The Most Important Practice Technique

From PIANO PEDAGOGY FORUM v. 1, no. 2/May 1, 1998

One man may practice daily on a musical instrument and fail to make any progress, while another shows daily improvement. Perhaps the nature of the talent that is the accepted explanation for this divergence of achievement derives from the fact that the second student observes what he is doing while he plays while the first one only repeats and memorizes and relies on the assumption that sufficient repetition of a bad performance will somehow bring about musical perfection.

- Moshe Feldenkrais¹

To students who have no idea how to practice a new piece I suggest that there are basically four types of practice: 1) slow practice; 2) hands-separate practice; 3) practicing groupings (stopping between groups of notes); and 4) "structural" practice (building a passage from the most important notes). There are, of course, many useful practice techniques that don't fit into these categories, but this gives the student someplace to start in organizing his practice possibilities. By far the most useful of these techniques is slow practice. In this article I would like not just to extol the benefits of slow practice in general, but to consider some of its specific possibilities. If the student knows why he is practicing in a certain way - what he should be thinking about while he's practicing - he can benefit much more from his work.

One of the problems a student may have in learning a new piece is the misconception that what he is doing is "learning the notes." What he really wants to do is "learn the music." There is a big difference here. The student's mind is better focused on "how does this sound," and "how should this feel" - in other words "how shall I play this" - rather than "what notes should I play." His brain is thus engaged more in sensing than in doing. The real music is in the details and the details are in the sensing. If he focuses merely on playing right notes, intending to worry about interpretation (how to play) later, then by the time he gets around to really listening to the music, he will already have had the sound of senseless playing in his ears for long time.

To a student this may sound like an impossible assignment. How can he do everything perfectly - shaping, phrasing, balancing, timing, and everything else - the first time through? The answer is that perfection is not the requirement; what's needed is simply the right point of view. If from the beginning he is focused on sensing how the music needs to sound and how he needs to move in order to accomplish that - and with every repetition he tries to sense those things better and better - he will be on a very positive path.

I once heard a student ask the eminent pianist and teacher George Sebok how he practices. I don't remember Sebok's exact reply, but it was something like, "I practice to keep a smooth mind." He explained that he varies the tempo of his practice so that his mind doesn't hurry. Even if I don't remember Sebok's exact words, I remember the moment well, because it changed forever the way I practice. I understood immediately that the hurrying mind, rushed in its thinking, is the bane of practicing - and of performing as well. When the mind is hurried it does not have time to notice what is really happening. It does not focus well and many of the details of the music go by unnoticed. One has only the feeling, "I got it," but the experience of the music is shallow.

In light of Sebok's comment let's rethinking what we mean by slow practice. He didn't actually say that he practices slowly but that he uses a flexible tempo that enables him to keep an unhurried mind. This is much different from setting a slow tempo and adhering to it. It is simply choosing a tempo that at every moment adapts itself to the needs of a sensing mind. It means taking whenever time is necessary to produce a musical phrase and move in a coordinated manner. One's mind feels in sync with the music. It includes even stopping, of course, if that is necessary to prepare for the music to come or to hear the music in the mind before playing it. It is really a wonderful philosophy of practice - that playing something before you're ready is not productive.

The idea of practicing with a flexible tempo, even a rhythm that is constantly adjusting to the needs of the mind, may sound dangerous. Won't one simply end up with a distorted sense of rhythm and tempo? In fact, that has not been my experience, at least with high school and college level students. I have given this considerable thought, and I have come to the conclusion that rhythm is not perceived entirely in terms of durations. Strange is it may sound, rhythm may be very much a matter of inflection. Otherwise, the simplest rubato or rhythmic nuance would sound like nonsense. This can be demonstrated to the student by playing a passage with highly distorted durations but all the right rhythmic inflections - pickups that sound like pickups, for example, even though highly elongated. The student is able to identify the rhythms, despite the distortions. I certainly agree that this type of practice may be inappropriate for a beginning student who is just learning his rhythmic values. Yet it may be just what is needed by a more advanced student who is rhythmically erratic. His rhythmic sloppiness is probably due precisely to his not taking the time to understand the function and organization of the rhythm.

There is one problem that may arise from rhythmically flexible practice. If the student takes extra time at a certain spot over and over again, it may become a part of the way he hears it. One really doesn't want a certain way of practicing to become so ingrained that it becomes compulsive. (This would be true of any kind of practice.) If he finds that he constantly needs extra time there, he should make an effort to take the extra time earlier in the passage, so that he may be prepared for the "problem" spot before he gets to it. The object of his practice is, after all, to gain an understanding of the music that allows him to play the music the way he wants it to sound. Practicing with a flexible tempo is simply a means for him to gain that understanding.

Bringing a piece gradually up to performance tempo can be a challenge for the student. Many students use a metronome for this purpose, increasing the tempo little by little. Sometimes I recommend this technique, but it is not ideal. Gaining a faster tempo may become the sole objective, with the sacrifice of all musical considerations. The metronome, after all, has no idea how the music is put together. It produces simply a string of beats. The problem with quickening the tempo can be the way one practices slowly (or flexibly). One needs always to feel the momentum of the music, the way one note spills over into the next, even at a slow tempo. To introduce the student to this feeling, the teacher can use a simple exercise. Walk with the student across the room. Then turn around and prepare to walk in a different manner. Rise up on your tiptoes with the student and lean forward gradually until you both take natural, easy steps in order not to fall over. The first time you do this you will probably have to take fast steps, because you lean too much. Do it again together, sensing how little you need to lean to take easy steps and even slow steps. Then the student will learn that the tempo of his walking depends not on how fast he moves his legs, but on how much he leans. Notice how easy it is to move fast this way and how it feels to lean so little that you move slowly. If the student can transfer this feeling to the piano, then his slow playing can naturally lead to faster playing. He will have gained a natural ability to play faster when he is ready.

Students often have the unfortunate misconception that slow practice is useful only for new pieces. The truth is that the benefits of listening and sensing only increase as one is gradually able to play a piece with less and less effort. And the faster and more complex the piece, the more important slow practice becomes. In order to play a fast piece efficiently and musically one needs such mastery of every detail and such perfection of every gesture that he doesn't need to think hurriedly in order to play it. If he has to hurry to play a passage, then he doesn't know the passage yet.

The gist of this article is the suggestion that slow practice is not just playing slowly. I once had the secret pleasure of listening to Sviatoslav Richter practice on the day of a concert. At first I was struck by the extreme slowness of his practice, but gradually it dawned on me that this was exquisite playing. Every note seemed to be perfectly placed and no phrase suffered from the slow tempo. Richter was taking the time to experience the music as deeply as possible. The longer I work at playing the piano the more I find I am drawn to this kind of practice. No matter how frantic my everyday life becomes, I'll always have this refuge in my practice - where there is time to search for the kind of music I really love.

Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you are no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn't just a means to an end but a unique event in itself. This leaf has jagged edges. This rock looks loose. From this place the snow is less visible, even though closer. These are things you should notice anyway. To live only for some future goal is shallow. It's the sides of the mountain which sustain live, not the top. Here's where things grow.

- Robert M. Pirsig²

References

1. Awareness Through Movement (New York: Harper and Rowe:, 1972) p. 137.
2. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (New York: William Morrow, 1974).

Edward Gates is Professor of Piano and Coordinator of the Applied Division of the University of Oklahoma School of Music. He teaches undergraduate and graduate applied piano as well as selected graduate seminars in piano literature. Hailed as "a splendid pianist" by The New York Times, he has performed in solo recitals and chamber concerts throughout the United States. He has been guest soloist with orchestras under such conductors as Robert Shaw, Guy Fraser Harrison and Luis Herrara. A graduate of Oberlin College Conservatory and the Indiana University School of Music, he has studied at the Mozarteum Akademie in Salzburg and at the Hochschule fŸr Musik in Vienna. In 1971 he received a Fulbright grant to do research on Eighteenth Century pianos at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. In 1992 he was invited to give recitals, lectures and master classes in Taiwan and the Peoples Republic of China. In 1987 he received the University of Oklahoma Regents Award for Superior Teaching, and in 1991 he received the Burlington Northern Award for Faculty Achievement.

Edward Gates
School of Music
University of Oklahoma
Norman, OK 73019
egates@ou.edu
405.325.3454

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