is an impediment to velocity. Holding on to the keys after you have played them is to be avoided altogether. Experimenting with using so little force that you are almost not quite depressing the keys is a good idea, just to get the feel of it.)  

My so-called trill exercise (about which I wrote most recently in the December 2013 issue) is really about incorporating lightness and absolute lack of tension into fast playing. The trill in that case stands in for any fast playing, and, of course, as with the patterns that we have been dealing with here, it is fully predictable. (That exercise can also be found online here: http://gavinblack-baroque.com/trills.pdf). It works well to do a session of this exercise, then do something else for a while (practice something else, or get away from the keyboard altogether) and then play short excerpts from whatever passage you are working on playing at a challenging fast tempo, trying to remember and recapture the feeling of the trill exercise.

 

Tension and playing fast

Here are a couple of useful points to remember about the interaction between tension and fast playing. Physical tension, which physically inhibits speed, can have mental tension as one of its causes. And in turn, of course, nervousness about the ability to play a passage fast enough or to play it well at the appropriate tempo can be a cause of mental tension. This creates a sort of downward spiral or pernicious feedback loop. Part of the point of using the “drumming on a table” model to convince players that absolute velocity is not often the problem is to break this feedback loop. Also, there is a statement that goes like this: “If we want to accomplish something more, we have to exert ourselves more; playing faster is a form of accomplishing more, therefore to play faster we have to exert ourselves more; and exerting ourselves more means pushing harder.” Of course no one is going to spell this out: when you do it is obvious that it doesn’t add up. But it is a surprisingly pervasive underlying assumption, and we can help our students to let go of it by pointing it out.

(Playing very fast can seem like a tightrope act. The most instinctive way to avoid falling when we are afraid of falling is to hang on tight. This hanging on tight physically is, as I said above, fatal to velocity and to ease of playing in general. But hanging on tight while playing must be mental only: focus, concentration, paying attention to the music or to memory, and so on.) 

 

Transition points

Transition moments, where the hand has to move in some way, rather than just present fingers to the keyboard in one place, are a big part of the challenge when it comes to velocity. If there were no such moments, we could pretty much just transfer the drumming on a table feeling directly to at least any one-line passages. (But music would be much less interesting!) In real music these transition moments happen sometimes because we effectively just run out of fingers in one position: that is, they happen of necessity. Sometimes they happen because although we could encompass a certain set of successive notes in one position, that is not the most comfortable way to do so. But sometimes also they happen because the change in hand position creates an interpretive effect that we want. This latter situation is found in abundance in “early” fingering, that is, certain fingering patterns that were common and characteristic during and before the early eighteenth century. (Any identification of fingering approaches with any time period is really about tendencies, not absolutes.) These patterns involve using smaller chains of fingers to play small groups of notes, and then turning or moving the hand to present the next small group of fingers to the next set of notes. This was probably done to create articulation or to keep the hands in positions that enabled them to control the sensitive action of the prevailing kinds of instruments as minutely as possible, or some combination of these things. In any case, these fingerings routinely deprive the hand of the ability to sit over a group of notes and just drum those notes out. How does this relate to velocity?

 

Examples 1 and 2

Considering Examples 1 and 2, do these two fingerings for a basic scale fragment have significantly different ceilings to the tempo at which they can be played? Based on experience with the “drumming on a table” model, I would say that most players could execute the first fingering in not much more than half or two-thirds of a second. (That’s a “tempo” of quarter-note equals 700 or more.) The second fingering? I can’t picture anyone playing it that fast. Someone could surprise me, but certainly for most of us it can’t go at that speed. It is not the “drumming on a table” situation, because the transition points are too many and too frequent: every other note. 

 

Examples 3 and 4

Now considering Example 3, I feel pretty sure that most people could execute this one, including the transition moment going across the bar line, almost as fast as they could execute example 1: not quite, but almost. So in part it seems to be recovering from the transition, or executing multiple transitions in a row that lowers the ceiling on velocity. 

Practicing this sort of early fingering with a view to getting it fast can involve breaking things up into small units, and applying some of the principles of both my trill exercise and the sort of altered-rhythm practicing that we have been looking at. I have given two fingerings (for the right hand) for this pattern in Example 4. The upper one, with the hand remaining in one position, is for comparison. 

Using the lower fingering, try playing only the first note, then, in an untimed manner, only when you feel relaxed and ready, play the next two notes quickly. Prior to actually playing, map out the feeling of the fingering in your mind. There should be a small articulation between the second note and the third note. (There also can be one between the first note and the second note.) It doesn’t matter exactly how large or small these articulations are as long as the feeling is comfortable. The second finger should be released lightly before moving 3 over it. Don’t hold 2 to the point where the whole hand begins to turn upside down. Try doing the same thing starting on the third note and going to the first note of the second measure. Then try adding notes: start on the first note, wait until you feel relaxed and ready, and play four successive notes. 

Try various small units like this. (You can always try the same groups of notes using the upper fingering, to be reminded of the differences in the feeling.) After you have gone over all sorts of smaller groupings like this, try playing the passage itself as lightly and quickly as you can. (It can repeat indefinitely. Just do it several times, and don’t keep going if it feels stiff.)

Another aspect of the relationship between this sort of fingering and velocity turns things around. If you want an articulation at a certain point, then if you program that articulation into the fingering—using fingers that create a transition moment that makes a space or breath—then that articulation will automatically be there at any tempo. In Example 3 with the given fingering, you will create a small articulation at the bar line. That articulation is not dependent on anything that you do other than executing the fingering. It will be there, proportionate to the tempo, at any tempo. If you change the fingering to 5-4-3-2-1, and still want that articulation (between 2 and 1) then you have to remember to do it on purpose, consciously lifting 2 early by just the right amount. Above a certain speed it becomes very hard; above another, higher tempo, it actually becomes quite impossible. 

In the course of working out these last couple of columns, I have realized that it would be a mistake to try to include a discussion of velocity in more complicated textures here. That would constitute giving it short shrift. Therefore, I will devote a fourth column to that, next month. In addition to talking about two-voice and multiple-voice textures and chords, and a bit about getting comfortable playing fast in both hands together, I will return to some of the questions from the beginning of the first column in this series and talk a bit about the connections between gaining greater ability to play with great velocity and aspects of interpretation and effective performance.

Gavin Black

Gavin Black is director of the Princeton Early Keyboard Center in Princeton, New Jersey. His website is gavinblack-baroque.com, and he can be reached by email at [email protected].

Helping Students Choose Fingerings II

This month I want to pose a most fundamental question: should we give fingerings to our students, or should we instead ask them to work out their own fingerings, with guidance from us? It is likely that with most teachers, for most students, the answer will be some of both. But that leaves the question of how to arrive at the right balance. And it also leaves a whole set of questions about how best to carry out each approach. This is not a cleanly separate issue from questions of what constitutes good fingering or what good procedure for working on fingering would be in general. But it is interesting to try to tease it out a bit on its own. 

I will start by confessing my own bias, the same bias that governs my thinking about most matters. My orientation is always towards letting students figure things out for themselves. It seems logical to let students start as soon as possible (not sooner) practicing whatever it is that we want them to learn to do. And that is (almost) always the act of working something out, not the act of executing something. This is true as to interpretive matters, concrete ones such as registration or choice of tempo, and more diffuse or flexible ones such as timing, rhythm, articulation, phrasing, and so on. It is more important for a student to engage in the process of learning how to work out interpretive matters than to give a performance today or tomorrow that you or I would like, or even that the student would endorse or enjoy listening to some years down the road. This is a version of the old “teach someone to fish” idea. 

This is subject to all sorts of nuance. For example, when does someone stop being a student? When does the execution of an effective performance become the most important priority? Are we not all to some extent continuing to learn the various processes, and don’t we all hope that our performances will get better and better, whatever that means to each of us? Looking back on our past performances, we should probably hope not to like them entirely, but to be grateful for what we learned from them. It is not a bad idea to invite your students to reinvent the wheel if you are hoping to teach them not how to use wheels or how to make wheels but how to invent wheels.

I confess this bias not to embrace it, but to push back against it or at least to examine whether and how it makes sense here. There are some things that need to be taught in a different way. The clearest of these tend to be practical. For example, if someone asks me to show them how to make the loop at the end of a harpsichord string, I will not just hand them a piece of wire and suggest that they figure it out. I will make a loop for them and describe to them in detail what I am doing. Then I will repeat that as necessary before asking them to try. There are some wheels that really don’t need to be reinvented. Likewise I don’t leave students to figure out entirely for themselves what sort of practice protocols and strategies work best. I can show a student many things that do work, but it is open-ended; they can also figure out others for themselves. I do take a sort of “re-invent the wheel” approach to the art of registration, for another example, but not to showing a student how the combination system works. When I have out-and-out information that a student does not have, I share it.

Even though no one would disagree that the long-term goal is to teach students how to work out fingerings, rather than to teach them fingerings, there is room for debate about how best to do that. Does an approach of letting students come up with their own fingerings with some discussion of principles, some feedback, and maybe occasional suggestions (what I might call my approach just for short) actually lead students most efficiently towards being able to work out fingerings for themselves? Or does it work better to show the student many examples of really good fingering, in one piece after another, and let the student learn from observation what good fingering is and how to achieve it? 

For the moment, we are taking this to be independent of the question of what good fingering is. For the latter, more teacher-oriented, approach to work, it has to be understood that the teacher knows a lot about how to concoct good fingerings. I will deal with that more directly in subsequent columns, and in the end it interacts with what we are discussing here.

 

Advantages of two approaches

I would like to outline some pluses and minuses of each approach, as I see it. I start this with a few thoughts about my approach and continue next month with corresponding thoughts about the more interventionist approach. First, a few advantages or strong points about the approach of largely letting students concoct their own fingerings: 

1) It is an opportunity to practice autonomy and thinking for oneself. This is particularly relevant because, largely as a result of editors’ fingerings being found in so many printed editions of music, it is easy for fingering to take on an oppressive feeling of authority. The particular form in which a student asks a question about fingering is often this: What is the fingering for this passage? That reflects an unconscious acceptance of the notion that there “is” a fingering, that the fingering for the passage is somehow a given, handed down by those who know. There is plenty in life that must be treated this way. Fingering doesn’t. Sometimes when I respond to that question with “there ‘is’ no fingering. The fingering will be what you work it out to be.” That is immediately and significantly liberating to the student, even a revelation.

2) It involves practicing as directly as possible what the student needs to learn to do. As I said above, I have a bias in favor of this in general, all else being equal. Every instance of a student’s thinking, “Does this feel better or does that? Does it sound different with fingering x from fingering y? Does using this finger here make it easier to get to that finger there? What specific part of the passage demands a particular finger, and how can I shape the fingering around that, before and after?” makes it easier and more natural for the student to apply that kind of thinking later. 

3) A student knows his or her hands best, or can learn to. Sometimes no matter how self-evident it is to me that a given finger lies naturally over a given note, that conclusion indeed turns out to be just about my hand, and for the student it is different. Take this chord:

 

If the student and I would both put 2 on the F# and 5 on the C, we might comfortably put any of the remaining three fingers on the A. I would play it with 3, assuming that there was nothing before or after to make that problematic. I could also be happy with 1: definitely not 4. But I have known a player to find 4 much more comfortable than the other two choices in this exact situation. This is something that no one but the actual player knows, whether that player is a student or not. And the differences can be subtle. For this:

 

I would definitely want 1 on the A, not either 3 or 4. Others could prefer any of the three. A note about this example: I would respect any student’s choice about a finger for that A. However, I would try to convince the student not to play the F# with 1. See #1 below!

4) Working out a detailed, specific fingering in as analytical a manner as possible is a magnificent way to learn the notes of a piece, or to solidify that learning. It is so effective in this respect that if a player becomes accomplished to the point of not needing to work out fingerings in a purposeful manner, that dimension of learning the piece has to be replaced by something else. This is related to the fact that a danger for really great sight-readers is that of giving un-thought-out performances. Executing a fingering that has been provided by someone else doesn’t fulfill this function.

There is an interesting paradox to be found here. If you work out fingerings really well and carefully for a passage, the learning that that process entails would also make it easier and more secure for you to get through the passage without a systematic fingering. But that stage is by then already past. However, it is possible that working out careful fingerings oneself leads to better sight-reading of subsequent pieces.

5) Some students enjoy this process, find it intellectually interesting, challenging, and satisfying. 

6) Every student will from time to time think of a really good fingering that the teacher would not have thought of. Thus learning can become a two-way street.

 

Disadvantages

What are some disadvantages of this approach, or things to watch out for? 

1) The student may create and use fingerings that are actually physically damaging. That is almost always a result of hand positions that involve twisting the wrists too far outward, or that are otherwise stiff or painful. A teacher should always be on the lookout for this and be prepared to explain to the student what is wrong with such fingerings. If fingering creates a physiologically bad hand position, then it is not acceptable to live with that fingering even briefly.

2) More often than the above, a student will devise fingerings that are just not the best musically or logistically. It simply reflects that we are dealing with something that has to be learned, and that we are in the early stages of that learning. To the extent that we choose to let students work out, and then drill and use, their own fingerings, we are saying that the advantages of that approach make it worth it for the student to live through a period of using “bad” fingerings, fingerings that a more expert player would not have chosen. When these are fingerings that do not have the characteristic of being physically harmful, then that is possibly an acceptable situation. But it needs to be thought about.

3) This approach takes more time. For a student to work out fingerings carefully takes longer than for the teacher, an experienced player, to lean over the music desk and write fingerings. (Even quicker is for the teacher to have worked out fingerings for pieces in advance, independent of who the student is going to be. The quickest of all is for there already to be fingerings in the edition. Both of these are problematic, though, for reasons that I will get to later on.) The trade-off here is between this concern about time and point #4 above. Is the time that is put in this way repaid by learning, or is it just time that could have been spent better—for example, working on more pieces?

4) Some students specifically don’t want to work out their own fingerings. This can come from different places, and an awareness of where it comes from can help us think about how to deal with it. A student may feel incompetent to think independently about fingering. This in turn may be a simple acknowledgement of the fact of inexperience, or may come from a temperamental lack of comfort with autonomy. It is never actually true, it’s just about comfort. A student may be aware of the time-consuming nature of careful fingering work and prefer to spend that time a different way. A student may be unconvinced of the notion that different players’ hands, and other aspects of their playing, may require different fingerings, and therefore simply not be aware of the value of chipping in his or her own perspective. The student may feel unprepared to think about fingering for a specific reason, like an awareness of the historical component of fingering, coupled with an awareness of the student’s own lack of the relevant historical knowledge. 

I will continue this discussion from this point next month. However, I toss in here one fingering example. It is a bit random, just a sort of souvenir of the column. It is a rare fingering that I was specifically proud of when I first thought of it. It helped me turn what had been a difficult-to-impossible passage for me into something at least bordering on easy, and certainly very reliable. It was quite a few years ago, I don’t remember when exactly, a milestone for me in deriving fingering from hand position and in thinking outside of what was at the time quite a small box. I suppose that my particular excuse for including it here is this: that one of the pleasures of fingering is that of sharing neat, surprising, useful discoveries with other people who happen to share this arcane interest. That can be our students, among others, and remembering simply to enjoy that is part of the pleasure of teaching. This is the upper two voices of a bit from very near the end of the fugue from Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in F Major, BWV 540, in the right hand. (See preceding page at top.) Try it out. Does it work for your hand? Enjoy!