Dear Mr. Chappell:
Is there some simple way to play the piano? It seems so complicated.
— Simplifier
Dear Simplifier:
Actually, there is a lot to know, but it really boils down to this: to play the piano, put a finger on a key and push down. Then there is a corollary: And, at all times and to the maximum extent, touch the key in advance of putting it down.
You’d be surprised at how far just this bit of information will take you.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
It feels like my hands are too small to play octaves and other wide intervals on the keyboard. I'm young and I know that my hands will grow eventually, but your suggestions or tips would be most welcome!
— Growing Person
Dear Growing Person:
You can stretch your hands---gently and carefully----as follows:
Put your index fingers on the edge of a table with the other fingers and thumbs hanging down. Don't just touch the tips of the fingers on the edge of the table, put the entire finger on top of the table S-T-R-E-T-C-H between the number 2 and 3 fingers by gently pushing down. Now switch and put the fingers numbers 3, 4, and 5 on the top edge of the table with the index fingers and thumbs hanging down. Stretch between number 2 and 3 fingers again.
Now put fingers 2 and 3 on the table with numbers 4 and 5 and the thumbs hanging down. Stretch. Put 4 and 5 on the table with 2 and 3 and the thumbs hanging down. Stretch.
Now put fingers 2, 3, and 4 on the table with number 5 and the thumbs hanging down. Stretch. Put number 5 on the table with 2, 3, and 4 and the thumbs hanging down. Stretch.
Now put the thumbs on the table with the other fingers hanging down. Stretch. Done.
Do this often and never uncomfortably. See if that helps.
Here is what some people do that you should NEVER do: put the thumb and index finger of one hand between two fingers of the other hand, separate that thumb and index finger, and stretch the two fingers in a sideways direction. Not only is this harmful, but it doesn't really stretch what needs to be stretched.
Good luck.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I am teaching an adult student with very big hands. For example, it is easier and more comfortable for him to play a fifth using 1 and 3 than it is using 1 and 5. Should I try to have him conform to standard fingerings? Any words of wisdom you can offer would be greatly appreciated.
— Teacher
Dear Teacher:
That is a fascinating question. It kind of splits down the line of “things every pianist needs to be able to do” versus “accommodating individual characteristics”.
The real answer is to be able to do anything. So, from that standpoint, he should be able to use any fingering and any hand position. After that is established, he can choose to do whatever he wants to.
Have the student play all intervals with all pairs of fingers. So, play all 12 minor seconds, all 12 major seconds, all 12 minor thirds, etc., in ascending and descending chromatic order (example: minor seconds: C-Db, C#-D, D-Eb, etc.) with the following fingering combinations: 1-2, 1-3, 1-4, 1-5, 2-3, 2-4, 2-5, 3-4, 3-5, and 4-5. It’s rigorously methodical and therefore potentially tedious, so perhaps you should assign a couple of intervals per week if that would make the going smoother.
Also have him play various 5-note combinations all fingered as right hand 1-2-3-4-5 and left hand 5-4-3-2-1, with different distances between the keys such as: chromatic (example: C-C#-D-D#-E), major and minor diatonic (C-D-E-F-G or C-D-Eb-F-G); whole tone (C-D-E-F#-G#); diminished 7th chord (C-Eb-F#-A-C); augmented triad (C-E-G#-C-E); and quartal (C-F-Bb-Eb-Ab), and have him transpose them to all 12 positions. If he can play the groupings both as chords and as ascending/descending single note patterns (or even other creative patterns for that matter), it would be good also.
Now that I’ve dreamed that up for you, I think I’ll start having all of my students do it.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I’m having trouble playing several octaves in a row with one hand, as in playing a scale, arpeggio, or melody in octaves. Do you have any tips?
— Doubler
Dear Doubler:
Remember that the classic fingering for octaves is 1 and 5 on white keys, and 1 and 4 on black keys. This is because the fourth finger is longer than the fifth finger, and consequently more easily reaches the black keys.
If the octave passage in question includes both white and black key octaves, keep your thumb near the black keys so that the hand doesn’t move back and forth to travel from white to black. Your thumb should move in a straight line right and left, in other words, in order to negotiate the passage efficiently.
When you move from one octave to the next, don’t let your hand change shape. Keep the frame of an octave between your thumb and fourth (or fifth) finger at all times.
You can play octaves with an arm technique, a wrist technique, or a finger technique. In each case, only the arm moves as a unit from the elbow joint, or only the hand moves as a unit from the wrist joint (like waving goodbye), or only the fingers move. By “as a unit”, I mean “without bending any other joints.” One of these techniques works best for each musical passage. Try each to determine which one suits what you are working on.
If you need speed and efficiency, don’t lift your hand up in the air when traveling from one to the next octave. Move sideways only, staying as near to the key surface as possible.
As is always the case when playing the piano, you need to choose a focal point for your attention. I recommend that you think of, and if possible look at, your thumb as you play the octaves. Let the other note in the octave just be a companion to the thumb.
To reinforce this idea, practice the octave passage by playing only the notes that the thumb plays, omitting the other note in the octave.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
What can I do to make playing trills easier on the piano?
— Triller
Dear Triller:
A trill is the alternation of two notes that are either a half step or a whole step apart. It consists of the principal note, which is the lower note, and the auxiliary note, which is the higher note.
(There is one notable exception to this, which is a trill passage in the first movement cadenza of Maurice Ravel’s Concerto in G. Here, the principal note is the higher note and the auxiliary note is the lower note.)
The two notes are played at a speed that is more rapid than the fastest notes in the rest of the piece of music. However, the general tempo marking affects the speed of the trill also: a trill in an adagio is slower than a trill in an allegro. Therefore, the first thing you can do to make playing a trill easier is to play it more slowly. The evenness of the notes is more important than their speed in creating a satisfying effect.
Another way that you can make playing a trill easier is to put the damper pedal down while trilling. The notes will blend together and will give the impression of greater speed and smoothness. In fact, I recommend that you do this for almost every trill, and you will understand why when you try it and hear the result.
The exception to pedaling while trilling is when the piece of music is being interpreted without using much pedal to begin with. This would include the playing of a beginning pianist who hasn’t learned yet how to use the pedal, as well as the playing of an interpreter who purposely avoids the use of the pedal particularly in the works of the Baroque period.
There are two kinds of trills: measured and unmeasured. A measured trill is one that has an even number of notes in it that are played at a two-to-one ratio against the other notes that sound with it; for example, a measured trill in the right hand might be the equivalent of sixteenth notes when played against eighth notes in the left hand. You can make playing a trill easier by making it a measured trill. Measured trills usually sound best in Baroque or Classical period music when the duration of the trill is short.
An unmeasured trill is played without calculating its mathematical relation to the other notes that sound with it; instead, it is just a blur that happens to start and stop at the right time. It is more often the musically appropriate choice.
You can make playing a trill easier by choosing a good fingering. Ideally, a pianist would be able to play trills with any pair of adjacent fingers. However, our fingers are of different lengths and strengths. Therefore, you will find that some combinations of pairs of fingers provide greater strength and control than others. Using 2 and 3 is going to be the most favorable fingering, and using 3 and 4 (or, for some people, 4 and 5) is going to be the most disadvantageous fingering. Whenever possible, use the strongest combination of fingers.
Trills can also be fingered with two fingers that are not adjacent, such as 1 and 3, 2 and 4, and 3 and 5. For some people, these combinations bring a surprising amount of strength and control. Test them out and see if you are one of these people.
Research has shown that when the thumb is one of the two fingers used in a trill, greater speed results when you rotate the arm. If the thumb is not involved, greater speed results by using finger movement only and keeping the arm still.
There is another trill fingering using three fingers that you may find published in some editions or taught to you by your piano teacher. That fingering is 1-3-2-3, and if you were trilling from C to D, you would play 1 on C, 3 on D, 2 on C, and 3 on D, and then repeat. I suppose that the premise for changing fingers on the principal note is to reduce tension. It is inherently less efficient because you are using three fingers instead of two, but you may find that works easily and comfortably for you.
You can make playing a trill easier by taking inventory of the combination of black and white keys that are being played. Trilling two white or two black keys is easier than trilling from a black key to a white key or from a white key to a black key. In the case of one key of each color, you will need to experiment with fingering to find what works best. You will also need to position the hand closer to the fall board (the part of the piano that you close and open to cover and uncover the keyboard) so that you are located more in the region of the black keys. That will make playing the trill easier.
You can make playing a trill easier by keeping the fingers close to the keys instead of lifting them in the air above the keys. Ideally, your fingers will maintain contact with the keys both as the keys descend and as they ascend.
In fact, after putting a key down it is not necessary to allow the key to return all the way up to its original starting position before playing it again. Try this: push down a key, and then very slowly let it rise. Put it down again before it gets all the way back to its starting position. If you keep experimenting with doing this, you will find the spot to which you must, at a minimum, raise the key in order to make sound when you put it down again. It might be less than a half of an inch from the bottom.
You can make playing a trill easier by moving the fingers less than a half of an inch down and up. This is particularly effective for playing trills softly.
You can make playing a trill easier by using the following exercise: first, hold down the principal note while quickly repeating the auxiliary note many times; then hold down the auxiliary note while quickly repeating the principal note many times.
You can make playing a trill easier by focusing your listening. Remember that a trill is an ornament. The auxiliary note ornaments the principal note. It is preferable in most cases to focus your listening on the principal note and to play it louder than the auxiliary note.
An exception to this would be an extended trill played when the music is in a heightened state of expression and when a maximum effect of brightness is desired. In that case, both notes should be played loudly.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
One of your piano axioms is to "touch the keys before you play them". I find this technique to be a helpful for any type of piece or passage. I must confess that I grapple with this idea as it pertains to leaps. What do you suggest?
— Vaulter
Dear Vaulter:
Actually, the axiom is "to the greatest degree possible, touch the keys before you play them". When playing leaps, sometimes it is not possible to do this to a great degree.
There are a few things you can do to facilitate leaps. One is to practice with closed eyes. This will help you to develop a sense of distance between different keyboard locations, which helps when playing leaps.
Also, if playing more than one note when arriving at the destination of the leap, such as playing an octave or chord, it helps to focus attention on one finger only (either the thumb or fifth finger when playing an octave; one of the outer or inner notes of the chord when playing a chord). Run experiments with different focal points to find out which works to the greatest advantage. Very often, assigning the best focal point can dissolve technical problems automatically.
It also helps to look before you leap—a quick glance at the target note for the finger that is the focus of attention ensures greater accuracy. This can work even if you then must look elsewhere before playing the leap.
I use a leap exercise which goes like this: play octaves, one hand at a time (either hand). First play one note, then the note that is a step higher, return to first note, then a step higher than previous high note, return to first note, then a step higher than previous high note, etc. For example, if using the chromatic scale, you’d play (in octaves) C, C#, C, D, C, Eb, C, E, etc., until the high note is the next octave higher C than the return note (or you can go up to even two octaves higher). Also, do this descending with C, B, C, Bb, C, A, etc. This can be done with major or minor scales as well if preferred. The tempo should be very slow, but the notes should be staccato and the movement through the air (lateral, close to the keyboard, and not up-down) should be as fast as possible. However, upon arrival, hover for a couple seconds over the keys motionlessly instead of playing the note, during which time you should look at the NEXT note you will play, not the one you are touching; then play the note you are touching very staccato and zoom to position over the next note and hover; etc.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I know I should play exercises like Czerny. Can you help me figure out which ones are the best?
— Exerciser
Dear Exerciser:
It’s important not just to play piano etudes and exercises because they seem to be part of everyone’s piano lessons, but instead to really take inventory of the benefits of each one and use them purposefully.
Hanon exercises are good as finger calisthenics and they contribute to even playing in terms of rhythm and tempo, to the development of speed, and to fingering facility. They also help with playing the two hands simultaneously.
Philipp and Pischna exercises are good for strength and independence of the fingers because they involve holding some notes while playing others at the same time.
Czerny is musically very unrewarding. I generally avoid assigning his exercises. I think that the exercises by J. B. Cramer are far superior as actual pieces of music, and as a result students enjoy playing them more and get more out of them. I recommend them over Czerny’s works.
But Czerny is okay if it contributes to general fluency at the keyboard. He tended to write the same exercise several times, so after you have done one exercise, try to find one that has a distinctly different technical challenge.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
My piano teacher is trying to teach me more about looking at the music I am playing and trying to see chords instead of just seeing note, note, note. I am wondering if you can tell me something to help me with this.
— Generalizer
Dear Generalizer:
What you are describing is the ability to see groups of notes instead of individual notes. I suggest that you play lots of chords on the keyboard—twelve major chords (starting from each of the twelve notes of the chromatic scale), twelve minor, and so forth.
You should also find other ways of thinking groups of notes in one thought, such as playing a scale (example: C major) with four fingers of each hand (L.H. would be C, D, E, F and R.H. would be G, A, B, C) and putting all eight notes down simultaneously. This is perhaps not so nice to hear, but if you can do this with all of your major and minor scales, you will enhance your cognition of the scales and increase your ability to think "in the key of".
The next step for you would be to play the seven chords found in each scale. Example: in C major, you can play chord number 1 (based on the first note of the scale) as C-E-G, chord number 2 as D-F-A, chord number 3 as E-G-B, 4 as F-A-C, 5 as G-B-D, 6 as A-C-E, 7 as B-D-F. If you can also do this in the remaining eleven major keys, you’ll be way ahead.
Finally, look at a piece of music you are learning and try to identify the chords in the piece as chord number 1, 2, 3, etc. in that key.
This will get you grounded in seeing patterns in music and in perceiving how groups of notes relate to other groups of notes.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I was reading your article on pedals and was wondering if you could name some piano pieces that utilize the sostenuto pedal.
— Pedaler
Dear Pedaler:
If I spent even more time researching this, I could find even more instances for you. It tends to be, of course, later-20th- and 21st-century composers who use this indication. Some performers use the sostenuto pedal at their own discretion to facilitate passages in Debussy’s and Ravel’s music in particular and elsewhere ad libitum.
Closing thought: organ transcriptions for solo piano would be the ideal material for this usage. I don’t see any indications in Busoni’s transcriptions at a quick glance, but Harold Bauer used it on page 9 of the Schirmer edition of Bach’s Toccata in D Major (harpsichord, not organ, actually) and pages 3, 4, and 5 of Arthur Brisker’s transcription of Bach’s Great Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor, Carl Fischer edition.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I recently witnessed you break a string while performing. What commentary do you have to offer on the resilience of the modern piano as compared with the piano of Beethoven’s or Liszt’s day? I understand that the strings don’t break anywhere near as much as they did back then. Do you believe that had you been a pianist at the time of the earlier piano you would have played with less force to keep the strings intact?
— Audience Member
Dear Audience Member:
I don’t think it’s something that can be generalized necessarily. Certain individual pianos, some of them even Steinway concert grands, have shown a propensity for having their strings broken. Other pianos seem never to have this problem. But it is not according to brand name, size, or year of construction. It is just some overloaded feature in the mechanism that favors broken strings happening. Once in awhile, a player can use such force that strings can break, but that is rare. More often, the piano wire is worn out.
I suppose I would play an older-style piano differently than I do the modern instrument, not to avoid breaking strings but to take advantage of whatever sound palette was indigenous to it. I play the piano forcefully because that is how I get the sonority that I desire. I would adjust to another instrument according to its sonic properties.
I once broke the D two octaves above middle C during a concert performance of the Brahms Second Concerto, and I was only in the second movement. That was quite an inconvenience. While a student at Curtis Institute, I had a Steinway B in my apartment that had a propensity for breaking bass strings. I used to hang the broken ones on my wall as trophies.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
Often a music critic will say that a pianist had nice colors, and teachers and pianists always talk about touch and tone. What does “colors” mean? How can an interpreter change colors? Doesn’t the composer decide the colors? Can you change the touch and tone without changing the dynamics, or is touch a myth? What is “voicing of textures”, “aural imagination”, and “orchestral sonorities”, for which Daniel Barenboim praised Radu Lupu’s playing in an article that I read recently?
— Simeon
Dear Simeon:
First of all, color, tone, tone quality, sound quality, sonority, and timbre are all essentially the same thing.
If someone says that a pianist has nice colors, it means that the pianist is using artistic ways of enhancing the basic sound of the piano.
The basic sound of the piano is what you get by simply pushing the keys down. Someone who is playing the piano just to hear notes—for example, while working on a theory exercise—simply pushes the keys down.
But pianists who study compositions written specifically for performance on the piano spend their lives developing the artistic enhancements that create colors, in order to convey nuances of musical expression.
The composer doesn’t decide the colors, unless the composer is writing for and combining the sounds of several instruments, and especially for an orchestra. Then the composer decides what the desired colors are. The composer for the piano can suggest colors by writing in a certain way or another, but it is the prerogative of the solo instrumentalist to create an interpretation according to his or her own sense of color.
In relation to this, I recently heard someone say that the advantage of the piano is that it can suggest many instruments other than itself. For example, a melody written in the range that a flute would play in, or that a cello would play in, can inspire the pianist to create sounds like those other instruments. This would account for the mention of “orchestral sonorities”.
How pianists create colors is to use touch, pedaling, overtones, and the balance of simultaneous layers of dynamics. A change in any of those categories will change the sound of the piano, and there are variables within each category. Their effects on sound are not a myth, but they are subtle and they can also depend on psychological states to some extent.
The variables of touch are: in what direction your arms, hands, and fingers move; how fast or how slowly they move; how heavy or how light they feel as you push down a piano key; whether they move from a position above, below, or level with the keys; and whether they push the key down from its surface or by landing on it from the air.
It also includes whether they are loose or firm and whether they are curved or straight, and it includes whether the finger slides on the key or stays on one point of contact.
Another variable is how far down you push the key. After you push it down enough to make sound, there is still a fraction of an inch farther that it can go. This is called the “aftertouch”.
To find the aftertouch, push down two adjacent white keys, such as A and B, with fingers of your left hand. Now leave your them there while pushing down the B with your right index finger as hard as you can. The B will go farther down than the A, into the aftertouch.
The most substantial piano sound is produced by getting the key all the way down into the aftertouch, even at soft dynamic levels.
This brings up the relation of touch to dynamics. Changing touch has to do with more than changing dynamics. But there is a side to this that is somewhat intangible. It has to do with having an imaginative concept of the sound that you want to produce.
I could ask you to play something louder. Or instead I could ask you to play it with a fuller sonority that is more projecting, perhaps emulating the sound of an opera singer. In that case, the loudness is the effect of an intention that isn’t really about playing louder. This would account for the mention of “aural imagination”.
The remaining points can be dealt with more briefly:
The primary use of the pedals is to enhance the sound color of the piano, and you can read more about this in the article “The Use of the Pedals” on this website.
You can become aware of activating overtones on the piano by putting down the pedal and repeating the same note several times slowly. Notice that there are slight differences in the sound quality with each strike of the hammer on the strings. Some strikes of the hammer reinforce lower overtones and have more of an “oo” sound; others reinforce higher overtones and have more of an “ee” sound. Experiment with reproducing these results to create different colors.
You can balance simultaneous sounds by having, for example, the highest note of a texture be the loudest or instead have the lowest note of a texture be the loudest. Enhancing the high notes is said to give the sound a brighter color and enhancing the low notes is said to give the sound a darker color. This would account for your mention of “voicing of textures”.
Something not commonly realized about layers of different loudnesses is that in some cases, particularly with contrapuntal compositions like those of Bach, the assignment of a dynamic level to a melodic line has the effect of giving it an identity not of being loud or soft but of simply having a sound that is distinct from the other melodic lines. This allows for all of the simultaneous lines to be heard distinctly and as having equal importance. This is a different sonic concept from, for example, playing an accompaniment softly while playing a melody loudly, which produces a subordinate/dominating relationship between the parts.
Thanks for your question covering much of the subject of color in piano music.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
Is it worth paying the extra money to get a baby grand or is it better to stick with a high quality upright? I have heard people say that often the uprights have better sound than baby grands. What say you?
— Budgeter
Dear Budgeter:
Well, a good piano sounds better than a bad piano, so some uprights sound better than some grands. But generally speaking, a grand is inherently better because its size provides greater resonating qualities. The best uprights I’ve played have all been Yamahas. But if you have room in your house for a grand, go with that.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
My piano teacher doesn’t like the chair (adjustible and with rollers) I use and wants me to get something else. The best, it seems to me, would be one of those adjustable piano benches (black, tufted and with knobs on either side for adjustment). Do you have any idea how much they cost and where I could get one? One store quoted me $650, which is quite a bit more than I was counting on.
— Student
Dear Student:
I don’t advocate those “artist’s benches”, as they are called. They cost a bundle. After about a year of use, they develop squeaks and start rocking from side to side when you sit on them. The design of the knobs on the side to raise or lower the bench by 1/100th of an inch per complete rotation is ridiculous — you could get tendonitis before you even start to play your instrument just by adjusting the bench.
Look for something else. There are many designs available.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
The sound of a note lingers long after I release the key. Any idea what causes this and what to do about it?
— Lingerer
Dear Lingerer:
The damper (felt-lined object that sits on the strings and that raises when you push a key down or use the pedal) is stuck and is not returning down properly to stop the strings from vibrating. A professional piano tuner/technician can fix this. You shouldn’t try because you might bend the wire that operates it.
Meanwhile, try jiggling the pedal up and down if the sound won’t stop. That might shake the damper loose so that it falls back down to the strings. Or if you’re playing a grand, you can reach inside and knock the damper back down (totally inconvenient while playing).
The highest strings on the piano don’t have dampers because the sound of the shorter strings doesn’t last as long. There’s no built-in way to stop those notes from sounding as long as they do.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I will be moving across the country and want to know how to move my piano most safely. The van I have arranged to move my furniture is not climate controlled but the move will only take four or five days. I’m sure this will be a good quality moving company. What should I worry about? Thanks for any advice you can give.
— Mover
Dear Mover:
I had a piano moved from California to Baltimore. I used Schafer Piano Company — they specialize in coast-to-coast piano moving. They list an 800 phone number.
I was concerned that they would be moving the piano during the WINTER in a truck that was not climate-controlled. But it arrived in tune and in perfect shape.
A piano technician that I asked about this told me that the life span of a piano is many years, and that a brief period of a few days under not perfect conditions was similar to someone smoking cigarettes for a few days versus being a life-long chain smoker. It might have uncomfortable short term effects, but would be negligible overall.
But this person should talk to other piano tuners about the possible bad effects of moving a piano across the country in a hot truck. More than one opinion is better to have.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
Although I can play well and accurately when I’m alone, I recently performed for a gathering of people and found that I couldn’t concentrate well under those circumstances. Do you have any helpful hints on improving concentration during a performance?
— Concentrator
Dear Concentrator:
The first prerequisite for good concentration is to have a strong mind. The way to have a strong mind is to be well-rested. This means getting a good night’s sleep. If you want to take it a step further, then the practice of meditation is a supplemental form of rest that will enhance the quality of your concentration.
The next step is to make listening your priority. Not listening to your thoughts about being nervous or about being fearful of criticism, but instead listening to the sounds that you are making. In the practice room, practice listening by playing a single note and listening to it fade away into silence. Keep listening to that long tone during its entire lifespan. Carry that quality of attention onstage with you.
Remember that being onstage inherently and automatically sets up a condition of heightened energy, emotion, and excitement. That means that if you believe you are experiencing the same amount of excitement onstage that you felt in the practice room, you are in fact probably projecting even more excitement than you realize. This stronger excitement works against being in control of what you are doing. A decrease in control means more mistakes, which means more self-reproach, which means less concentration.
In this case, the antidote is to slightly underplay your emotions onstage, and it will turn out that less is enough. Concentration will become easier. According to this approach, emoting is not your job. Instead, your job is representing the music, undertaking the simple actions involved in getting from one part of the piece to the next. Set up the conditions so that the AUDIENCE feels the emotions. Let yourself go in the practice room instead.
Your attitude also affects your concentration. The main reason that you are distracted when performing is that you are receiving the attention of other people that is coming in your direction. Instead, send your attention in their direction. Orient the purpose of your being there toward enlivening a wonderful experience for those people. It’s about them, not about you.
And nobody came there to criticize you. Since you have been an audience member yourself, you know that people attend an event with positive inclinations. They want to take away the best of it and to overlook deficiencies. The fact that they showed up to hear you indicates that you have the benefit of the doubt. Even if you don’t feel you played your best, you certainly provided a good experience for some listeners. In that case, mission accomplished.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I want to play with freedom, but how can I balance that with my responsibility to the composer and the music?
— Balancer
Dear Balancer:
There is a line down which we musicians walk. On one side of the line is feeling right (emotionally motivated; subjective), and on the other is being right (structurally motivated; objective). Ideally, we want things both to feel right and to be right. It’s an impoverished performance that is limited to only one side of the line. Every audience member knows that.
Your inborn musical instincts give your playing its energy and direction. Your training gives your playing the foundation to make informed choices. You will know that you have combined the two when you can do something that feels completely instinctual but for which you can find a musical justification afterwards.
Until then, err on the side of structural motivation. Your instincts will never disappear, but your training can always be developed further.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
How do you feel about changing the notes of a piano piece that was written in the time period when the keyboard had fewer than 88 keys, i.e. adding notes that didn’t exist on the smaller keyboards when the composers wrote their pieces, using the octave above or below, or rewriting a passage that is a repeat in a different key of corresponding material?
— Arranger
Dear Arranger:
I have a divided perspective on this issue. My training tells me to give one answer, but my personal outlook allows a different answer.
I studied at the Curtis Institute of Music during the time when Rudolf Serkin, one of the 20th century’s greatest pianists, was its director. Serkin was one of the pioneers in music scholarship, particularly research into a composer’s intentions as reflected in that composer’s handwritten manuscript.
Before the 1920s, the mission of a music editor was to immortalize his own interpretation of a piece of music by adding indications for dynamics, articulation, pedaling, fingering, hand distribution, and tempo, even including changing, adding to, or subtracting notes. This could be helpful for student musicians who needed ideas and direction, but it presented the problem of not knowing what, for example, Beethoven wrote versus what Hans von Bulow added to it. And who was Hans von Bulow when compared to Beethoven, after all? At any rate, the innocent performer might represent the editor instead of the composer.
After the 1920s (approximately), the revised mission of an editor was to deliver exactly what the composer put on paper with no interference. Now, if performers altered the text, they were at least doing it with full knowledge. And the performer could also choose to adhere to what was given with confidence that it would represent the composer.
These editions that were faithful to the composer were called “urtext” editions. At Curtis Institute, we were trained to use only urtext editions and to regard with disdain any other types of editions.
Furthermore, Mr. Serkin would never allow any changing of the text, not even altering hand distribution to facilitate a difficult passage. “Beethoven was a pianist,” he would say, “and he knew what he was asking for. It would change the actual sound of this arpeggio if it were played with two hands instead of one.” On the question of adding the obvious missing notes that, if only our current 88-note keyboard had been available to him, the composer would have written, Mr. Serkin was adamant. We would play only the notes as written. That’s what the composer played. End of story.
Furthermore, Serkin said to me that the Godowsky transcriptions of the Chopin etudes were “monstrosities.” Personally, I find them fascinating, inventive, brilliant, and amazing. (Incidentally, I also have Godowsky connections in my own training, since Godowsky taught Paul Van Katwyk who taught my teacher Jane Allen, and Godowsky taught David Saperton who taught my teacher Eleanor Sokoloff.)
My personal outlook is that the only rule in music is to do what sounds good. I have come some distance from my strict training, partly because of my functioning as a composer and improviser — expressions of musicality that were sidelined by my training in favor of interpreting music only. I am always open and willing to consider options. There are many cases where it is obvious that a composer would have continued a pattern into a low or high register that didn’t exist on his keyboard, if it had existed. I play the low G# in pieces by Ravel — Jeux d’Eau, Scarbo — when I play the Bosendorfer piano; he writes a low A, but it is paired with the G# above that as if it were an octave. The G# octave certainly sounds better. I have reinforced low bass notes with octaves in the Chopin G Minor Ballade on occasion, inspired perhaps by Vladimir Horowitz. But I don’t change Beethoven, perhaps as an homage to Mr. Serkin.
Serkin told me an interesting story when I studied the Beethoven Sonata Opus 109 with him. He said that in the first variation in the last movement, Busoni had written a version where he doubled as an octave the single left-hand bass note on each first beat. He said that he liked the sound, but that he couldn’t allow himself to play it. So he used his thumb on the single bass note, stretching his fifth finger over the note an octave below — but without playing that lower note! This way he could have it both ways and be satisfied.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I would like to hear your advice about a concert I gave recently. I was striving to not only play well, but to enjoy playing, and was taken off guard by not being able to enjoy playing. I couldn’t step out of my fear. Fear of playing the wrong notes, and fear of the difficult last piece on the program. I couldn’t center myself. So I didn’t enjoy the concert even though I had tons of appreciative people there.
— Performer
Dear Performer:
You have to give up the idea that you are performing for the sake of your own experience. You’re not. You are there to bring to your listeners what you pray will be the awakening of a divine experience.
Every person present, including yourself, will react differently to the performance. Your own crappy feeling may have no relation whatever to someone else’s perception and experience. Trusting in that, you can play as you play. Someone might come up and tell you that you have saved their life that day. It happened to me once.
Fear comes from sensing isolation. Isolation in this case comes from feeling like attention is coming in your direction from everyone. Instead, as above, your attention can be going in their direction. Some days we do get to enjoy playing. But the consensus so far is that it is not possible to predict when that will happen.
You also have to give up the idea that you are in control of what is happening. You’re not. Walking onstage is surrendering the self. Even the wrong notes are supposed to happen that way.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I get very nervous performing and I have been considering taking beta-blockers to go onstage and perform. What is your opinion of this?
— Prescriber
Dear Prescriber:
I disfavor using drugs to remedy stage fright, especially if other means are available. I’d like to suggest a couple of things for you to try.
You may notice that your hands shake when you get nervous (especially obvious to a pianist who is playing at the time). This is the body’s natural way of discharging the nervousness. It doesn’t mean that you are nervous, it means that you are becoming less nervous; it actually is a means to REDUCE your tension, so it’s a good sign. Therefore, take control of the process: purposely shake your hands back and forth. You could even make your whole body shiver in order to diminish your nervousness.
Part of having an experience is your reaction to it, which becomes a secondary experience. First you feel afraid, and then you feel like you don’t want to be afraid but you are, which tells you that you can’t help yourself from feeling afraid, which tells you that you are out of control. Break this loop by taking control of the fear: be afraid on purpose. In the privacy of your dressing room, pretend to be even more afraid than you really are. Shake your hands, hyperventilate, widen your eyes, and make sounds. Now you are the one who is driving your fear and it won’t be driving you. When you settle back to normal, you will most likely be much less anxious.
How did I overcome stage fright? By walking onstage pretending that I was at home in the greatest place in the world. After awhile, I ended up believing it.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I have learned my piano piece and I play all of it correctly, the way the composer asked for it to be played. What more is there for me to do? I feel like something is missing.
— Learner
Dear Learner:
There is an aspect of playing music that I call "the intangibles". These are the things that happen in your inner world that affect how people in the outer world perceive the music you play. These include things like freedom, attention, confidence, attitude, taking authority, feeling comfortable, and so on.
The standout among these is freedom. Freedom means that as you play music, you do whatever you want to do, whenever you want to do it. It means that you drive the music, not the other way around, and that you only play the notes when you feel like it's the right time to play them.
Freedom is what an audience wants to hear. True, hearing someone like Vladimir Horowitz play with breathtaking brilliance is exciting. But, in one sense, what is exciting is not the brilliance; it is hearing someone do whatever they want to do, whenever they want to do it. Someone who has captured this quality is equally compelling when playing slow, quiet music.
Freedom doesn't mean that you don't play the notes as they are written, or that you don't play in strict time or with precise rhythm. It's just that when you do, you are freely choosing to do so, as opposed to following the orders given to you by the page or by your metronome. The choice to conform is a free choice.
As long as you feel obligated by the page or by your metronome, and as long as you feel like you are trying to keep up with something that is running ahead of you as you play, you aren't feeling right. And you aren't free.
However, not only should things feel right but they should also be right. Feeling right is inner and subjective; it is about you. Being right is outer and objective; it is about what is on the page. Having one without the other-it feels right but it isn't right, it is right but it doesn't feel right-creates an unsatisfying experience.
At an early phase of study, the musician's job is to be right: to identify what is on the page and to render it accurately. That is what you have done with your piano piece, and congratulations on that. The next step for you is to include the aspect of feeling right.
How can you take a step in the direction of feeling right? Start by listening to what you are playing. When you are counting beats and planning your next move, you are not listening.
How can you start to listen well? One method is to play a single note and listen to it until it fades away. That is the kind of listening that you should do all the time, no matter what you are playing. Sounds have a life of their own. Listen to how they evolve.
How can you practice the experience of freedom? One method is to elasticize a piece that you have learned. Play it all out of rhythm, exaggerating and lingering at your every whim. This will show you the extreme possibilities for feeling right without being right.
After you have experienced that side of freedom, re-introduce its other side, the side of being right. Play correctly. But retain your sense of freedom as you do.
Rudolf Serkin once said to me, "We are not metronomes."
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I have heard music teachers say, “Try to play this phrase with a different character.” How can a musician control the character of the phrase? What would be the variables one can use to control/paint/portray the character? Can the character change in each phrase, or change in the phrase itself? How does the interpretation change if the character changes? Do you breathe differently in each different character of phrases?
— Simeon
Dear Simeon:
Sometimes I describe music as the sound of feelings.
So we have two things: sound and feeling. Sound is the outer, objective aspect and feeling is the inner, subjective aspect.
“Character” means the quality of a feeling. For example, a feeling of happiness can have different qualities. It could be a profound, relaxed, serene quality of happiness; or an energetic, exuberant, bright quality of happiness. There are many, many shades of happiness, each having its own specific character and its own adjectives. See how many you can think of.
Character in music is expressed in sound by means of timbre (sound quality), dynamics (loudness), balance (relative simultaneous loudnesses), articulation (amount of connection between successive notes), tempo (speed), beat division (number of counts per measure), and the amount of rubato (rhythmic flexibility).
Let’s follow an example to see how character is put into action. The piece of music is the Prelude in C Major from Book One of the Well-Tempered Clavier by Bach.
Let’s give it a profound, relaxed, serene character.
Serene timbre would be one that is rounded and light.
Serene dynamics would have no sudden contrasts, no big contrasts, and no strongly accented notes, and the level would be generally quiet.
Serene balance would bring out more of the bass notes and less of the treble notes.
Serene articulation would be legato.
Serene tempo would be a slower tempo.
Serene beat division would have fewer beats per measure. In this example, there are sixteen notes in each measure, therefore you could feel sixteen, or eight, or four, or two beats, or one beat per measure. Let’s select two beats per measure because that is less agitated than the higher numbers.
Serene rhythm would feel flexible but not with a distracting amount of rubato.
Now play this Prelude with a light timbre, with generally quiet dynamics that change only gradually, with balance that favors the lower notes, with legato, with a slower tempo, feeling two beats per measure, and with an even but flexible rhythm. You are playing it with a serene character.
Now let’s give the same piece a different character, which is a quality of happiness that is energetic, exuberant, and bright.
Bright timbre would be one that is sharper and richer.
Bright dynamics could have obvious contrasts and the level would be generally loud.
Bright balance would bring out more of the treble notes and less of the bass notes.
Bright articulation would be less legato.
Bright tempo would be a faster tempo.
Bright beat division would have more beats per measure. Let’s select eight beats per measure because that is more active.
Bright rhythm would be very even and tight.
Now play this Prelude with a rich timbre, with generally loud dynamics but including some obvious contrasts, with balance that favors the higher notes, with an articulation that is less legato, with a faster tempo, feeling eight beats per measure, and with tight rhythm. You are playing it with a bright character.
Musicians talk about character, but actors also talk about character. To explore a more advanced level of focusing and defining the quality of feeling in a piece of music, think of it the way an actor would.
Here are some examples of questions an actor might ask about character: Who is feeling the happiness? How old is that person–is it a child, elderly person, or someone in between? What country and time period in history does this person live in? What kind of circumstance is causing the happiness–winning the lottery, getting a good grade in school, eating chocolate, something else? Is the happiness happening right now, or is a sad person remembering a happiness from the past? Is the happy person telling the world about this happiness, or telling an intimate friend, or experiencing it alone? See if you can imagine the quality of happiness that matches each different situation. Invent your own additional situations.
To address the other parts of your question, let me say that character changes when the variables change. Therefore, character can be sustained for any length of a musical statement: for part of a phrase, for an entire phrase, or even for an entire piece.
Also, the character that a musician chooses to assign to a piece of music is their interpretation of that piece. Therefore, changing the character is the same as changing the interpretation.
Finally, your breathing can change according to the character of a piece of music. And that could be just one physical manifestation of character. You might also change the way you position your body or change the expression on your face. From the point of view of piano technique, you will change the movements of your arms and hands, approaching the keys with differing amounts of speed, of heaviness in the arms, of height of the wrists, of flexibility in the wrists, and of curve in the fingers. Each way of doing things results in a different kind of sound. Each different kind of sound expresses a different kind of character.
To play a phrase with a different character means first to have a different quality of feeling and, as a result, to make a different kind of sound.
— J.C.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
What is your teaching philosophy?
— Colleague
Dear Colleague:
I teach the development of human potential through music. I do this by expanding students’ awareness of their actions; by giving them more and more options to choose from; and by providing them with the means, and therefore the freedom, to match inner intentions with outer results.
The antithesis of my ideal is for students simply to follow instructions and to play a piece of music as if performing a trick. The objective is to make music consciously and responsively. I will tell students that there is nothing wrong with the way that they play a piece, unless they only know one way to play it.
Some people teach the subject and others teach the student; I am among the latter. There are standard skills that everybody needs in order to play the piano; but beyond that, my concern is the individual musicality of the students, their personal goals and desires, and their musical instincts and preferences. What interests me most about my students are the things that I never taught them.
And yet, a teacher has to know something more about a student than the student knows. A capable teacher sees a student’s potential, predicts what the student’s future musical self can be, and prescribes the next steps to take in order to become that.
I don’t repeat the same lesson to different students. It’s important to adapt to a student’s predominant mode of learning and processing information, and it’s important to meet them at their level of comprehension. I think that being a teacher means that you can teach anybody. You just have to figure out how people learn.
Ultimately, the goal of lessons is to eliminate the need for a teacher. I want students to develop critical thinking and to generate their own motivation for their performance based on self-reflection and informed understanding. They should speak the truth through their instrument about their own purposes and feelings. I am there to clarify, guide, and set an example.
— J.C.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I am taking piano students who are beginners. What is a good way to get them started playing the piano?
— Initiator
Dear Initiator:
The first thing someone does in order to play the piano is to sit down. I start by telling beginners how to sit at the piano. They must locate in three dimensions in relation to the keyboard: right/left, high/low, and near/far. Therefore, I ask them to be centered at E and F (not "middle C" which, as I keep trying to tell everyone, is not the middle of the piano keyboard); high enough so that elbows are level with keys; and close enough so that upper arms are neither outstretched nor vertical. This is done with good back posture. Also, the elbows are slightly away from the body (which raises them) so that the knuckles are level.
Then I tell them how the fingers are numbered. Afterwards, I give them various series of numbers to play in each hand alone, then both hands at once, then right hand on one series and left hand on another. Example:
Number 1: 1 2 3 4 5 4 3 2 1
Number 2: 5 4 3 2 1 2 3 4 5
Play Number 1 with the right hand, and then play Number 2 with the right hand. Play Number 1 with the left hand, and then play Number 2 with the left hand. Play Number 1 with the right hand and left hand simultaneously, and then play Number 2 with the right hand and left hand simultaneously (this means using the same fingers at the same time). Play Number 1 with the right hand while playing Number 2 with the left hand (this means playing the same notes at the same time if, for example, the five notes in both hands are C D E F G).
Then I give them more series of numbers using various pairs of fingers in sequence (1 3 2 4 3 5, 5 3 4 2 3 1 or 1 4 2 5, 5 2 4 1) or 3-finger combinations (1 2 3 2 1, 2 3 4 3 2, 3 4 5 4 3, 2 3 4 3 2, 1) and finally the "trill exercise" (1 2 1 2 1 2 1 2, 3 2 3 2 3 2 3 2, 3 4 3 4 3 4 3 4, 5 4 5 4 5 4 5 4, 3 4 3 4 3 4 3 4, 3 2 3 2 3 2 3 2, 1).
Then we identify major pentascales (or pentachords; I let them choose which word they like best) and play exercises numbers 1 and 2 above plus the trill exercise on the 12 major pentascales. The routine is (version for the right hand):
1 2 3 4 5 4 3 2 1, then play the major triad, then the trill exercise.
After they have done some of this, somewhere along the line I introduce reading music and have them write out the exercises that they are playing.
That’ll hold ’em for a couple of weeks while you figure out what to do next.
— J.C.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
Many of my students are technically way below me. When I am teaching, the thing I am constantly struck in the face with is: how do you bring it down to the level of the person you are working with?
— Experienced One
Dear Experienced One:
I customize my teaching to each person that I’m working with. The questions I want to answer are: 1. where is this person now, 2. what do they need most, and 3. how can they get from where they are to the next higher step? Then it’s up to my imagination to answer the third question. That’s how I bring things to their level--questions 1 and 2. And the third question is designed to bring them to a higher level. I don’t want for them to stay at their level in any case (and neither do you, of course).
Sometimes I find myself answering that third question 10 times in a row if the first 9 things we try don’t seem to catch on with the student. In other words, I keep inventing solutions.
There has to be a way for the student to feel satisfied with results at their own technical level. For example, if the student feels uncomfortable, I ask him/her to practice comfort by playing only when it feels like the right time to play instead of feeling obligated to produce. And ask him/her to play more slowly in order to have more time to think. People may not like playing slowly, but they do like having time to think, so it’s important to give the reason.
I also try to find techniques that can be done at different levels of ability. "Do this thing, but do it at your own level" is what is expected. For example, students can practice using different rhythms (see “Methods for Practicing” under “Articles” on this website), but they can do this on a one-octave scale, a Hanon exercise, or a Liszt etude. It works for all of them.
— J.C.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I have a student that is interested in learning Bach Preludes and Fugues, as well as inventions. Do you have any words of wisdom about them?
— Professor
Dear Professor:
Here are some of my observations regarding the 48 Preludes and Fugues found in Book I and Book II of Johann Sebastian Bach’s “The Well-Tempered Clavier”, in no particular order:
It can be edifying to study the Prelude and Fugue in a key in Book I and the Prelude and Fugue in the same key in Book II. Sometimes the comparisons show that the matching keys have matching characteristics, moods, and even (in the Bb Minor preludes, for example) matching melodies.
The same is true for the two-part inventions and the three-part "inventions" (called "sinfonias"). The key scheme matches. Compare those in the same key.
It is interesting that there is often a seeming total mismatch of Prelude to Fugue in terms of mood or length. It is apparently a true fact that Bach sometimes plugged in a pre-existing piece just to fill the 48 spaces and also sometimes transposed that piece into the needed key. So there is not always any real musical connection between a Prelude and Fugue.
Some Preludes are easy, followed by a difficult Fugue, and vice versa. It can be useful to find Preludes and Fugues that are matched in difficulty so that one or the other piece is not an inordinate challenge to the student.
Some keys with high numbers of accidentals might be more of a challenge for a student to read, but from just the physical standpoint of playing them some of the best to start with in Book I are D minor, E minor (probably the easiest in Book I), F# major, G minor, and Bb minor; and in Book II are C minor, Eb major (probably the easiest on this list), E major, and A major.
Book II is musically more mature and sublime than Book I, but teachers almost always stick to Book I, perhaps because that is what they were taught, or else because those pieces are more "popular" (automatic result of being assigned more often), or else because the teachers haven’t explored all 48, or else for some other reason I can’t fathom.
Tricky fingerings, you say? I have a theory that Bach composed this music nowhere in the neighborhood of a keyboard. It’s easier to find serviceable fingerings for the works of Liszt. But my theory goes on to assert that Bach didn’t compose for the instrument, he composed for the composition. Which perhaps explains why you can play anything he wrote on any instrument and it still sounds good.
— J.C.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
Do you know of any fun, interesting, and challenging Mendelssohn pieces? A new student of mine has only played the Reverie in F, and I thought there should be more of interest in his works than that.
— Dreamer
Dear Dreamer:
I have played through all of Mendelssohn’s piano solo works (not bragging, just claiming authority when I offer opinions), so I can tell you that the best music among them is the Songs Without Words and the Variations Sérieuses. The latter is not a "student" piece. Beautiful, important, characteristic of the composer, and frequently performed also is the Rondo Capriccioso in E Major, op. 14.
By the way, Mendelssohn did not give titles to any of the Songs Without Words except the Spinning Song, the Spring Song, the Venetian Boat (Gondola) Songs, and the Duet. If you find any other pleasing and sentimental titles given to these pieces, please know that they were pasted there by someone else.
The easiest ones are op. 19 #4, op. 30 #3, op. 67 #5, and op. 102 #6.
The most popular ones are op. 19 #6, op. 30 #6, op. 38 #2, op. 62 #1, op. 62 #6 (world famous), and op. 67 #4 (most famous among pianists).
My favorites are op. 19 #5, op. 38 #6, op. 53 #2, op. 67 #1, op. 85 #4, and op 102 #3.
Mendelssohn wrote "Six Pieces For Children, opus 76" that are nice; some are actually relatively easy to play.
His Scherzo, opus 16 number 2, shows up sometimes in student anthologies. It also is heard in the movie soundtrack to "The Wizard of Oz" in the latter half when people are running around in great consternation.
— J.C.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
My piano teacher told me never to bang the piano. How can I avoid doing that?
— Intimidated
Dear Intimidated:
This is one of several bits of inherited “wisdom” that, to my annoyance, continue to circulate in the piano teaching community after making an appearance at least a century ago. I will list the main ones here, starting with your issue.
I imagine that “don’t bang the piano” might have meant “don’t play loudly” to certain prudish persons who wished to discourage excesses of expression from their piano students. But you can’t realize the great piano literature with a limited dynamic range.
The piano was built for sound, and is in fact named after its property of playing both softly and loudly (since it was originally called a “pianoforte” or “fortepiano”). I am hoping that you will, in fact, play very loudly when the composer asks for it.
Perhaps it was feared by some teachers that “banging” could damage the piano as well. That is simply not a concern, unless you attacked it using some kind of heavy tool instead of your hands. The piano is built to take a tremendous amount of force from its players.
To “bang” the piano could only mean one thing to a reasonable musician: don’t make harsh sounds on the instrument. If you remain relaxed, especially in your wrists, it will be impossible to make a harsh sound no matter how loudly you play. You can also minimize harsh sounds by keeping the wrist low and curving your fingers. A high, unbending wrist combined with straight fingers will bring you a harsh sound quite easily. Try it. Some piece that you play might call for just such a sound.
Also: Every day, thousands of piano teachers tell millions of students that Middle C is the middle of the piano keyboard. It isn’t. It is not the middle of any instrument. Instead, it is the middle of the grand staff. It is the note on the single ledger line between the treble staff and the bass staff. If you start at both ends of the piano keyboard and play chromatic scales towards the middle, you will end up on E and F above Middle C. This is the center of the keyboard. If you want to utilize every possible advantage in your piano playing, sit with this center in front of you. It maximizes your reach in either direction on the keyboard, unless your arms are noticeably different lengths.
Also: It seems to be an accepted fact that you should change fingers on repeated notes. This is not always desirable. If you have repeated notes that must be played fast, then it is almost always the best thing to do. And if you have repeated notes that are slow and should each sound different, as if they were different syllables and vowels sung by a singer, then you should change fingers on each note. But if you have repeated notes that are of a slow to moderate tempo, and if you want identical sounds on each note, then you should make identical movements with your hands to create those sounds. Use the same finger over and over again.
Also: I am sometimes approached by concerned students who try to match the tempo marking in a piece of music to the suggested range for that tempo as it appears on their metronome. But there is no absolute and objective number of beats per minute that equals "allegro", "andante", or anything else, and it is meaningless to follow these well-intentioned general indications. Only the actual experience of playing a specific piece of music can give you the range of its tempo, which will lie somewhere between the slowest speed and the fastest speed at which it can be played without sounding ludicrous. In addition to this, there is the fact that different composers used the same words differently. "Lento" for Chopin is probably faster than anybody else’s, while Beethoven’s "adagio" might be slower than anybody else’s. Only the study of many works of music, both by different composers and also by the same composer, can develop your sense of appropriate choices for tempo. Use the metronome for what it does best--to help practice maintaining a uniform tempo. But as to what the tempo is, that is your choice, not the metronome’s.
My main point is that you should do everything that you do as a conscious choice. Don’t just do something, or not do something, because somebody taught you that. You should know the results of each course of action you take and you should know the reasons why you take it.
— J.C.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I’m looking for a piano teacher for my teen-age son. How do I find someone?
— Shopper
Dear Shopper:
That depends on what the goal of the student is. One goal might be to acquire keyboard skills at a level that would allow for composing, understanding music theory, supplementing the study of another instrument, or basic accompanying duties. In that case, a knowledge of chords and scales, as well as rudimentary maneuvering around the keyboard, is what is called for. Another might be to develop the abilities associated with playing compositions written specifically for the piano. In that case, control of tone and dynamics, and the array of touches to produce it — including all the variations of speed, direction, and amount of weight of the fingers, hands, and arms — is what is called for. In the first case, you can learn on an electronic instrument. In the second case, a real piano is absolutely necessary.
In any case, there are certain things that all keyboardists/pianists must be able to do. Unlike many other instruments, on the piano you may sound more than one note at a time. Therefore, the basic skill required is to do more than one thing at a time. That means simultaneous different loudnesses, speeds, and articulations between the two hands or even in one hand at a time. This is inescapable, and in fact it is the glory of keyboard playing.
Then there is the question of what kind of music the student intends to play. If the goal is to be an improviser, composer, or arranger, then you will need a teacher who can handle those topics. If the goal is to play music from a printed page, in other words, to be an interpreter, then you will need a teacher who can handle that. Most teaching is done in this latter category, since most teachers teach classical music and classical music is written, not improvised.
Then there is the question of what style of music the student wants to play. Most classical music teachers don’t teach much jazz or pop music. They could, however, if they would teach written transcriptions or arrangements of jazz or pop music. The student comes to no harm by it. When a student plays from a printed page, they still must be able to render the score accurately. Whether it’s Beethoven or John Williams, the same problems of reading pitches and rhythms, and adhering to indications of tempo, dynamics, and pedaling, must be solved. The style of music doesn’t change those elements of notation.
If the goal is to become expert in jazz improvisation, it will be best to find a teacher who is a professional in that field. It is unusual to find one teacher who can cover both classical music and jazz, in which case perhaps two teachers, one for classical and one for jazz, might be the best solution.
There are methods of teaching that do not heavily rely on the printed page. In this case, the teacher demonstrates the music by playing it for the student, and the student imitates the teacher. If I reach over to the keyboard and play a note with my index finger, then ask you to do the same, it would take a couple of seconds for us to complete that transaction. If I tell you that there are seven letters of the alphabet that correspond to musical tones, and that they are written on these five lines, and that I indicate one of those seven letters by fixing it to one of the lines, and that from there you can deduce which lines and spaces belong to the other six letters, and that your fingers are numbered from one to five starting with the thumb as number one, and then if I ask you to put finger number two on the note that is written on the page, and then if you decipher which note it is and play it with your index finger, it would take much longer than a couple of seconds. The former method is an example of the Suzuki method, named for an influential Japanese teacher, and the latter method is an example of the “traditional” European method. I personally favor a mix of the two methods with my young students.
Finally, if the student knows exactly what kind of music they want to play, for example the works of a certain composer or stylistic period, then you might want to find a teacher who will help with that project. If the student doesn’t know what kind of music they like, then you might want to find a teacher who will provide a survey of the keyboard literature. My experience has been that adult students usually fall into the first category and younger students usually fall into the second. Your teen-age son should probably spend time exploring many musical options in order to draw informed conclusions about his direction.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I have studied with different teachers, and they give me conflicting information. What am I supposed to do?
— Conflicted
Dear Conflicted:
One teacher taught you one way, another taught you a different way. So how should you play the music, this way or that way? The answer is that you should be able to do anything.
Furthermore, you need to know why you are doing things in a particular way. If you knew that, you might not be asking this question.
You are doing things in a particular way in order to produce a specific result. Technically speaking, the way of positioning your hand, the direction from which it approaches the keyboard, the amount of curvature or straightness in the fingers, the speed at which you put the keys down, the sensation of heaviness or lightness in the arm, the amount of flexibility in the wrist, and each of these things combined in all of their varying degrees results in a different sound and a corresponding musical effect. Musically speaking, your choices regarding tempo, dynamics, articulation, pedaling, rubato, tone quality, and even fingering will project different shades of expression. When playing a piece of music, the question always is: what result do I desire at any particular time?
One reason that some teachers promote just one way of doing things is that they desire one specific result. But another possible reason is that they may never have actually made their own aware choices about what they are doing. I’m sorry to say that some teachers just teach what they were taught by their teachers, so their advocacy of how to do things is based only on a sense of authority.
Ideally, learning music is not a matter of following orders. The job of a teacher is to acquaint a student with options. The job of a student is to accomplish the ability to implement those options. Then the student can choose with awareness from a wide range of options in order to produce the results that they desire.
I would say that the only bad thing is the lack of awareness. As a teacher, I constantly want to know whether my students are doing things on purpose. Perhaps a student plays forte where the score is marked piano. Was that a decision based on personal musicality or scholarly research? If so, I can support the decision even if I don’t agree with it. Or did the student not notice the marking or not realize that they were playing loudly? If so, then my job is to awaken the student to what they are doing.
This is why I have no disagreement with any of your previous teachers, except when they didn’t explain why you are supposed to do things their way. If you are doing things without knowing why, then you are just performing a trick that you have learned. You will lack the autonomy to generalize your choices and to apply them in different situations. In that case, your human potential remains undeveloped. Developing that potential is the essential goal of piano playing.
By the way, I can say without having heard you play that there is nothing wrong with your piano playing. You already have the ability to do certain things, and that is good. All you need to do is to add more abilities.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I know I should play exercises like Czerny. Can you help me figure out which ones are the best?
— Exerciser
Dear Exerciser:
It’s important not just to play piano etudes and exercises because they seem to be part of everyone’s piano lessons, but instead to really take inventory of the benefits of each one and use them purposefully.
Hanon exercises are good as finger calisthenics and they contribute to even playing in terms of rhythm and tempo, to the development of speed, and to fingering facility. They also help with playing the two hands simultaneously.
Philipp and Pischna exercises are good for strength and independence of the fingers because they involve holding some notes while playing others at the same time.
Czerny is musically very unrewarding. I generally avoid assigning his exercises. I think that the exercises by J. B. Cramer are far superior as actual pieces of music, and as a result students enjoy playing them more and get more out of them. I recommend them over Czerny’s works.
But Czerny is okay if it contributes to general fluency at the keyboard. He tended to write the same exercise several times, so after you have done one exercise, try to find one that has a distinctly different technical challenge.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I am trying to come up with a statement of what the goals are for my piano lessons. What would you say the goals should be?
— Goalie
Dear Goalie:
The goals of music lessons are different for the student and for the teacher.
For the student, the goal of music lessons is to eliminate the need for a teacher.
For the teacher, the goal of music lessons is to be surpassed by the student.
It is important always to move in the direction of these goals even if the distance covered is small.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
The following article by Jeffrey Chappell appeared in Piano & Keyboard Magazine, July/August 1994 issue.
CAN YOU PLAY a C-major scale in 4/4 time? If so, you are on your way to playing jazz. Go to your keyboard and follow this exercise. Every instruction changes or adds something to what comes before it. It is important that you be secure with each step before going on to the next.
1. Tap your foot— right or left, heel or toe— in even quarter-notes, 4/4 time. Choose a comfortably moderate tempo, somewhere between 80 and 100 on the metronome.
2. With your left hand, play a C-major seventh chord on every beat.

3. With your right hand, play a C-major scale ascending and descending in eighth notes.

4. Change the rhythm in the right hand to alternating quarters and eighths in 12/8 time.

Lightly accent the eighth notes if you can do so easily; otherwise, proceed without doing so.
5. Once in awhile, whenever you feel like it, hold onto a note longer than an eighth or quarter value.

Improvisation technique: "Say as you play." Every time you play a note in the right hand, simultaneously say a syllable such as "da." This will reinforce your inner connection with what you play.
6. Once in awhile, whenever you feel like it, add a rest.

7. Once in awhile, whenever you feel like it, add a grace note.

8. Continue to use the notes of the C-major scale, but in any order.

Improvisation technique: Make yourself play everything twice in a row.

This will create coherence in the music as well as make you listen to and think about what you play.
Five minutes are up. You now have the hang of it. What is needed next is greater harmonic variety.
9. Use seventh chords built on white keys moving stepwise.

Improvisation technique: In the right hand, play only notes that belong to the chord in the left hand.

This is a guaranteed way to sound consonant with the harmonies.
10. Use seventh chords built on white keys, including some inversions.

This facilitates smooth voice leadings while allowing the roots of the chords to move disjunctly.
11. Alternate seventh chords in the key of C major with seventh chords in the key of D major. Use notes of the D major scale with the chords in that key.

Improvisation technique: When improvising over changes of harmony, locate the tones that are common to each succeeding pair of keys. Allowing for enharmonic spellings, any two major scales have at least two common tones. In this case, A, B, D, E, and G are common to both keys. When the harmony changes you should be playing one of those notes to avoid sounding C♯ or F♯ in C major and C or F in D major.

In fact, you can play the entire improvisation just on the common tones.

12. Use a chord progression that includes the keys of C major, D major, G major, and G♭ major. This is based on the first part of Duke Ellington's "Satin Doll." Start by playing the scale that matches each chord progression. The note B/C♭ is common to all four keys.

13. Improvise on the chord progression for "Satin Doll."


14. Instead of constant quarter-notes in the left hand, include rests as well as chords that occur on offbeats.

15. Use voicings that include ninths and thirteenths while omitting the roots of the chords.

The next phase is to become fluent in all keys and to be able to move from one key to another in any order. Then you can improvise over any chord progression. Start by transposing steps 9 and 10 to all major keys.
Investigate different types of chords and the different types of scales that can be matched with them. Practice improvising on the chord progressions of standard jazz tunes. Play written transcriptions of improvisations and, most importantly, listen to jazz. This will occupy you for much longer than five minutes.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
What suggestions do you have for using a fake book? I am a beginner at this.
— Beginner
Dear Beginner:
Here’s the Jeffrey Chappell step-by-step method for approaching a fake book lead sheet:
1. Play the melody with your right hand.
2. Play the melody with your right hand plus the roots of the chords with your left hand.
3. Play the melody with your right hand plus the chords, in root position, with your left hand.
4. Play the melody with your right hand plus the chords with your left hand, using root position as well as inversions to facilitate smooth connections. (Tip: For descending fifth progressions, all the connections will be step-wise, making things easier. And there are bunches of descending fifth progressions in fake book tunes.)
That’s it. Congratulate yourself. You’re playing a tune from a fake book.
If you want to do more, consider the following:
5. Include chord tones in the right hand as well as the left hand. Your left fifth finger will always play the root of the chord, and you will play the interval of either an octave, seventh, or fifth in that hand. Your thumb and second finger in your right hand will fill in other notes of the chord while the remaining fingers will play the melody.
6. Here’s a quick approach to a jazz “voicing” (distribution of chord tones): Left fifth finger takes the root of the chord; right fifth finger takes the melody note; add either the third or seventh of the chord in the left hand; then add the seventh or third (whichever the left hand didn’t take) in the right hand. If the melody note already is the seventh or third of the chord, use the fifth as one of the inner notes.
Enjoy.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I just got asked to play in a jazz band although I don’t have a lot of prior experience. They want me to take solos [improvise melodic material over a chord progression] and to comp [accompany other players as they improvise], and I want to sound really good. What can I do to become a better jazz pianist really quickly?
— Quick Learner
Dear Quick Learner:
I. For improvising a melodic line over a chord, these are the improviser’s three best friends:
II. There are a couple of little things that you can throw in when improvising a solo line that make it more hip.
III. Another slick trick is, in your left hand, to play one of the following 3-note voicings:
IV. Another slick trick is to do a half-step slide, i.e., play a chord a half step above (usually) or below (also happens) the one you are playing or are approaching. Easy to find but sounds complex to the listener!
V. A very jazzy and easy-to-find voicing for comp chords can be generated using this method:
Footnote to item V: A good piano-playing tip is to notice the color combinations of the piano keys for quartal voicings, which can help you locate them more quickly.
Note that in eight cases there are three notes spaced a fourth apart which are all the same color (all white keys or all black keys) on the keyboard. All white: GCF, ADE, BEA, DGC, EAD; all black: AbDbGb, BbEbAb, EbAbDb. You can find these chromatically as GCF, AbDbGb, ADE, BbEbAb, BEA and DGC, EbAbDb, EAD.
Up to 7 (all of the) white notes can be spaced a fourth apart: BEADGCF. Up to 5 (all of the) black notes can be spaced a fourth apart: BbEbAbDbGb.
In fact, this means that you can play the top 4 notes of the examples above for any of the three chord qualities--major, dominant, and minor--and it will work, and especially if the guitarist or somebody else is sounding the third and/or seventh of the chord. You won’t even have to differentiate for the various types of chords. (Example: C major 7, C dominant 7, C minor 7 all can be voiced from the top down as C-G-D-A.)
Enjoy!
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Jeffrey:
I’m confused about how music theory applies to the blues. Can you explain this? Thanks
— Glenn
Dear Glenn:
You should be confused. Blues breaks all the rules.
Starting with grammar: “blues” is singular. Example: “Blues (it) breaks all the rules,” not “Blues (they) break all the rules.”
The form is 12 measures, not the usual 16 or 32.
When a blues is labeled AAB, the second A is harmonically different from first A, so it is not really a repeat. Therefore, the labeling system is being used incorrectly.
Or since many blues repeat the lyrics of the first phrase in the second phrase, it could be said that “AAB” actually labels the lyrics instead of the music, which is also using the labeling system in a way that is inconsistent with all other systems of musical analysis.
All of the chords in the basic progression are dominant seventh chords. None of them resolve to a tonic, the way a dominant seventh should.
The last chord, a dominant seventh, is heard as final, instead of needing to resolve to a tonic. That is a mysterious phenomenon.
The chord progression is labeled with the Roman numerals I, IV, and V, but the chords are not diatonically functional. For example, according to traditional analysis, a “Blues in C” is in three different keys. C7 is labeled as the I chord , but C7 has a Bb in it which is not found in the key of C. It is V in the key of F. F7 is labeled as the IV chord, but it has an Eb in it which is not in the key of C. It is V in the key of Bb. G7 is labeled as the V chord, which, in the key of C, it is. Therefore, for only one measure out of 12, the labeling is accurate.
At the same time, when musicians notate the blues, they put a key signature in the score. It is the key signature for the key of what would be the I chord. Except, as noted above, it isn’t really a I chord because it’s a dominant seventh. So the key signature is actually meaningless.
When labeling with Roman numerals, the assumption is that chords are formed from a 7-note scale. Not only does the blues scale have 6 notes, but the chords are not built from this scale--only the melody might be. Therefore the Roman numeral labeling system is meaningless.
And if you did build chords from the notes of the 6-note blues scale (using every other note, the way it is done with a diatonic 7-note scale), those chords wouldn’t all be tertian (comprised of thirds) as they would be if you used a diatonic 7-note scale.
And the chords don’t follow the jazz rule of “the scale contains the chord”. None of the three dominant seventh chords is completely contained in the blues scale.
And the scale therefore contains “avoid” notes that clash dissonantly with the chords. But you don’t need to avoid them. Though they shouldn’t, the “avoid” notes sound good. That also is a mysterious phenomenon.
And the blues doesn’t follow the rule of “the tonic of the scale is the root of the chord”. It’s one scale for three different chords. Example: “Blues in C” uses only the C blues scale with a C chord, an F chord, and a G chord instead of switching to an F scale with the F chord and a G scale with the G chord.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Here is a list of things that jazz singers do, beginning with some comparisons to the classical approach.
Dear Jeffrey:
Can you offer me any good approaches to take regarding walking bass lines?
— Peter
Dear Peter:
What a walking bass line does is to provide a living metronome for other notes being played in a piece of music.
Creating a walking bass line is like solving a puzzle. Fortunately, a large part of the solution is automatically worked out for you, because on the beat that a chord symbol appears, you should play the root of that chord (which is to say, the same letter of the alphabet as the chord symbol) or, if it’s a slash chord notation, the note on the right side of the slash. The part of the puzzle that you have to work out is to find notes to fill in the beats between the chord symbols.
The simplest solution is just to play repeated notes on the root of the chord for as many beats as the chord lasts until the next chord. This actually works because it fulfills the metronomic function of the bass line. You could start out this way.
But then, the bass line isn’t really walking yet. “Walking” means that it is traveling from one place to another. The question then is how to travel between the roots of successive chords. The answer is to move by steps (scales) or by skips (arpeggios) or a combination of both. What follows will illustrate specifically how to do that.
There are finite possibilities for root movement between pairs of letters of the alphabet. For example, using the note A as the starting point, it could be followed by another A (repeated note, up an octave, or down an octave), or by B (up a second or down a seventh), or by C (up a third or down a sixth), or by D (up a fourth or down a fifth), or by E (up a fifth or down a fourth), or by F (up a sixth or down a third), or by G (up a seventh or down a second). The addition of sharps or flats to these doesn’t fundamentally change the puzzle.
Out of all of these possibilities, the most frequently encountered is a root movement of descending fifths (or ascending fourths, which yields the same alphabet letters). The seven alphabet letters in the order of descending fifths (ascending fourths) starting with A are: A, D, G, C, F, B, E.
Four of these in sequence form a word that is easy to remember — BEAD — and you can create your own mnemonic for the following GCF. Just open a fake book to any random page and you will almost always find some segment of the BEADGCF sequence. I am fond of saying that this accounts for about 85% of jazz tunes.
In 4/4 time, it is common for chords to last two beats or four beats, and sometimes eight beats, and occasionally one beat. Now all you need is a system for walking in two, four, sometimes eight, and occasionally one beat between the pairs A and A, A and B, A and C, A and D, A and E, A and F, and A and G, and all of their transpositions.
The easiest solution is when the chord lasts only one beat. In this case, you just play the root of that chord and then the root of the next chord. There are no beats to fill in between the chords. That takes care of that.
Another very easy solution is when the chord lasts eight beats. In this case, play an ascending or descending scale that starts and ends on the chord root. For example, if you have an Amaj7 chord for eight beats, you would play ascending A, B, C#, D (barline), E, F#, G#, A or descending A, G#, F#, E (barline), D, C#, B, A. The fact that the downbeat after the barline is a letter of the alphabet that doesn’t match the chord symbol is accepted as an exception to the rule.
When the chord lasts two beats, that is fairly easy because you only have to come up with one note between the chord roots. A solution is to approach the next chord root by a step, preferably a half step, either above or below it.
For example, let’s take the frequently encountered descending fifths (ascending fourths) root movement. If the chord progression is A to D in half notes, approaching by a half step above the next chord root would be either A up to Eb and down to D, or A down to Eb and down to D. In either direction, this creates the interval of a tritone (A to Eb). This is a commonly-used solution when the first chord is a dominant seventh, diminished seventh, or half-diminished seventh.
A solution approaching by a half step below the next chord root would be A up to C# and up to D, or A down to C# and up to D. This is a commonly-used solution when the first chord is either a major seventh or dominant seventh. An approach by a whole step either above or below the next chord root works best when the first chord is a minor seventh.
Now all you need is a system for getting from A to A in four beats; from A to B in four beats; from A to C in four beats; and the same for A to D, A to E, A to F, and A to G.
Let’s take an example. In the tune “Autumn Leaves” with a key signature of one sharp, the first seven chords are Amin7, D7, Gmaj7, Cmaj7, F#min(b5), B7, and Emin7. Notice that these are the seven alphabet letters, starting with A, in the order of descending fifths (ascending fourths).
Each chord lasts for four beats. On beat one of each measure, you would play the root of the chord. Now there are three beats remaining in each measure and it’s time to solve the puzzle.
The descending fifths progression in four beats is the most straightforward walking bass solution. Play the root of the chord on beat one and then to go down the scale on beats two, three, and four, arriving another step later on beat one of the next measure. So, Amin7 to D7 would be A, G, F#, E (barline), D.
The customary solution for walking an ascending fourth root movement in four beats is to play the root of the chord on beat one and then to go up a whole step and two half steps, no matter whether the chord is major or minor in its basic quality. So, Amin7 to D7 would be A, B, C, C# (barline), D.
These two patterns will get you through about 85% of jazz because of the ubiquity of the descending fifths (ascending fourths) root movements.
Another easy solution for when the chord lasts four beats is to play only the chord tones as an arpeggio. The chord A (add accidentals according to the chord quality) would be ascending A, C, E, A or descending A, E, C, A; and with the seventh would be ascending A, C, E, G or descending A, G, E, C. Then you proceed to the root of the next chord.
If the root of the next chord is not a step away from the note on the fourth beat, there will be some potentially inelegant skipping to the next root. Again, this is acceptable because the bass line not only maintains its metronomic function but it also travels from one root to the next. However, you can create solutions that are more elegant by combining steps and skips.
Here are some possible solutions for the other root movements in four beats (add accidentals according to the chord quality), but you may invent many others:
A to A (repeated note): A, B, C, B (barline), A
A to A (up an octave): A, B, C, E (barline), A
A to A (down an octave): A, E, C, B (barline), A
A up to B: A, E, C, A (barline), B
A down to B: A, E, D, C (barline), B
A up to C: A, B, C, D (barline), C
A down to C: A, E, A, B (barline), C
A up to E: A, B, C, D (barline), E
A down to E: A, E, C, D (barline), E
A up to F: A, C, D, E (barline), F
A down to F: A, G, F, E (barline), F
A up to G: A, C, E, A (barline), G
A down to G: A, B, C, A (barline), G
There are a couple of other artistic considerations when constructing a walking bass line. One is to go in contrary motion to the direction of the melody when possible. For example, in “Autumn Leaves” with a key signature of one sharp, the D7 measure has the melody notes D, E, and F# ascending on beats 2, 3, and 4. If you use the ascending walking bass solution for ascending fourths in four beats, you have the notes D, E, F, and F# on beats 1, 2, 3, and 4. The E in the bass is dissonant with the D in the melody, and same for the F in the bass with the E in the melody. Simply using the descending fifths solution instead of D, C, B, A will completely avoid this problem. Besides, contrary motion has a more balanced effect overall, even if dissonances don’t exist between the bass line and the melody line.
Another is to animate the bass line occasionally with some swing eighth notes. The easiest implementation of this is to repeat any of the bass notes on any beat of the measure, doing this once per measure. Using “Autumn Leaves” as an example, the Amin7 measure in the ascending pattern could be A-A (swing eighths), B, C, C#; or A, B-B, C, C#; or A, B, C-C, C#; or A, B, C, C#-C#.
Another is to alternate ascending and descending motion in the bass line so that it doesn’t travel too far in one direction.
Another is to keep in mind the approach-the-next-root-by-a-half-step rule even with chords lasting more than two beats.
If you are playing a walking bass line on an instrument other than a double bass or a bass guitar, then it is important to play the line in the actual range of a double bass or bass guitar. Many pianists let the line come too close to the center of the keyboard, for example.
As you develop sophistication in your walking bass lines, you may not choose every time to play the root of the chord on the beat that a chord symbol appears. This will work as long as you clearly define the identity of the chord with your choice of notes. A walking bass line in four beats for the chord A (add accidentals according to the chord quality) could appear as B, A, C, E; or C, D, E, A; or C, E, A, C, to give just three examples.
The last piece of advice is that you should listen to bass players and take inventory of what they are doing. If possible, talk to bass players about how they create their own walking bass lines.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
How do you go about playing an improvisation for a silent film?
— Soundless
Dear Soundless:
I watch the film once while taking notes on the story. I then assign musical motifs to each character and event—for example, the hero, the heroine, the big struggle, and the victory at the end. Sometimes these are my own original ideas, but the film subject might also suggest specific material that already exists. For example, a film set in 1920s Paris would invite the use of music by French composers of that time. I also hold to the purpose of playing music that supports the story without drawing attention to the music itself. I have found that repertoire such as Shostakovitch Preludes or Poulenc Nocturnes is very useful in this regard, because they are unfamiliar enough to escape recognition by the audience while still being fresh and tonal enough to be easily accessible. I conscientiously avoid any familiar clichés that the audience would associate with silent films, such as villain or chase scene music.
For the screening, I have the first page of several pieces of music on the piano in front of me, one for each musical motif, usually photocopied in reduced size to eliminate any page turning. As I watch the film, I refer to these “reminder” notations. Occasionally, I play what is written, but most of the time I just improvise on that material. This means using a lot of sequences, repetition, modulation, and fragmentation of the musical ideas. The action on the screen dictates the tempo and dynamics of the music. It also tells me when a particular important moment needs a precisely coordinated musical commentary to illustrate it.
The real challenge is to keep playing non-stop for the duration of the film, which could be up to two hours. There is rarely any opportunity to rest one’s eyes or hands.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
What can you tell me about the most efficient way to solve 4-part writing exercises?
— Puzzler
Dear Puzzler:
At least 80% of the time, good results (with no rules about parallel movement broken) are generated by moving to the nearest tone in the next chord from each voice in the existing chord, providing that all members (root, 3rd, and 5th) of the chord are present in both chords.
As an example, take C major to F major. Bass is C, tenor is G, alto is C, soprano is E. To get to an F major chord, what is the nearest note in F major to the note C in the bass? The answer is C (assuming F major root position is not required), so the bass just stays on C. What is the nearest note in F major to the note G in the tenor? The answer is either F or A. So delay the decision. What is the nearest note in F major to the note C in the alto? Same answer as bass: stay on C. What is the nearest note in F major to the note E in the soprano? That would be F. Now there is C, C, and F in the bass, alto, and soprano. The chord is not complete and needs an A. So the tenor gets the A. No rules have been broken. If both chords have to be in root position, then bass C goes to F; tenor G goes to A; alto C remains; soprano E goes to F. Again, no rules have been broken.
Nearly all of the Bach chorales themselves seem to contain radical solutions to voice-leading that are brilliant and on-the-edge—things they never taught us in school to do in four-part exercise lessons. If you want to blow your mind with the possibilities, you could look at those.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
When you are writing for four parts, how bad are doubled thirds really? Even though the rule books say you should avoid them, I really don’t hear the weakness of the doubled thirds.
— Tertiophile
Dear Tertiophile:
They’re not so ‘bad’, they are just officially the third choice in order of preference for doubling a chord tone, according to the textbooks. The idea is that you should, if possible, double the root, or if that isn’t possible, double the fifth, and then if that isn’t possible, go ahead and double the third.
Of course, this implies some sort of inferiority (but not incorrectness) on the part of the doubled third. You might say it has more of a mellow effect, so whoever made the rules didn’t want mellow. The first chord of Faure’s Prelude from the ‘Pelleas and Melisande’ Suite is, from bottom to top, G-D-B-B, and it is incredibly gorgeous. And he was no ignoramus when it came to harmonizing.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
Why are there three different kinds of minor scales—natural, harmonic, and melodic? It seems like such a tangled-up mess.
— Tangled
Dear Tangled:
The ultimate rule in music is to do what sounds good. Anything after that is driven by that principle. It also brings individual taste into the equation.
Regarding the three forms of minor, we must ask why they exist.
NATURAL minor is the NATURAL (unaltered, automatically-occurring) result of perpetuating the key signature. That leaves a whole step between its seventh note (in C minor, for example, Bb) and the next higher note which would be tone number one again (in this example, C).
HARMONIC minor exists because of HARMONY. Those mid-millennium Europeans were enjoying so much the tension and pull of the half step from (in C major for example) B natural in chord number 5 (G major) when it was leading to the C root note of chord number 1 (C major) that they wanted the same exquisite experience to happen when going from chord 5 to chord 1 in minor as well. Hence, they raised that seventh note from Bb to B natural in favor of this HARMONIC progression. Ever since then, chord number 5 has proceeded to minor chord number 1 with that raised tone, with only a barely noticeable tiny number of exceptions.
MELODIC minor exists because of MELODY. Then somebody noticed that there was an awkward gap of an augmented second in the harmonic minor scale between its sixth and seventh tones (Ab to B natural in this case). The remedy was to raise also the sixth tone to eliminate this gap. Easier to play, sing, and hear, melodically speaking.
Under these conditions, you have three sets of choices to make regarding notes numbers six and seven in a minor scale. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t there to put a stop to it.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I have read your resume and official biography. Can you provide a slightly more personal version of your musical life in chronological order?
— Reader
Dear Reader:
I am the first professional musician in my family, unless you count my grandmother, who was the organist at my grandfather’s church. Both of my parents were aeronautical engineers, but my mother played Chopin and my father played boogie-woogie. What happened then was that I spent the first 30 years of my life totally focused on one thing — classical music. That was the Chopin side. Afterwards, I added jazz to my pursuits. That was the boogie-woogie side. But I also started reaching in all directions. Improvisation, composition, teaching, journalism, and musical theater have all figured strongly since that time.
My first great teacher was Jane Allen, who took me as a student when I was 13 years old. She told me that I would have to work, and so I did. By the time I was 15, I had the technical ability to play the most advanced pieces in the repertoire. Then my family moved away from St. Louis, so, at Jane Allen’s invitation, I left home at the age of 15 to stay behind in Missouri as her protégé and to study for two more years. I was then accepted to the Curtis Institute of Music in 1970 as the student of Eleanor Sokoloff, with additional lessons from Rudolf Serkin. I loved every minute of my four years there. I finished by winning the Philadelphia Orchestra Concerto Competition and by spending the summer of 1974 at the Marlboro Music Festival.
I then continued my studies at the Peabody Conservatory with Leon Fleisher, finishing a Master’s Degree in 1976. While at Peabody, I came to the attention of Sergiu Comissiona, who was then the conductor of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. During Comissiona’s term, I was invited to perform with the BSO throughout the state of Maryland several times a year, as well as at Carnegie Hall and Wolf Trap Park. On one occasion, I was called to substitute for Claudio Arrau, performing the Brahms Second Concerto on four hours’ notice with no rehearsal and to critical acclaim. During this period, I also was engaged to perform with other major orchestras such as those of Pittsburgh, Houston, Indianapolis, and St. Louis. Many of my concerts were broadcast on national radio. I toured Latin America and appeared at the La Gesse Festival and the Festival d’Ete in France. I also received a Solo Recitalists Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts.
When I diversified my activities and started playing jazz, I eventually became the Director of Jazz Studies at Goucher College in Baltimore and co-chairman of the Jazz Department at the Levine School in Washington, D.C. I also became composer-in-residence for the Mid-Atlantic Chamber Orchestra. I gave concerts with the Lenox Ensemble, an improvisation group of classical musicians in Washington, D.C. I started writing articles and reviews as a contributing editor for Piano & Keyboard Magazine. I attended the BMI Musical Theater Workshop in New York for four years, learning to write for musical theater. At various times, I have been active as a chamber musician, orchestral pianist, silent film improviser, voice coach, recording artist, television soundtrack musician, theory teacher, ballet accompanist (Nureyev and Fonteyn), proofreader, adjudicator, and lecturer. I still continue to perform concertos by Mozart, Brahms, and Rachmaninoff nonetheless. I love teaching, and I can teach people how to do any of the things I have listed.
If I have a specialty, it is French piano music. To be fair, I must say that Ravel is my favorite composer and that it is Faure’s music that I am in love with.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
“How do you memorize all those notes? It’s amazing!”
I don’t know how I do it. I’m the one who is the most amazed.
“How many hours do you practice?”
As many as I need to.
“Are you from a musical family?”
I’m the first professional musician. Both of my parents were aeronautical engineers, but my mother played the piano and the cello, and my father played the piano, violin, flute, double bass, recorder, penny whistle, and ocarina. At the age of 40, he took up the guitar. My sister plays the piano and my older brother plays the harmonica. He is the only other musician I’ve met who shares my exact musical instincts and imagination when it comes to timing, phrasing, and arranging tunes.
“What kind of piano do you own?”
I have two Yamahas.
“Where are you from?”
I was born in St. Louis, Missouri, and I live in the Washington, D.C. area.
“Have you made any recordings?”
Yes. You can get them from my website.
“Do you have any good students?”
I have only good students.
“How old were you when you started playing the piano?”
I began formal lessons at the age of 7, but I was playing before that. My earliest memory of playing the piano is standing up to reach the keys and improvising a piece of music about the ocean. Strange, for someone living in Missouri.
“When did you know that you wanted to be a musician?”
When I first heard music.
“What is the span of your hand on the keyboard?”
I can reach a tenth.
“Who is your favorite composer?”
Ravel.
“Don’t your hands ever get tired?”
No, I’m just getting started.
“What are you thinking about while you’re playing onstage?”
You hear what I’m thinking.
“Your music made me cry.”
Was it that bad?
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
What is the real story behind those last-minute substitutions that you have done when another pianist has canceled a concert? Like, how many hours was it really from the time they called you to the time of the concert?
— Curious
Dear Curious:
Well, the story goes something like this:
“I see that Claudio Arrau is playing the Brahms Second two weeks from now. What if he cancels? Maybe I should start practicing.” I was talking to my friend George Orner, who was the principal second violinist in the Baltimore Symphony at the time. I was just joking. I didn’t practice the piece.
That was October, 1977. In early July, I had performed the Brahms Second Concerto at the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center in New York. I was in the orchestra pit, and the Stuttgart Ballet was onstage dancing to the music, which they had choreographed. Although I had first studied the piece in 1972 and had memorized it then, I was reading from the score for security during the ballet performances because I had to completely subsume my own interpretation of the music in favor of the dancers’ requirements. Four movements long and over forty minutes playing time, the Brahms Second Concerto is one of the biggest and most difficult pieces in the piano repertoire.
The summer and early fall of 1977 found me in kind of a funk. For one thing, I had been sick for some weeks that summer. For another, I had finished my studies at Peabody Conservatory and was wondering and worrying about my future career as a concert pianist, which didn’t look too certain. I hadn’t touched the Brahms Second Concerto since July; in fact, I wasn’t practicing the piano much at all. I was reading a lot, focusing on classics such as the Iliad and the Bible as a self-directed study in the humanities.
At 3:30 p.m. on November 2, 1977, I was reading a passage from Ecclesiastes that said, in effect, don’t imagine that you know what will happen next, when I received a phone call from Ann Goldberg of the Baltimore Symphony. “Can you play for Arrau tonight?” Ann was the person who engaged the soloists with the symphony. I flashed back on my remark to George Orner. I wasn’t sure I understood what she was asking. “Arrau is sick,” she went on. I asked, “Do you mean, could I be on hand in case he can’t do it?” “He is not going to play. Please hold.” This was one of several times that I was put on hold during the conversation. Ann was taking calls from all over the country. She had called the managers of Andre Watts, John Browning, and several other luminaries, and all of them were calling her back to say no.
Teri Gold, a singer whose student recital I had recently accompanied at Peabody, was working as Ann’s assistant. She told me later that she had said to Ann, “What about Jeffrey?” I was a known quantity at the Baltimore Symphony, having been a concerto soloist with them several times already. Ann asked, “Does he play the piece?” Teri went to get the list of my repertoire from a file cabinet. As she put it, “Jeffrey, my hands were shaking when I reached for that file.”
Thank you, Teri Gold.
When Ann came back to me on the phone, I asked, “Could I just play through the piece once and then let you know?” “No, we need to know now. Please hold.” I ran to my music cabinet, pulled out the Brahms score, and carried it back to the phone. I opened it on the floor in front of me and started turning the pages with one hand while holding the phone with the other. Ann came back. “Jeffrey?”
I had one thought: if I didn’t do this, I would hate myself for the rest of my life. “Okay, I’ll do it,” I told her. “All right, when I’ll get Comissiona’s approval, I’ll call you back,” she said, and hung up. Sergiu Comissiona was the conductor. At 4:00 o’clock, she called back. “You’re on.” The concert program would begin at 8:15.
The only other phone call that came that afternoon was from the symphony board member who was hosting a reception for Arrau that night; could I attend in his place? Yes, of course, was my reply. I made a call to George Orner to ask for a ride to the concert. A piano student came to my door, totally forgotten, whom I had to send away. I didn’t even take time to call my parents.
I played through the piece once with the music and then once without the music. I did my afternoon meditation. I ate some scrambled eggs. Then I got dressed. As I fastened the cuff links on my tuxedo shirt, I asked myself what I was doing. “I’m playing the Brahms,” I answered to myself.
George picked me up a little after 7:00. “Psychic,” he said to me as I got in his car. At 7:30, I was meeting with the conductor in my backstage dressing room at the Lyric Theater. As I played through the piano part on a tiny upright piano, he sang along and conducted. He was concerned that I wasn’t making a big sound. “I’m saving it for the concert,” I told him.
The concerto was the second half of the program. I waited through the first half and the intermission. Then it was time. I walked onstage. I had decided that it would be a distraction to read the music, so I was performing the Brahms Second Concerto for the first time in public by memory. I played the first movement. There was applause afterwards. I played the second movement. One little slip-up in the second theme, but retrieved on the repeat. Again, applause afterwards. Third, fourth movements went by. Last chord. I stood up, turned to Sergiu, yelled “Jesus Christ!” which, in the roar of applause, I’m not sure even he could hear, and gave him a hug. Standing ovation. I walked offstage. My head, from the concentration and energy, felt as if it were expanded to arm’s width.
There were excited reviews in the paper the next day. Word was out. That night, the repeat of the previous evening’s program (some joked that it had been the rehearsal) brought numerous friends and colleagues to the audience. They formed a long line to greet me backstage after the concert. “So this is what it takes to get you downtown,” one of them said.
Subsequently, whenever Comissiona introduced me to someone, he would say, “This is Jeffrey Chappell, who substituted for Claudio Arrau on four hours’ notice.” As the number of years from the actual event lengthened, the number of hours in the story shortened. After awhile, he would say “Three hours’ notice.” Then, “Two hours.” “One hour.” My legend is greater than I am.
As a reward, the symphony hired me back to play the Khachaturian Concerto with them the following season. That performance took place in March, 1979 and was conducted by my teacher, Leon Fleisher.
At 5:00 p.m. on Monday, October 11, 2004, while giving a piano lesson at Goucher College, I received a phone call from my manager. Could I play the Khachaturian Concerto with the Annapolis Symphony that week to substitute for a pianist who had canceled? I hadn’t even looked at the piece since my last performance of it twenty-five years before with the Baltimore Symphony. Two nights later, I was in rehearsal. This time, I used the music so that I could maximize my practice time on the text and not on memorization.
Although the Annapolis Symphony had sent out an alarm to managers all over the United States, expecting to fly the substitute soloist in from anywhere, I had to drive just 45 minutes from my Washington, D.C. area home for the rehearsals and concerts. I took the week off from teaching and instead spent my time napping and practicing. I called it my Khachaturian vacation.
I also took the time to send out an e-mail to various people to let them know that I was making a last-minute substitution for another pianist who had canceled, with details of the performances in case they could attend. One of them wrote back, “What do you mean, ‘last-minute’? You have two whole days.”
The two performances on Friday and Saturday garnered standing ovations as well as compliments from the conductor, David Itkin, and the musicians in the orchestra and in the audience. At Saturday’s reception after the concert, an elderly woman approached me to express her enjoyment of the performance. She told me that it was amazing to her that I could pull off such a feat in so little time—how did I do it? I replied that I didn’t know how I did it, and that I was the person who was the most amazed by the whole thing. She cut right through it. “No, you’re not,” she said.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
I enjoy playing music, but I’m afraid that gaining too much technical ability or theoretical knowledge could get in the way of my spontaneity. Should I be worried?
— Worrier
Dear Worrier:
It may not be necessary to gain technical ability or theoretical knowledge if you want to create your entire musical world just using the gifts and abilities that you already have. Many tremendously successful musicians in the field of pop music, for example, have done exactly this. It is possible to operate within a restricted set of parameters in order to generate expressive and durable artistic statements.
But if you are intent on gaining ability and knowledge, your question takes on validity.
Regarding technical ability: The only technique that can get in your way is the one that you haven’t mastered. If you have to think about doing the technique, then it will distract you. Your goal should be total mastery so that you can spontaneously do anything that you want. There is no downside to that.
Regarding knowledge of music theory: There are two kinds of knowledge: experience and understanding. Experience is concrete, physical, and in the present time. Understanding is abstract, mental, and can be about the past or future.
It is possible to experience something without understanding it, and it is possible to understand something without experiencing it. If you both experience what you understand and understand what you experience, then you have complete knowledge.
The two words in the phrase "music theory" represent the two kinds of knowledge. Music is what you experience, and theory is the method of understanding it.
The theoretical knowledge of music is intellectual and analytical. It consists of naming things and identifying their relationships. Naming things enables you to communicate with other people about music. Identifying relationships enables you to predict results.
The answer to this part of your question depends on whether you are relating to music as a listener, improviser, composer, or performer.
As a listener, if you want to indulge yourself (as I sometimes do) by being wonder-struck at the mystery of a piece of music, you might be better off not knowing what its theoretical analysis consists of. It is not necessary to understand music at the level of your intellect. Music is the sound of feelings. Feelings are a form of understanding. Therefore, you can understand a piece of music at the level of your feelings.
As an improviser or as a composer, being able to predict results will increase your success. You will definitely be better off knowing all you can about music theory.
As a performer of someone else’s music, knowing music theory will help you to understand a composition from the viewpoint of its creator. That would be the greatest understanding.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.
Dear Mr. Chappell:
You asked if I had any questions at all. I do. What is the meaning of life?
— Questing
Dear Questing:
To understand the meaning of life, it is first necessary to understand the meaning of meaning. Let me explain this by giving an example: If I were to walk past the house where you live, it would mean nothing to me because I have no connection with that house. If you were to walk past that house, it would mean a lot to you because you have a lot of connections with that house. Therefore, meaning results from things connecting with other things. The more connections you can find in your life, the more meaning it will have. And if you can know that you are connected with everything else, then your life will have the most meaning possible.
— J.C.
Listen to Jeffrey Chappell's interview about a life in music in this half-hour "Muse Mentors" podcast from October 2020.