This Can't Be the End...

... is an encouraging statement to me. In the last couple weeks I've shown marked improvement in tonal delicacy just by actively attending to the way I play and vowing never to allow my hands to play harsh notes. At least, not without attempting to correct them. I have (of course!) noticed that even despite my vigilance, my ear invariably detects harshness in my playing. I choose to consider that the result of an ever increasing sensitivity of the ear and contributory to an overall increased aesthetic sensibility. Again, I opine: a good thing.

But... it is December 2016 and I'm still nowhere near ready to play my first Rachmaninoff—as I had hoped in a previous blog entry. I've made a list of what I consider to be the most accessible of his works. I've based it on my listening, my perusal of Henle's library and the difficulty level assigned to each piece or album it contains, and the RCM levels at which some of these pieces occur. This is what I've come up with:

1. Prelude in B Major (Op. 32, No. 11)
2. Prelude in F# minor (Op. 23, No. 1)
3. Melodie (Morceaux de Fantaisie, Op. 3, No. 3)
4. Elegie (Morceaux de Fantaisie, Op. 3, No. 1)
5. Prelude (Morceaux de Fantaisie, Op. 3, No. 2)
6. Prelude in D Major (Op. 23, No. 4)
7. Prelude in G-flat Major (Op. 23, No. 10)
8. Prelude in E-flat Major (Op. 23, No. 6)
9. Etude-Tableau in G minor (Op. 33, No. 8)

As is evident, my current RCM-7 level is no match for the "easiest" (ha!) of these. But I remain undiscouraged. Heartened, even, for it was two days ago that I recall watching some kids playing their ABRSM (post) Level 8 pieces extremely well and thinking, "Good thing I have three more years to develop that kind of flair." Good thing, I said! And I marked it, because never had I before revelled in the idea of requiring more time to develop. But I did in that moment, and spontaneously. 

I think that's a sign both of my accepting my current level and of my growing contentment with the progress I'm making. I finally have confidence in my ability to reach somewhere good,* and in the fact that I have already reached somewhere good. I'm happy to take the circuitous path to that "somewhere" because I want to develop a real visceral connection to piano playing—to really know it, experience it, understand it...

* Nice diction, treenataniesha!

The Aesthetic, pt. 2

So I've been adhering to my desired regimen of aesthetically driven practice. I never allow a note to leave my fingers without first subjecting the joints to some kind of disciplinary action. I'm really trying to wring as much delicacy as possible out of my fingers' action upon the keys. This means a lot—lot—of slow, controlled note-strikes, where I try to imbue my joints with something like shock absorbers (which I expect is just a generally increased sensitivity of the muscles controlling them). But this means I don't allow my fingers to bang upon the keys anymore. I try to let every one down easy in its turn. 

And it's not just difficult, but it's also sort of arresting in a certain sense. I realise I have to sacrifice progress (in a direction toward the final note of the score) for progress in a more vertical direction regarding my ability to get various levels of sound from each strike of a note. I like it, because it means I am now able to produce the soft sounds I've wanted. But I keep wondering how long it will take for me to produce these sounds without having to think about it. How long before I can take that increased dynamism for granted and move on to gaining more technique? I really haven't been committed to this for all that long—it's been exactly seven days!—so my impatience is kinda unwarranted. 

This new form of practice also means something for the way I move my hands and the kind of support my wrists provide. I find the motions—even contortions—are more deliberate and quite extreme. Still, I am always careful that everything I do is ergonomic, and I think it's even helped with a weird crick I'd had in my wrist for about a week or so. I move my hands as though outlining a lemniscate (rather than a circle), and that seems to create the most fluid motion on the keys. The circling of the wrists (which is often recommended as prophylaxis against carpal tunnel, etc.) actually seems to hurt, not help. So I don't do it. 

I'm a bit surprised at how committed I've become to this type of fluid wrist and finger action in my practising. It's making a real difference in the aesthetic of my playing, though, which is actually really important to me. I mean, it's actually making me play in a way I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to—though as yet ever so slowly and tentatively. I want to make not clangy noises on the piano but music. I don't want simply to strike a string of correct notes; I want them to depend from a string of fluidity whose aesthetic is both audible in the texture of the sounds as they light upon the tympanum and visible in the motion of my hands across the keys. And because I dare to dream of poetry, I'm willing to wait to play a song until I have the delicacy of touch necessary to truly make it sing. (Chopin's Raindrop Prelude is a case in point. I've loved that song for two years now, have acquired and looked at the score, but haven't touched it.) Consequently, I'm still working with Maykapar's Toccatina, Bach's Little Prelude in F, Loeschhorn's The Juggler, Haydn's Menuetto, and recently I added CPE Bach's Solfeggietto. These are pretty much all songs I'd played before, but with much less grace and aesthetic sensibility. This time I won't be done with them until they sound really fluid and light, like I'm playing with a feather for fingers, and with the utmost legato, even with my feet off the pedal! 

The Aesthetic

Two nights ago while playing scales I noted how clangy they sounded. I'd remembered times before when I'd been able to achieve some relatively impressive cantabile and I was quite depressed at my regression. Soon after it dawn on me (not for the first time, it seemed) that I really should play my scales with the same grace I would a piece or song. I began to realise that anything worth playing is worth playing well. Or, put another way: nothing I play should ever be treated as a "throw away" when it comes to practising tonal quality. Everything—every exercise—is a proving ground for tonality.

Legato, legato, legato!

So the next day (Sunday) I practised mainly scales, and I played them as though I were playing a song. And something happened. I began to notice a whole other dimension to my playing. I was playing with such a light touch and with graceful motions. I even closed my eyes and visualized the keyboard as I played C, D, and G harmonic minor scales in contrary motion. I can't even visualize scales in parallel motion! But it began to happen then, and then even today.

So it came to me today that I really have within my hands and fingers all the control necessary to make anything I play have a decently fluid sound. So if I'm ever playing and it sounds clangy, it's because I want it to. Consequently, I have no excuse ever to have anything sound that way again. So I must take care that it doesn't. 

Such is the aesthetic, the dance of the fingers upon the keys. Kevin J. Zhu has inspired me, because he has a built-in aesthetic that is quite prodigious. He progresses way too fast for me to get a true feel for the time it takes a mortal to get to each level, though. But still, he inspires, and I learn from him.

How long til'...?

The age old question. I've been asking it for two years. Well, I recently found a video of a small child playing Maykapar's Toccatina at full speed and relatively well. Then I checked later videos from the uploader, and he records this same kid presenting a very well-executed rendition of Chopin's Nocturne in C Minor two years later. Now, if he was playing Toccatina at the very edge of his ability (not likely), as I am, then it might take me a full two years of serious practice to get the supple carpals and metacarpals necessary for playing well pieces around the level of that Chopin. (Speaking of supple wrists, watch his as he plays Liszt's Six Consolations, No. 2 another two years after that! The kid's a genius.)

Two years seems long, alas, though I know it isn't and that once it has passed, it's past: I will never have to be less good again! But, in the words of Menudo: "It's the waiting that's driving me out of my mind!"

It is nevertheless heartening to know that such improvement is possible. Yesterday I acquired (way too early) copies of the RCM Level 8 Etudes and the score for Rachmaninoff's Etude-Tableau in G Minor. The music store here was having a moving sale, so I decided to get these things now before the store moves too far away for me to frequent it anymore. These will be material for my future technical development, as I am not now ready for them.

So... I've known this, but it really came home to me recently how important it is to practise pieces well within your range as well as the ones that stretch your technical abilities. I have now returned to the John Thompson Fourth Grade Book, as I said I would. I've been replaying The Juggler and (just today) I started Bach's Little Prelude in F Major. These no longer tax my abilities, so now I get to focus on really—I mean really—making the pieces sing. I would like to make an art out of my hands' motions, make them dance. (When I work my hands, the loosening of the wrists and the muscles in the palm and forearm actually feels therapeutic, almost like a massage.) I think exploring and experimenting within the limits of your current ability must be they way to work out the aesthetic of the discipline. Maybe that's how a musician acquires depth? I hope so, and that I'm doing it right. I sort of feels right.

Touch

I think today I acquired a more delicate touch in my left hand, especially the thumb, index, and middle fingers. I also worked a bit on the same fingers in the right hand while I was practising Maykapar's Toccatina. I recognized they needed work in comparison to the way the 3-4-5 finger combo was handling the opening of the Maykapar. Yesterday, too, I worked on tonal quality and dexterity in the left hand while practising Beethoven's Sonata in F Minor (Op. 2, No. 1). I was trying to get that Alberti bass part to sound like a true crescendo-diminuendo. See how the first two bars of the picture above has the climax on one note in the middle. That's played by the middle finger, but a similar thing happens a little later requiring the pinky to sound that loud note. It turns out that using the pinky to play a note that sounds loud in comparison to the rest of the fingers isn't the easiest thing in the world. Still, it's coming along. 

I'm still working on the G^♭ Major scale in contrary motion. That started coming together a bit better today, especially since I began feeling freer to practice the tone of the notes and to make the thumb crossings smoother. My wrists have loosened up a bit more to facilitate this, and this looseness shows up also in the C minor run in Haydn's Menuetto (pictured above-right) and the F minor run in Beethoven's sonata. It also shows up in a better handling of the first run passage in Mozart's Sonata in C, which I still occasionally use as an etude and a dexterity measure to sort of see how far I've come. So I guess I'm making some progress. 

Nevertheless, Onward! like it's the first day.

Random Update

Today I played C Major arpeggios and felt good about them. I was hitting the right notes most of the time and moving with more speed and confidence across the octaves. Again my body was moving along with my hands—though I suspect it might now be too much and I will soon need to tone that down.

I also read through a bunch of songs in JTMCP 3, including Bach's Prelude in C, Clementi's Sonatina, and Thompson's Tarantella. Played through Massenet's Melody, too—especially the beginning (refrain) which I memorised and was actually trying to play decently. I ended with some finger exercises. For the left hand, I used Burgmuller's Ballade and for the right Maykapar's Toccatina. Felt my 3rd and 4th finger loosen up when playing trills because I tried to work that technique at slow and medium speeds. I guess my read through the first part of The Skaters inspired this work out. It helped. 

Two-Year (Late) Check-in

I haven't posted in a few weeks, but I've been practising! That, at least, hasn't stopped.

It's been two years, one month, and (almost) two days since I started this journey, and I'm still happy I'm doing it. I've struggled with a lot of things, not the least of which are the technical aspects of practising—scales and especially arpeggios. I've been finding my progress with the latter to be slow and they are in general just harder than scales. Motivation to do them lags behind that of scales, which I do in small bits (but thoroughly) every day. I might end up doing arpeggios only 4 or 5 times a week. Maybe 6. 

I've recently (two days ago) switched the fingering for playing minor arpeggios that begin on white keys with a black in the middle (like Cm and Gm). This has made a huge difference in my ability to play accurately. I'd been doing 1-2-3-5 in both hands as with their major counterparts, and switching to 5-4-2-1 in the left hand has decreased a lot of the awkwardness and mild contortionism involved. (This was usually in the "descending" motion toward the low end of the keyboard, when the fingers 1-2-3 would find the gap between notes a tad too wide.)

I've also just now (in the past week or two) detected a general improvement in my body's ability to move in such a way that it facilitates the speed with which arpeggios cover the keyboard. Before, I wasn't moving my torso sideways fast or evenly enough, and I also didn't move automatically closer to the piano at either end of the six-octave arpeggios. Now I find my body more limber and almost eager to move—even shift!—for the sake of the exercise. That's heartening to me, because in general I'm too phlegmatic and, well, lazy actually. Even my elbows have begun to raise themselves and remain that way throughout my practice session. 

Scales have their challenges too, of course, not the least of which is the fact that so many of them exist! I'm working on G^♭ Major in contrary motion and have been for quite a few weeks. It's hard. I'm to the point where I play them without errors (but not fast) if I look at my hands, but mess up about once or twice when not looking. I did have a feeling of near mastery yesterday, though, when I was playing G minor harmonic in contrary motion. I had it down so well the dynamics were starting to come out: I was almost playing it with style!

O that G^♭ Major might become like that one day... 

I've also been working on D^♭ Major along with the G^♭, but it has proved a bit easier. I do need to give it more attention though. Still haven't really touched the black key minors yet. The volume!!! (cf. The horror!)

Having found my level (RCM 7), I've been working on one of the studies, and I've sight read Beethoven's Bagatelle a couple times. I'd like to work on Bertini's C minor study too, but right now I'm still memorising Maykapar's Toccatina, so... (sigh). It'll happen though, especially since my sight reading has improved enough that I don't fear reading at all anymore. (I'm at the end of the Piano Adventures 3B books—almost the last page, since I'm skipping the Pachelbel Canon in D entries because I despise that damn song.)

I hope to return to blogging about my John Thompson series soon. I'll be revisiting many songs I've played before because I've demoted myself. I may have to begin again with the fourth grade book actually, even if I start somewhere in the middle. Schubert's Scherzo in B^♭ (the second entry of the fifth grade book) is a level 8 RCM exam piece, so the second half of the fourth grade book seems about right. 

Level Discovery!

I've recently been looking at the RCM syllabus for piano. The technical requirements are quite detailed and seem to indicate that my current level (Sept. 14, 2016) is the seventh of their system. 

I currently have all major keys under my fingers pretty well in parallel motion, all white keys in contrary motion and I've started on the black. I don't have all the black minors down yet, and I haven't truly started on the melodic minor. But judging from the above list, it seems I'm about 70% complete with all RCM requires for level 7, and I already play them at a faster tempo than their minimum, so that also indicates this might be my current level. This is heartening because I remember looking at the technique for as low as level 3 several months ago (and level 1 two years ago when I started) and finding a lot on the list I hadn't even covered yet. So if I ever wanted proof of progress, here it is. 

The arpeggios I've also covered, although there's plenty of room for improvement in that department. Arpeggios are fiendishly difficult! I certainly have the tonic four-note chords down—always have had from my days of playing by ear. I've recently learned the cadences from the method books I've been using for sight reading, but even though the chords' inversions per se are no problem either, I really should practice playing them in succession—if only for the sake of being comprehensive. 

My dominant and diminished seventh arpeggios need some attention. I've only practised them sporadically in the past, just enough to realize how fun the diminished seventh is in the way it sounds and the way it's played. 

I've also identified a video of a student playing her Level 7 RCM pieces rather well. I'm going to try some of them, since I own the repertoire book that contains them. I tried a bit of Maykapar's Toccatina and it's fitting pretty easily under my fingers, so this fact supports my hypothesis as well. 

Sept. 21, 2016 Update: 
I've been practising the first couple phrases of the Maykapar for about a week (since Sept. 13, missing one day, I think) and even though it lay pretty well under my fingers from the beginning, since several of the figures in the right hand are variations of each other, it was hard to play the right note group at the right time and not get it mixed up with an earlier or later one. Today, finally, I felt my hand relax into the pattern, so that I no longer needed to worry about messing up. I'd played the entire portion correctly several times before, so I'm not just talking about the sort of fluke accuracy that is really a memory-aided phenomenon. This level of accuracy actually feels different in my fingers themselves. It's a little weird and difficult to describe, but it's a state I've been waiting eagerly to attain. I have been wondering how many repetitions it would take to reach it—for without it, I could never feel justified speeding up the passage. So... it takes 7 to 8 days for a passage of this length, then? Naturally, speeding it up introduces new instabilities, but that's all part of the process, I guess.

Nov. 29, 2016 Update:

I've got this pretty much up to speed, even though I'm not quite finished memorising. I need to work on the recap of the opening theme and the descending arpeggios at the end. But the problematic "note groups" still trouble me. These can be found in measures 2, 3, and 5, where fatigue and error are the main hazards. Yesterday I practised playing them with the proper aesthetic motion, but at speed. First it was necessary to slow it way down to have my hand learn the behaviour. It's coming along but not easily and not without the not-so-occasional relapses into error. (Sigh...) 

Still, I keep on.

Sight Reading Summer

I realized that my sight-reading was developing at a snail's pace and I wasn't sure whether I could remedy this at all--you know that whole question of whether good sight readers are born or made. However, I decided that if I were looking at colourful books with larger-sized print and simpler notation, I might be less reluctant to read a text. Less anxious, you know. 

So on June 29, 2016 I bought three books: Alfred's Basic Piano Course Levels 2 & 3, Alfred's Level 4, and Piano Adventures Sight Reading Book Level 2A.

(Update: Actually I was working on the Level 2B sight reading book, but got confused and consequently bought another copy of 2B from Amazon. Only recognised this after the books got delivered. When I tried to return it, Amazon refunded my money but said I didn't actually have to return it. Free book! Screenshot below.) 

I got a long way through Alfred's 2 & 3 and noticed such an improvement in my reading that I also got Piano Adventures Lesson Book Level 2A, finished that and the Sight Reading one (2A2B) and have moved on to Alfred's Level 4.

It turns out good sight readers are made! If I can improve this much in three weeks, that just about settles the question. I find the texts I'm working on in JT5 (Turkish March, Godard's Chopin, even Butterfly) a lot easier to read now, but I'm not finished with my remediation yet. 

I am fully committed to spending the summer doing this. Tomorrow (July 25) Amazon will deliver 8 more of these books to finish the Piano Adventure series (just the lesson and sight reading books, but still). I checked out some online samples of the books, and the Piano Adventure series' fifth book ends with Burgmuller's Ballade. This song falls about a third of the way through the John Thompson Third Grade Book. So I'm hoping (against all hope!) that by the time I get to the end of that Piano Adventures Level 5 book I'll be able to comfortably sight-read that entire John Thompson Third Grade text (and all the ones before it, which I had as a child and hope I'll be able to find in the bookshelves when I head home in about 10 days.) This I will do... and move through the entire series again reviewing and reading through the pieces. 

This is something I'll be focusing on for the next few months, as I've also decided to slow down my progress through the John Thompson books. I'm still working on Papillon, Turkish March, Sonata in F minor, and Menuetto along with Godard's Chopin, which I've just begun. In fact, I'm planning to return to JT's Third Grade Book and re-learn a few pieces. I hope to play them with the newfound technical skills I've since acquired and, consequently, at a higher level of competence. In the mean time, I'll keep working on technique. I've been doing this quite diligently since September 2015, but now I'll stop trying to gain speed/dexterity and work instead on tonal quality at the speeds I've already attained. I found videos of an amazing teacher online who requires a certain tone from her students, and I would like to emulate it.

July 29, 2016 Update Today I sight-read Massenet's Melody with alarming ease! And just one month after beginning this programme on June 29! My rhythm was a little wonky, but the rather weird and complicated rhythm is one of the song's defining characteristics, after all. And I think I've got it now. But the note reading was solid and forthcoming, and that's what I usually have problems with. I'm so stoked! Nevertheless... I will not abandon my proposed regimen. In fact, I'll stick to it with even more determination now. And to prove it, my books have arrived and I've already started tearing into the Piano Adventures Sight Reading Level 3A, which is why I forgot to add it to the lot pictured below. (It was on the piano's music stand.)

It's happening. I'm getting better at reading. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!!!!!

basic, I know...

but very very helpful

Sept. 14, 2016
Summer of reading continues. Finished up Piano Adventures Lesson and Sight Reading Books 3A and am now well into 3B. Also found John Thompson's First and Second Grade books on my shelf (as I had hoped) and am through the first. 

8. Erotikon

This piece Erotikon by Emil Sjogren contains a horde of arpeggios and in D-flat Major. These wide arpeggios (10ths mostly) seem to be good preparation for Benjamin Godard's song Chopin, which follows and is also in D-flat. This song (Erotikon) sounds kinda pretty-ish. I need to get a better version to see if I can come to fall in love with it after the fact--the way I have with Massenet's Melodie (from the Third Grade Book). I'm kinda waiting for my sight-reading to really get good--which I know it will in the next three months!--so I can start attacking this and other pieces with more alacrity... and confidence. 

7. Prelude

My goal was to use this piece as a sight-reading exercise, and I did read it through several times. However, I've dialed back the level of my sight-reading almost to square one, so I may return to this several months down the line and do a better job of reading it. Here's the opening. The chords are legion in this one, and that opening E in the right hand was a killer to read (but I was stoked to learn it). Overall, the ledger lines in the right hand provided the biggest challenge for me. 

J.T. describes it as a short prelude that's big in its proportions, so I think I might end up learning it one day. 

6. Turkish March

Fun song. Not taxing in the way of runs, except for the task of getting the pattern into my fingers' memory. But there are some fast appoggiaturas (in demisemis) that I need to execute with 123 in the right hand. Those took some practice. Coming up, too, are some broken octaves that I know will be hard, and I really should begin practising them sooner rather than later. So far I have learned first of the middle runs and the opening. I think I'll practise those broken octaves next.

This pic just looks like the notes are frolicking... doing a skateboard jump or something.

5. On Wings of Song

Sightreading. Lots of arpeggios and octaves--even in octaves. See first pic. I usually sightread without pedal.

4. Papillon (Butterfly)

This song was haaarrrd! In fact, is hard would be more accurate because I'm still working on it. Playing Edvard Grieg's Papillon, my fingers have to perform these weird contortions and the speed coupled with the long stretches (especially in the left hand) gives my joints a real workout. J. T. recommends some rubato, and whenever I listen to a recording of the piece, it's in the chromatic passages (as in photo above) that I always hear the rubato happening: it speeds up! So those parts become challenging on the fingers, too. (Actually, this recording is pretty amazing, because it's of Grieg himself playing Papillon in 1906!) Like Sonata in F Minor, though, once you get through the first section, the figures repeat either exactly or via transposition, so the text becomes easier to grasp. 

Here's a picture of the second section that forces the left hand to stretch (swing) to an eleventh! To be fair, the middle (or index) finger gets to act like an anchor/fulcrum to facilitate the stretch, but it's still an awfully long one. I recall Grieg's Waltz in the 4th grade book that required a similar long stretch--probably to a tenth, but still far for me because my fingers can only comfortably handle a ninth. 

This very difficult passage requires strange couplings of the fingers while executing fast, syncopated runs. Luckily the thumb is a strong finger and can easily whack out those accented notes, but the sensation of playing the accent on that beat (and so many in succession) is strange at first. I practised for a long time without the pedal because I wanted to get the passages as smooth as I could using pure technique. Adding the pedal really does improve the effect though, and I understand why it's part of the text. 

Below the right-hand syncopation happens again, this time a few notes higher up the keyboard (begins on C, where before it began on the G below.) It does something different just after where the picture cuts off. I'm still trying to figure it out.  

These runs are arpeggios in the left hand and chromatic-like scales in the right. They are beautiful. The second time around (below), they modulate back down to the original key and the bend in the melody just tugs at something inside me. It is pathos, and I love it! I think it might not be quite accurate to say the key changes at all throughout, though, as there's so much dissonance going on that it's hard to make a distinction between that and actual modulation. Either way, it's all nuanced and brill.

Then the text returns to its beginning, but with an octave in the left hand. It was once I got here that I realised I'd been playing F instead of F# the whole time. (Yike!) Luckily adjusting wasn't difficult because the shape of the hand was familiar from the first variation on that figure, which began in measure 4 on C#. (Whew!)

Here, a higher version of the initial phrase. Way up there at F#. But not as high as the final note of the song is low! Check out that finale. It happens on the lowest note of the keyboard. Bam!

My friend Jessica made a surreptitious recording of me practising. The phrase "fits and starts" accurately describes it, but here it is... for posterity.

3. Orientale

I used this as a sight-reading exercise. I guess I did that for the three songs that J. T. uses to ease us into the book. I was (and am!) still working on Sonata in F from the 4th grade book, so these that weren't so taxing to technique, I used to improve my still-weak sight-reading skills. I found that I was able to progress steadily through the text. Though I went slowly, I wasn't frustrated, and I consider that tremendous progress, as I usually face sight reading with trepidation and immense discomfort. The B^♭ major key signature wasn't too much of a hurdle.

2. Scherzo in B Flat

I used this piece (the Allegretto and Trio portions of which seem like two pieces) as sight reading exercises. I think these pieces, which sound jovial and robust, are much simpler than the book level. They were perhaps chosen to ease the student into the Fifth Grade Book without trepidation or intimidation. But when I started playing, it was clear that the technique wasn't really pushing my capabilities but lay well within them. So I sight-read a few times. 

These are great melodies though. I rather like Schubert. From Serenade through Valse Sentimentale up to now (and looking forward to his Impromptus), he has never failed to please. Too bad he died so young... ah Schubert and Keats, parallel tragic romantics.

1. Prelude in C Major

Yep, Fifth Grade book has begun (!), but I'm pretty much still straddling both this and the fourth grade, because February 28 has come and I'm still working on Beethoven's Sonata in F Minor!! This Bach piece is, I think, a bit easier than even John Thompson's version of Grade 5--but he always begins each book with an easier piece, I guess to ease the student into the grade. So I'm using this as a sight-reading exercise. Basically this pattern just repeats over and over. This is a song I've always wanted to learn, though. Perhaps I will memorize it one day. 

34. Theme from 6th Symphony (Pathetique)

This is a sight-reading exercise. The technical difficulty level is not that high, but it requires some sophistication regarding timing, since it is 5/4. I teach my students iambic pentameter, and I swear this time signature always makes me think of that. That's kind of what it is. I could set a Browning poem or Shakespeare sonnet to it, probably.

33. First Movement from Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1

Still working on this piece (January 27, 2016) even though I'm already posting. It's taking a long time, as it's by no means short or easy. The technical challenge is at RCM grade 10 level, and I believe it. Though it's been taxing, it's been rewarding rather than frustrating. I've been working on it concurrently with Mozart's K545 Rondo in C in order to break up the stress and monotony--if I ever feel them. Between those two pieces, I've been doing a lot of Alberti bass work. This is good. I really feel myself improving.

I know that even though I've only just reached the end of the sonata's exposition (i.e. nowhere near the end), I've previewed pretty much all the technique it requires. This means that the rest of the piece will be only "mildly" taxing and in the areas of memorization and technique perfection rather than technique acquisition. This is heartening, though perfection will naturally take a very long time--if it can be achieved at all.Soon it's on to the fifth grade book! But for now...

This part (left) was hard to get. I spent some time early in the game learning it because it looked like it would be difficult. The left hand broken octaves were definitely not intuitive. Took weeks and weeks to feel semi-comfortable and I'm still not 100% (Feb. 29, 2016). The good news is I actually felt my fingers relaxing in the left-hand version of the very first opening phrase today. I don't have a pic, but it occurs just before this section. I contains a C-minor arpeggio beginning on G and ending on E-flat. I'd been having some trouble with it for a while, the left hand being what it is. The triplet that follows was especially difficult, since I was using fingers 1-2-3. They felt really awkward and I probably could have changed to 2-3-4 and felt easier, but I figured the (former group of) fingers needed the work out, so I kept using them. (In general, those triplets were kind of a pain, but of the good kind.)

This is a nice, lyrical bit that follows the difficult LH section and immediately precedes that broken octave phrase above. It requires legato with chords, which is difficult when you have to switch more than one finger at a time. But I think I'm getting it. Below it is the companion section which kind of repeats the phrase on the above, but this time the right hand plays octaves. Notice that staccato in the first bar that allows the RH to leap onto the E-flat octave. Then the thumb has to stretch to reach the adjacent D^♭. Took a bit of practice, but it worked out.

 These two sections require major Alberti bass work. The left hand was tricky because the fingers shift Alberti-style between keys and the pattern alternates ever so slightly. I haven't ever really found Alberti bass to be scary, but this doubles whatever challenge it usually presents and leaves your mind to sift between the two until it figures it out. I messed up for a long time, especially at that leap to G-F^♭ in the middle bar (lower left). Even now, it surprises me every time I make the leap, even though I do it pretty consistently.





I remember having some trouble with the timing for this run at first. Then I remember practising it over and over for 2-3 days--that making up the entirety of the practice session spent on this song. I image I have of sitting in my darkening room while the sun set on my practice is visual, kinaesthetic, and eidetic. Not sure why it's so stark. I keep meaning to speed it up, now I've got it ingrained in my fingers, but I mostly forget.



I like this part with all its jumps and acciaccaturas. The leap isn't obvious here, but it's in the left and and does something like a diminished seventh. Took me a while to get the hand shape correct (but I had a head start because of a similar chord in the earlier measures). It repeats in this register and then leaps up an octave to do the same at a higher pitch.






Fun times playing a chord with all five fingers here. It feels very empowering (although I recall six-note chords from Chopin's Prelude in C Minor way back when!) I don't even know what to call that chord. Probably some kind of G suspended seventh. Dunno, but it resolves beautifully to A^♭ major.  I had some trouble getting there from the previous notes because positioning the left hand exactly right to hit all five notes took some practice. I've more or less got it now though.