- Since attention is limited, the part engaged in reading notes is not available for focusing fully on technical and/or musical matters. Memorization frees attention for where it could be most useful.
- Since our senses partly overlap, our auditory and kinesthetic senses (including tactile) are actually enhanced when supported by visual information. One can listen better to what you can also feel and hear.
- Since there is a correlation between eye movements and internal sensory processing, freedom of eye movement, instead of fixation on the score, could actually enhance the processing of sensory information.
- Fixation of our gaze on one limited area (the score) for prolonged periods often causes bad posture, resulting in sub-optimal bio-mechanics. Relaxed eyes with freedom to move around spontaneously is conducive to better posture and better concentration.
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 What constitutes expressive musical performance? Is it simply playing “with feeling” due to some mysterious “essence” called musicality that only some lucky few are born with, as many believe? And is it therefore purely subjective, not open to objective evaluation about which there might be consensus?
Contrary to popular notions, there is actually a great deal of agreement among professionals about what constitutes expressive musical performance. There is even more agreement about what does not qualify as expressive musical performance. Differences of opinion mostly relate to details of application, not to underlying principles. Understanding of the principles -- the “deep structure of performance”, if you like -- is a matter of training, understanding and experience. Applications of the principles -- let’s call it “the surface structure” -- allows for more personal preferences. In this essay I will present a conceptual framework for thinking about expressive musical performance. I will draw distinctions between principles, variable means of application, and a criterion for success. I will also present a framework for thinking about levels of complexity in performance. Levels of abstraction Expressive musical performance is underpinned by fundamental principles that allow for variable application. When the distinction between principle and application is missed, i.e. when levels of abstraction are confused, disagreements tend to degenerate into battles over “right” and “wrong”. There may be different preferences for details of application, while the same fundamental principles are followed. In fact, it could be argued that it is the very nature of the principles of expressive musicality that allow for variety in application. Thankfully so, because the uniformity of “one right way” could be the death of musical expressivity. Context and individuality require a multiplicity of possible application for music to remain potent. Let’s start with the greatest agreement: that which is unmusical. It is quite obvious when performance lacks expressivity. If we eliminate what is universally considered as “unmusical” or unexpressive, we can explore what remains as expressive, or “musical” performance. What is generally regarded as unmusical? Unmusical is uniformity, rigidity, monotony, stasis. What would be the opposites? Variety, flexibility, contrast, movement. In other words, differences that convey information, as opposed to uniformity that doesn’t. If the score is followed exactly, as far as it is possible to do so, the result is unexpressive. The typical notation app’s auditory electronic rendition of a score is a good example. It follows the score absolutely strictly. The result is rigidly metrical with no deviations, and therefore sounds mechanical. Humans experience it as totally unexpressive. At the very least there is no variation in time (no tempo fluctuations and no flexibility in rhythm), nor in timbre, nor in sound volume within phrases. So, per definition, the absence of deviation from the exact metrical structure of the score is unexpressive. Musical or expressive performance is in fact deliberate deviation, according to specific principles, and within limits, from the rigid framework imposed by the notation system. Music notation Musical interpretation too often seems to put the cart in front of the horse, as if the notation system is the genesis for musical invention, rather than merely the medium for transmission. It is as if the notation system functions as a mold into which notes are poured in order to shape them into music. But perhaps that is the wrong way around. Musical invention/creativity comes first, after which it is codified (“arranged according to a plan or system”) using a notation system. It is as if the music is inevitably more or less distorted to make it fit the mold. Notation comes after the fact; it is not the musical fact itself. The peasant spontaneously expressing his/her emotions in song doesn’t do so in the first place with our western notation system in mind. The expression does not confine itself to the restraints imposed by the notation system. The notation system might be used after the fact to codify the musical expression, but it is not the source. The score -- the symbols arranged according to a strict metrical system -- is a representation of the music. It is not the music itself. It represents what the composer had in mind. But all forms of representation, of all subjects in any medium, inevitably involve deletion, distortion, and generalization. Therefore, the map is not the territory. The score is not the music. The rigidity of organization imposed by the notation system, for all its great advantages, is at times contrary to the natural punctuation, and the ebb and flow of spontaneous musical phrasing. Consider the idea of note-groupings. The way notes are arranged by our notation system into groups within bars according to strict metrical divisions, is often contrary to natural or musical note grouping. Think of groups of notes as musical letters, words or sentences (phrases). Musical phrases often transcend the bar lines. So, for example, the first note in a bar is often actually the last note of a previous note grouping (or phrase), rather than the first note of a new group or phrase. This has definite consequences for musical phrasing (how we punctuate the music) in performance. For example, contrary to what most of us were taught, the first beat is not always the “strong” beat, with the up-beat to it the “weak” beat. If the first note in a bar is in fact the last note of a phrase, then it is "weak", not strong as the "norm" would have it for first beats in bars. Principles of expressive performance What might be principles of musical expressivity that allow for meaningful and variable deviation from the rigidities of the notation? These might be candidates:
How do we know that these principles are fundamental to musical expressivity? Partly, because they are spontaneously expressed in discourses about our musical experiences. Our words reflect them. And partly because performances that move us profoundly seem to consistently embody these principles. Words reflect the cognitive metaphors we use to think about our experiences. In the case of music, these metaphors seem most prevalent: Music is movement (movement, arrival points, pacing, tempo, momentum, flow) Music is drama (character/s, events, moods, emotions) Music is architecture (structure, shape) Music is sex (male and female voices, tensions/resolutions, climaxes) Music is nature Music is painting (colour, line) Music is argument Our words about our musical experiences, whether as listeners or as performers, most often seem to indicate representations of movement, but also of unfolding drama, complete with characters and events. Indeed, we describe different musical ideas in terms of character, and the transformations and developments of those ideas in terms of events, usually leading to some kind of culmination point or climax, followed by resolution or conclusion. Yet another attractive metaphor for thinking about music is philosopher Roger Scruton’s idea that effective music “makes an argument”. It argues, as it were, for the value of its musical ideas and their interplay and development to the point where a complete and convincing case has been laid out. As premises are laid out in philosophical discourse, and worked into a coherent argument, so musical ideas are set out and worked into a coherent and convincing musical narrative. If it is done skilfully, and if it conveys meaning over and above the mere machinations of technique and showmanship, we find it expressive. If it expresses more than craft, it "moves" us, that is, engages our emotions, and we then call it art. In any case, music unfolds in time and we find it satisfying when it is an interesting journey, or engaging drama, or convincing argument, or whatever cognitive metaphor we use to understand its meaning. Variable application The principles for conveying musical meaning in performance, at least in Western art music, are fixed, but the means are variable. There is more than one way to convey a character, or tension and resolution, or foreground/background contrast, or balance of opposites, or movement, or punctuation. One might speed up where the other slows down; or play louder where the other goes softer; or take more time where another takes less time; or change timbre in a different spot, or articulate differently. But both are attempting to apply the same principles of musical expressivity. Here is a simple example of variable application: there are two ways to convey a musical climax. One is to speed up toward the climax, and then slow down on the other side. The other is the opposite: to slow down toward the climax, and speed up as soon as it is reached, in both cases combined with supporting changes in loudness. The effect could be the same, following the principle of conveying tensions and resolutions in the music, but the application is different. Application of the principles of expressive performance happens within a sophisticated frame of reference, which includes knowledge of music theory, composition, history, style, criticism, and acute awareness of performance practices past and present. These set the constraints to obey or to expand occasionally, as the case may be. The greatest players, having shown their mastery within the constraints, tend to venture beyond it eventually, expanding the framework within which the next generation of performers have to prove themselves. In such a way there is both continuity and change (dare we say "progress"?). Criterion for application What would be the most fundamental (or highest) criterion for the effective application of such principles? I would argue for proportionality. The proportions of all the elements of music and performance determine its expressive power. In other words, it is the proportionality of the performer’s application of the elements of music that determines the expressive success of the principles followed. It is the proportions that determine whether the conveyance of character, tensions/resolutions, movement, foreground/background, balance of opposites, and punctuation is convincing. What are such elements? Durations (including tempo and rhythm), dynamics, timbre, articulation, and punctuation (including silences). Getting the proportions “right” certainly does not mean not that there is one, and only one, ratio and scale of proportions for any given piece, to be applied equally by everyone. Getting the proportions right means that within the “channel of style” (Dorothy DeLay’s term) set by convention (but subject to changes over time), each performer applies a coherent and consistent set of proportions. It is the coherence and consistency of proportion, more than specific proportions themselves that is crucial. The specifics may differ between performers, or even performances by the same performer, and from one era or convention to another. Certainly, there are scale differences between styles of music (greater in Romantic music than in Baroque music, for example). That is a given. Individual preferences might differ, while still following the same principles. We might not like a given application of the principles, but that does not necessarily mean the principles are violated. In other words, it is not necessarily a question of right or wrong. Wrong would be when principles are violated, not when application is variable. Variety is the spice of life, also in music. It allows for different performers at different times to perform the same music in varied ways that still conform to the same principles of musical expression. It is akin to the use of natural language. The same finite rules of grammar allow for an infinite variety of expression. The rules for constructing well-formed sentences in any given language is followed by everyone, mostly intuitively. But no two people express themselves in the same way. Levels of complexity Of course, there are levels of complexity in music. Some music (and performance) could be called one-dimensional: tempo and dynamics basically remain the same throughout. Everything remains at one level. Muzak (“elevator music”) comes to mind. Other music has changes in tempo and dynamics. It gets louder and softer, and faster and slower. That would be two-dimensional music. At the top of the complexity hierarchy would be three-dimensional music and performance. That is when a third dimension is present. It could be called the depth-dimension. This third dimension involves the additional subtleties of timbre, articulation, foreground/background distinctions, along the Sound/Loudness axis; and rubato, punctuation and expressive rhythms along the Time/Tempo axis. See graph. Usually the third dimension (the depth axis) is where greatness manifests. (The great violin pedagogue Dorothy DeLay cynically remarked that quite a few world famous soloists seem to get away with producing only good intonation and a big fat sound). It should be added that the use and value of music is context dependent. There is a place for Muzak, and for party music, and for religious music, and for concert music. The subtleties of Brahms or Debussy would be utterly lost in an elevator, while Muzak would not suit a concert hall or cathedral. To each its own. Summary The summarize: expressive musical performance is not simply a subjective process of playing with feeling, but the application of principles of expressivity about which there is wide agreement among experts. These principles require systematic deviation from the rigours of the printed score, and allow for variable means of application resulting in differences in individual performances. The effectiveness of the applications of the principles depends on the proportions into which the elements of music and performance are arranged. The greatest mastery is characterized by fine distinctions in a third dimension of “depth” represented by a model of levels of complexity in music and performance. Such mastery requires thorough training, understanding and much mindful experience. “I think of the bow. It relaxes my whole psyche. I get up there and I think, the bow! That’s it. All of a sudden I am in the same place, you see.” - Pinchas Zukerman
There used to be “colour by the numbers” colouring books for kids. Perhaps there still are. The colours to be used are indicated by numbers inside bordered areas, much like a jigsaw puzzle. By following the indicated numbers precisely a child can reproduce quite sophisticated colouring. A similar technique can be used to apply the precise bow movements for shaping the dynamics of a phrase. Like the numbering scheme for colours, numbered sounding points can be assigned for different dynamic levels. For example, let’s say you want a phrase to follow a dynamic curve from piano to forte and back down. One can then assign each of 4 sounding points to a dynamic level: p = number 5 (on the fingerboard, adjacent to its edge); mp = number 4 (next to the finger board); mf = number 3 (in the middle between the finger board and the bridge); f = number 2 (next to the bridge). To produce the second half of the curve, the sequence is reversed. Each note or note group requiring a different dynamic level is assigned a specific sounding point, making the sequence 5-4-3-2-3-4-5. This gives you precise visual reference points for doing with the bow exactly what is needed to produce a dynamic curve. To produce a clear resonant sound at each dynamic level, the other factors that influence the friction of the bow on the string - weight and bow speed - will of course have to be adapted accordingly. This may happen automatically, or will have to be adjusted deliberately. But the main metric in this exercise is the sounding point where the bow hair meets the string. To do this properly it is essential to memorise the music, so that you are free to look where you are drawing the bow. Consistently assigning a sounding point for a dynamic level is an excellent way to develop precise bow control. If this is done continuously, a strong association eventually develops between the visual information and the kinesthetic “feel” of different sounding points and their resulting sound, eventually freeing the player from always having to look where they are bowing. But then again, even a consummate master of sound production, quoted above, says, “I think of the bow…”, while he regularly looks at his sounding points. Dorothy DeLay often expressed the critical importance of giving students (or yourself) precise instructions about what to do mechanically on the instrument, instead of high-sounding but vague notions that are not easily translated into the correct actions. “More sound” is vague; “closer to the bridge with more weight” is precise. “Warmer sound” is vague; “wider (or faster) vibrato” is much more precise. She pointed out that great violinists, like Itzhak Perlman, for example, are aware, moment to moment, of exactly what sounding point they are playing. Playing by the numbers to develop precise sounding point control has been recommended by many great pedagogues through the ages. Make it an integral part of your daily practice and you’ll be surprised by the results. Awareness Cures.
There are different levels of awareness. We can be aware of the overall quality (or lack of it) of something without being aware of the detail that makes it so. It’s the difference between hearing and listening. Hearing is taking in the whole, the gestalt; listening is focusing on the detail. The one is getting an overview; the other is making fine distinctions. The one seems passive; the other is active. When asked about the intonation of a scale they have just played, students are usually aware of less than perfect intonation (they “heard”), but often they have missed the details - of which notes exactly were out of tune and how specifically. They weren’t really “listening”. As soon as they are asked to identify specifics, they start to really listen to the intonation, note by note, and become aware of where and how specifically they play out of tune (is it sharp or flat, and by how much?). Such focused, zoomed-in awareness usually affects a rapid cure. Dorothy DeLay used to complain that many players don’t listen intently enough. They vaguely hear what is going on in their own playing, but they only intermittently listen to the detail. Or they might listen to the detail of some facets of their playing, but not to others. So for example, they might play with good intonation, but with one-dimensional sound, or with vibrato too randomly controlled. The ability to really zoom in with focused listening on the detail of all facets of their playing is what separates the masters from the rest. In a discussion with students at the Aspen Music School and Festival, Itzhak Perlman said that he thought the greatest challenge for a performer is to really listen to themselves. Indeed, to really listen with attention that is both objective and focused on the moment to moment detail is not easy. It takes discipline and practice. Simple failure to listen intently is one part of the problem. The solution is to understand the difference between different levels of awareness - between hearing and listening - and to develop the skill and discipline of focused listening. The power of questions For focusing one’s listening it helps to ask yourself about specifics. When you hear yourself playing out of tune, ask which notes, specifically, are out of tune? Then play it again with laser-sharp focus of attention to find out. Awareness of the details is essential for fixing it. In fact, very often problems seem to disappear by themselves when our awareness is sufficiently sharp. Another example: which notes, specifically, have no vibrato, or need a different kind? Truly listen this time, attentively, so that you can gather the required information for making a change. Another part of the problem is the limits of our awareness at any given moment. Since our attention is limited, it is impossible to be aware of all the relevant details, and very difficult to be truly objective. That is why we need tools for supplementing our awareness and changing our perspective. Not only students have such a need, but professionals also do. We have two resources: other people and technology. Your teachers, other professionals, your peers and friends can provide much useful feedback. They can help you become aware of details you missed, and give an objective impression that eluded you. So can your cell phone and other recording devices. To hear and see yourself objectively can be extremely sobering and enlightening. It is surprising how keen our judgment can be when we have a different perspective. Few experiences can be so instantly effective. Make use of it. Play for other people and record yourself regularly. It will expand your awareness and enhance your objectivity immensely. Awareness does indeed cure. By not simply hearing, but listening actively to the detail, moment to moment; by asking ourselves questions to elicit specifics and make distinctions; and by making regular use of the feedback provided by others and by technology, we can significantly improve our playing. A fundamental idea in behavior sciences is that rapport is a prerequisite for effective communication.
Rapport is in essence a two step process: 1. Gathering optimum sensory information about your communication partner (what does s/he look like, sound like, feel like? How is s/he communicating verbally and non-verbally?) 2. Mirroring the essential process elements (the how), as distinct from the content (the what), back to your partner so s/he can experience a sense of familiarity which allows for a feeling of ease. Thus, by speaking the other person’s process language, verbally and non-verbally, a base of mutual understanding is established, allowing people to communicate “in step”, as it were. This is known as rapport and greatly facilitates the understanding of the content of communication. Sensory information about the total spectrum of a person’s communication patterns provides a framework for understanding the content of his/her message. All the myriad details of a person’s non-verbal patterns (voice-tone, inflection, tempo and rhythm of speech, body-posture, hand- and facial gestures, etc.) constitute the context within which the verbal content of his/her communication finds its meaning. By becoming aware of a person’s communication patterns and then reflecting it back, or getting “in step” with it, as in a purposeful dance, an efficient process is established for effective communication, with the partners alternately “leading” or “following” in the “dance”, as the case may be. Comprehensive information gathering is thus the essential first step without which the rest of the process is unlikely to succeed. Similarly, playing a musical instrument can be thought of as a partnership between the player and his/her instrument. The instrument can be regarded as a collection of information about possibilities of sound, while the player can be thought of as the agent for realizing those possibilities, offering his/her own set of information. Now, it must be stressed that there is no absolute dividing line between the information presented by the instrument and that of the player. This is illustrated by the fact that different players can each elicit their own distinct kind of sound from the same instrument. It is, as in all effective communication, a “dance” between two partners bringing together two sets of information for a common purpose, which is to make glorious music. In effect, the player and his/her instrument “dance” (perform) together to the tune of the music being played. For the dance between player and instrument to be most effective, the first step of the process is the establishment of rapport. The player must gather comprehensive information about the instrument and its responses to the player’s actions. Sensory awareness is paramount: what does it sound like, look like, and feel like? The next step is to reflect back, or respond in kind, which is to say that the player has to understand and accept the possibilities offered by this particular instrument, respecting its individuality and its limitations, and then engage in a partnership, a dance, in which the best is evoked from both. With sufficient rapport, the player’s own individual sound conception meshes with the instrument, giving rise to results that may be more than the sum of the parts. Ignoring this process and forcing one’s idea of sound on the instrument without being exquisitely aware of its unique character and possibilities is too much like rape. Sound becomes forced and harsh, muscles become stiff and bruised, and the love of music is forgotten or lost. Playing a musical instrument -- playing your particular personal musical instrument -- should be a dance of love, a mutual performance, animated by gorgeous music. We can actually do multi-tasking when we practice! By multi-tasking I mean we can develop more than one skill at a time.
For example, while working on a left-hand issue, we can simultaneously develop our control at different parts of the bow, as well as of different bow strokes. Each time we repeat a passage, we can do it at a different part of the bow (middle, tip, frog, or any place in-between); and at a different sounding point; and we can do it with different bow strokes (detaché, spiccato, martelé, etc.). That way, for the same time spent, we have multiple gains: we get repetitions of left hand actions, as well as practice of different bow stroke skills. Practicing this way actually has multiple advantages:
Now that is a bargain, is it not?! We have to practice with surgical precision. This is necessary to save time and to solve problems properly. When we practice in a sloppy manner - letting problems slip by; postponing the necessary work to fix them; working on chunks that are too large and include material that doesn’t need particular focus - we waste time, and often solidify mistakes, making it more difficult to fix them later.
Surgical precision is done by immediately zooming in on trouble spots, not wasting time on passages that we can play properly. Once we have identified and zoomed in on a problematic spot, we should memorize it right away so that we can pay full attention to our interaction with our instrument without the distraction of having to read the score. The next step is to lower the tempo and intensity of sensory stimuli so that we can make finer distinctions. If we play too fast, loud and tense, things become blurry, preventing us from the quality feedback required for refining how we play. To clean up sloppy playing, we need to slow down, play softer and rid ourselves of excess tension. Then we should engineer a solution (or solutions) by:
Of course, musical performance entails much more than our theories of it allow.. Complex skills do involve more than we can say in words. As the great Martha Graham said, “if I could say it, I wouldn’t have to dance it.”
But that doesn’t mean we can’t make explicit some key elements of great performance. Even though our descriptions are necessarily incomplete, and fall short of what can only be fully gained through exposure and experience, we can learn a lot by reverse engineering, as it were, what masterful musical performers do. Let’s start with a basic question: What distinguishes superior musical performance? What are the most striking differences between masterful and mediocre musical performance? It seems to me that the most important differences can be sorted into three fundamental categories: differences, kinetics, and shape. Great performers make more differences than lesser performers. If one could tally the number of differences made, you would find that master performers do so much more than lesser performers. These are differences of many kinds: dynamics, articulation, voicing, timbre, tempo-rubato, rhythmic flexibility, timing, etc. Great performers also have a much more active sense of kinetics (movement or momentum). They know how to manage, or present, the energy curves of the music, by speeding up and slowing down in proportion to the inherent harmonic and other tensions and resolutions. In addition, compared to less accomplished performers, great performers “shape” the music in ways more curvy than square, and congruent with the ebb and flow of tensions and resolutions in the music. Proportion To achieve this, they present the different elements in just the right proportions. In fact, the essence of musically satisfying performance is proportion. If the different elements are presented in the right proportions, the result is aesthetically convincing. If the proportions are inappropriate, the result is not satisfactory. What are those elements? To play expressively, performers apply various proportions and gradations of
Differences A law of information has it that information is news of difference. Blandness is absence of information. A blank sheet of paper contains no information. As soon as coherent differences are added– elements that contrast with each other and with the background - a message or a picture starts to emerge. Likewise, noise that is too uniform is called white noise, because like a white sheet of paper, it carries no information. Introduce differences in the form of pitches, articulations, rhythms, loudness, and voila!, speech or music becomes discernible. It’s the difference that makes the difference. Differences carry information. For example, it’s the difference between one’s and zero’s and their sequential arrangements that allow computers to be such effective processors of information. In musical performance too, it is the differences that make the difference. Due to the greater number of differences in superior musical performance compared to lesser performance, more information is communicated. Such differences enhance definition. The musical elements are presented in sharper relief, more clearly etched out, delineated. A key factor in how convincing a musical performance is, is the extent to which all channels of communication carry the same information or message. In a word: congruence. Is the phrasing congruent with the character of the music? Does the visual appearance of the performance match the character of what is heard? If there is incongruence – if incompatible information is communicated, the audience is not convinced. They may not know exactly why, but will unconsciously pick up any mismatch in what is communicated, and will experience indifference or even unease. It could very well be that the spell-binding, mesmerizing, entrancing, or riveting (note the words associated with the phenomenon of trance) quality of exceptional performances result from the “hypnotic” power of congruence. When the totality of people’s attention is occupied with congruent information, i.e. information that carries the same or closely related meaning, they tend to go into trance. When people are “entranced” during a “spell-binding” concert performance, they exhibit the typical signs of trance: enhanced facial symmetry, defocused eyes, slower breathing, softer muscle tonus, and a narrowing of attention to the exclusion of other stimuli, etc. And as we’ve already noted, the words they use to describe their experience have strong associations with trance. Related to congruence is the idea of closure. Closure means that musical utterances, on all levels from small to large – from phrases to whole compositions – are concluded in ways that are congruent with the character of what was played. Principally, it has to do with timing and gesture at points of conclusion. For example, abruptness following the last notes of a piece can disturb the character, preventing the natural dissipation of the atmosphere. Proper closure could be described as providing sufficient psychological space for affective experience to run its natural course. Interrupting the natural flow of affective experience toward conclusion or dissipation has the undesirable effect of cancelling out, or neutralizing, much of what has been experienced until then. Masterful performers provide closure that is congruent with the character of the music played. It sets the seal on the musical message they communicated. Kinetics In addition to more differences, superior performance shows a keener sense of kinetics, of movement toward and away from musical high-points, like rubber bands that attach the performer to it, drawing him faster toward the goals, and slowing him down on the other side. Beginners and lesser performers tend to play straight, square, rigid, stocky, mechanical. Uniformity and rigidity prevail, rather than variety and suppleness. Masterful performers know that mechanical is soulless. Instead, they convey a sense of movement that is organic. They understand that if everything is equal – if all beats are divided exactly equally, if all rhythms are played absolutely straight, and if tempo remains metronomically static - then nothing is special. And if nothing is special, then there is no anticipation of musical pay-offs, or climaxes, or high-points, no expectations that can be satisfied or denied, no organic curve of tension and resolution, nothing exciting in wait for the musical traveler. As on a journey, in music there are destinations, high-points, resting places, diversions, detours, pit-stops. There are periods of urgency, requiring quicker forward motion, more momentum. These are alternated with periods of relaxation, where an ambling pace is more appropriate. Sometimes, the music rushes urgently toward a destination; at other times it relaxes to enjoy the scenery; and there are times when it comes to a complete standstill. Since music is an event unfolding in time, it is always going somewhere, at least in the traditional Western tonal harmonic system. It is in essence a system of tensions and resolutions that creates a sense of movement – a journey, if you will – away from and eventually back to “home base”. That sense of movement characterizes not only whole compositions or movements of a composition (note the word, “move-ments”; and note also that we speak of being “moved” by music), but also smaller parts like melodies and phrases and sub-phrases. There also, subtle quickening of momentum towards high-points with relaxation thereafter enhances the affective power of the music. When conveyed by expert performers, movement is seldom mechanical, stocky or rigid (unless, of course, the music has deliberate mechanical character). Mechanical is cold and lifeless. Rather, musical movement is usually organic. It is fluid and supple. Music moves and breathes like an organism, in contrast to mechanically rattling on like a machine. Like expressive speech, it is nuanced, not stiffly measured. It’s like dancing as opposed to marching. Seducing, not commanding. It is smoothed, rounded and poised, not clipped and clocked; curvy, not square. Another insight of masterful performers that contributes to their sense of kinetics is that notes can often be more meaningfully grouped, musically speaking, than is apparent from notational conventions. Musical groupings can transcend bar-lines and beats. For example, it often makes more musical sense to consider the last note/s of groups that are notated according to beats, as belonging to the next group of notes notated as if they were a separate unit. Playing it that way contributes to the sense of forward motion, or momentum, so fundamental to a satisfying musical journey. The idea of up-beats and down-beats, notated on either sides of bar lines, but actually together forming indivisible units, comes from ancient Greek dance, where the arsis and thesis (up-beat and down-beat) are parts of one smooth movement, that of the leg going up in preparation of coming down for the next step. Lifting the leg is not a separate movement from putting the leg down – that would be disjointed movement. It is one flowing action. Arsis and thesis belong together, as if there is no bar-line separating them. So a crucial element in the process of shaping a performance to “move” people, is to have a sense of organic movement, of kinetics. That sense is enhanced by looking beyond bar-lines and beat-groupings, to find a more musically satisfying way of regarding notes as belonging together as units. It’s a question of not being imprisoned by the bar-lines and enslaved by metronomic beats, both of which are results of notation convention rather than intrinsic musical sense. Shape Another way to express the nuanced characteristic of masterful musical performance, is to describe it as the “shaping” of the music. This “shaping” essentially has to do with proportion: how much of each expressive factor is employed relative to others. In fact, it could be argued that the essence of musical “shaping” is proportion. The most fundamental criterion for decisions about relative loudness, tempo, timing, articulation, timbre, etc., of any element in a composition is its relation to other elements and to the whole. Getting the proportions right is the main musical challenge. That’s why structural analysis is the starting point. It is the process of identifying musical elements, or units, their character, and their relationship to the rest of the system. Yes, it can be called a “system”, because in a musical masterpiece, everything is somehow interrelated. The most basic “shape” in music is probably an arch, or a curve. Why? Presumably because we live in a “curvy” world. Think of the horizon, of the sun and moon, of the glide-path of any flying object, of the swing of a limb, of the uterus, of mommy’s breast, of the female form. We are a sexy species! Roundness, curves, arches are what turn us on and what sustain us. In music, as in life. Think of the tension curves of metabolic processes like hunger and sexual arousal. The curvy nature of life is reflected in music – both the parabolic shapes we see, as mentioned, and also the tension and resolution “curves” of our basic biological drives. Musical utterances, on all levels from motifs to whole compositions, can thus be thought of as a series of arches, with each arch representing an increase followed by a resolution of tension. In the presentation of musical utterances, the laws of nature are followed, where opposites define each other and together form wholeness, like the concept of Yin-Yang in Chinese philosophy: Up-and-down, high-and-low, fast-and-slow, light-and-dark, heavy-and-light, etc. So in music, opposites tend to alternate and compliment one another in order to engender a sense of balance, of wholeness or completeness. If the first phrase or a sub-phrase goes up in pitch, the following one tends to come down. If there are jumps in pitch, it tends to be followed by step-wise motion. A quickening in tempo is followed by a slowing down. Louder is followed by softer. Legato (connected) sounds are followed by staccato (disconnected) articulation. An increase in harmonic dissonance (tension) is followed by more consonance (resolution). Rhythmic complexity is followed by simplicity. What goes up must come down. I like to say that what you take away, you must give back. If you speed up, you must balance it out by going slower; if you play louder, you must become softer again; and so on. This can be accomplished through any of the musical elements, or any combination thereof: pitch, rhythm, tempo, volume, harmony, timbre, articulation. Often, this is a succession of opposites. Pitch rising, then lowering; louder followed by softer; faster balanced out by slower. What goes up, must come down. It’s about balance: an increase followed by a decrease. While all notes are important, at least in master-pieces, not all should receive equal emphasis, or have equal weight. Some notes or harmonies (combinations of notes) are indeed more special than others. Not all destinations on a journey are equally significant; not all events in a drama are equally pivotal; not all elements of foreplay are equally titillating; not all parts of a building are equally impressive; and so on. In musical events there is usually a whole spectrum of significance. There are the major pivotal points/moments, but often there are also lesser points of gravity, more or less regularly spaced. These are like telephone poles, or pillars, between which the other notes may flow less anchored. Part of the performer’s task is to identify not only the major high-points, but the other more regular points of gravity, or anchors, or pillars, or telephone poles, between which the music is strung. Motifs, phrases, themes, melodies, movements – these are names for musical utterances of various lengths, much like clauses, sentences, paragraphs and chapters in language. And like language, musical utterances have their own rhetorical devices and nuances. Notes can be emphasized, rhythms can be bent a little, silences can be lengthened or shortened somewhat (or entrances can be anticipated or delayed), etc. – all to heighten the musical message. These factors are mutually supportive. For example, a rise in harmonic tension with an increase in loudness (crescendo) can be supported by a quickening in tempo, followed by a slowing down with the harmonic resolution – all in proportion of course, and within what Dorothy DeLay called, “the channel of style”. The scale of proportions depends mostly on the context and the overall style of the piece. For example, the scale of the differences admissible in Romantic music is generally much larger than that in Baroque music. The striving for balance in musical performance can be thought of as having two dimensions, vertical and horizontal. The vertical dimension represents the expressive factors of loudness, timbre, articulation; the horizontal dimension represents movement, i.e. tempo and rhythm. The two categories, vertical and horizontal, should be in proportion. The scale of differences in one should be matched by those in the other. The reader may have noticed the mix of metaphors. Musical richness translates uneasily and insufficiently into words, refusing to be reduced to single metaphors. Music can be variously thought of as:
These metaphors are discernible in our language: we speak of musical “movement”, of “where the music is going” (journey) of musical “drama”, of “voices” having a “dialogue”, of musical “questions” and “answers”, of the “character” of a theme or melody or a movement, of “tone poems” (narration) of the “shape” of a phrase, of the “structure” of a piece, of making its “architecture” audible (architecture) of “male” and “female” “voices” and cadences, and of “tensions” building toward “climaxes” (sex) The richness of the musical message performers communicate is informed (inform-ation) by the richness of the metaphors they use to engage with the music. These fundamental ideas, gleaned from reverse engineering masterful musical performance, are encapsulated in the following questions, devised to help performers focus on the crucial elements for presenting music in “moving” ways. 1. What’s the structure of the piece? [identifying musical ideas] (What are the main themes, phrases? Where are the cadences? Transitions? Sequences? Patterns? Modulations?) 2.What's the character (of a phrase, melody, section, movement, piece)? 3. Where is it going (where are the high-points and climaxes)? 4. How can opposites be highlighted and balanced? 5. How can notes be grouped musically (as opposed to notationally)? 6. How can momentum be used to support the other indicators of tensions and resolutions? Many years ago, the violinist turned conductor, Alberto Bolet, taught me his four “C’s”: Colour Contour Character Contrast Considering our investigation, we might add three more “C’s”: Climax Congruence Closure That gives us Seven “C’s” for representing the ideas offered here for masterful musical performance: Contour, Character, Contrast, Colour, Climax, Congruence, Closure. Proportion In the final analysis, the art of musical performance lies in how the performer proportions the elements of music to achieve the desired measure of differences, kinetics and shape - or, if you like, the seven “C’s”. Proportion is the fundamental essence of satisfying musical performance. If the proportions are right, the music moves us. If not, we feel uneasy. All of this is not to suggest that performers invariably go through such complicated conscious procedures with every composition they are preparing to perform. It's similar to the difference between having an impromptu conversation and preparing a complicated speech. Expert performers know the musical language, can speak it fluently, and sometimes, depending on the piece, they are simply having an impromptu musical conversation, intuitively following the musical rules of grammar and rhetoric. At other times they have to thoroughly plan for delivering a complicated musical "speech". And of course there is a whole spectrum in between. Their conscious cognitive engagement can vary considerably on that spectrum, depending on the challenges posed by a particular piece. To summarize: In order to entrance audiences with masterful musical performance, we need to consider the differences we make, the sense of kinetics we provide, and the ways we shape the musical material. To help us do that we can ask six fundamental questions about the music we are preparing to perform, and ponder the presence of seven key elements in how we perform it. To conclude, there is good news, and there is bad news. The good news is that we can learn much from masterful musical performance. There are indeed patterns and structure to what great performers do. This has been an attempt to verbalize some of it. The bad news is that there is a lot that remains unsaid, and that can be acquired only through intense engagement with a particular composition over an extended period of time. For that there are no short-cuts. It is the musical, non-verbal discourse between you, your instrument and the composition. Only by living with a piece, by engaging it with your instrument over a long period of time, can you begin to discover the depths of its inner workings and its meaning to you. Musical interpretation involves both objective and subjective processes. The objective processes involve the “science” of music: the theory, analyses, rules, practices, techniques and procedures of musicianship. The subjective processes are what transpire in your personal engagement with the music through your instrument. Both processes are essential. In the final analysis, what you end up offering an audience, when all is said and done, is your personal experience of the music. The end product of all your objective and subjective preparation for performance is what the music means to you. You are in effect saying to the audience, “having studied this music objectively with all the tools available, and having lived with is through my instrument, this is what it means to me, and this is how much I value it.” Providing personal meaning and value is essential for truly engaging an audience. For the immense privilege of having an audience, we performers have the responsibility to do all the objective and subjective work required to provide a compelling experience of intense personal meaning and value. That is no mean task. It requires intense study and engagement. May the differences you make carry much musical information; may the kinetics you employ take listeners on an exciting musical journey; and may your musical shapes be truly elegant. In short, be musically articulate, mobile and sexy! In a master class long ago, legendary pianist Krystian Zimerman gave the following advice for overcoming stage fright:
1. Be well prepared. Doubt about our preparation - even the slightest doubt - easily translates into nervousness. Eliminate any doubt about your preparation for performance by making sure that your practicing for performance has been more than adequate. Remember, as we practice so we perform. 2. Change your thinking about the audience to something positive. Realize that people spend time and money to share in your love of the music you are performing. They are present at your performance to share in something special. It is a privilege to share wonderful music. Give the music as a gift. 3. When you are practicing, imagine the performance situation as realistically as possible, so that you can learn to cope with whatever anxiety arises. Weak spots will become obvious. Sort them out especially well when you practice. Similar to Zimerman, Itzhak Perlman related that as a teenager when practicing at home, he would pretend an upcoming performance situation so vividly, that he would actually experience the same nervousness, allowing him to learn to cope. He would enter the living room from the bathroom as if entering the stage from the green room, and then perform as if in the actual concert. In this way he practiced performing. Doing this allowed him to discover passages that needed extra preparation, as well as providing opportunities to get used to nervousness and learn to control it. Take note, folks, there is an app that completely and utterly overshadows all other teaching and learning apps. Nothing comes close. It has been tested and fine-tuned by the best violinists ever. And it's free. And you already have it.
It's your mind. It is the product of millions of years of evolution. It runs on the most complicated mechanism in the known universe. It’s hardware transforms along with its software. With every software update the hardware adapts to it. For all practical purposes it’s capacity seems unlimited. The more you use it the better it gets. It is a stupendous learning machine. Could you expect anything that impressive from a cell phone app? Would you outsource what your mind can do to some cell phone app? Sadly, outsourcing our minds has become addictive. We are hooked by the digital sugar designed by clever people to make as junkies, so that our mindless behaviour can make them money. Sure, the idea of outsourcing some mental tasks in order to focus on more important things is not in itself a bad idea. But when we have become addicted to digital sugar our judgement is compromised. We lose track of the really important stuff. We all know the spectacle of people sitting at dinner tables, unable to communicate with each other because they are glued to their cell phones for getting their continuous digital sugar fixes. Digital communication in a virtual world is no substitute for authentic interaction in the real world. Similarly, learning apps for cell phones are no substitutes for using your own mind. Our biggest challenge is not to find the most useful cell phone app for organizing our learning, but to learn to manage our own incredible minds. By discovering and expanding the app inside our skulls while engaging with our bodies and our musical instruments in the real world, we learn vastly more, not only about playing the violin and making music, but about ourselves as living organisms who aspire to so much more than becoming digital junkies. To settle for anything less is to deprive ourselves and our fellow human beings of meaningful existence. Don’t be a digital junkie. Don’t depend on digital apps to do what your mind can do infinitely better. Use the greatest learning app ever created. Use your mind to learn to play the violin. |
Piet Koornhof
School of Music, North West University, Potchefstroom Campus, South Africa Archives
November 2020
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