Like a Fighter Pilot
Recently I had the opportunity to play Paganini’s “Sonata for the Grand Viola” in a masterclass for Robert DeMaine, principal cellist of the LA Phil. DeMaine was a joy to work with - quick-witted, self-deprecating and extremely knowledgeable. My portion of the class was peppered with entertaining and diverse references ranging from Dante to a Prego commercial. This was the kind masterclasses in which the teacher introduces big ideas for the student to go home and chew on, rather than going into depth on one phrase or topic, which was exactly what I like! My head is still full of ideas from the class, and in this post you’ll get to watch me chew some of them with my mouth open (yuck!).
Play the Rests
The theme of the Paganini Sonata is a charming march-like melody that has a false ending at the beginning of the 4th bar, then comes in with a surprise crash-bang fortissimo:
Paganini Sonata - Theme opening
It’s a bit like someone tip-toeing around a house in the middle of the night who knocks a dish onto the floor, waking everyone! In my performance, however, I gave away the drama by telegraphing my motions during the rests. DeMaine wanted me to “play the rest” to generate more musical tension, creating drama in the silence. This applied to the big rest at the end of the phrase, but also to the little rests in the theme - by constantly playing on the front-side of the beat and cheating rests I was also losing some of the march-like character of the melody.
One of the concepts I’ve worked on in my playing this year is using residual physical energy from one note to get to another. I used to feel very awkward during short rests between phrases, until I realized I could time my motions (usually some kind of bow circle) to the rest. This helped me to match my physical gestures to the musical ones and would often help me feel more physically comfortable in performance.
DeMaine made me realize that I can’t apply this idea globally! In other words, while physical comfort and ease is an important principle of playing, this always has to be balanced against the demands of the music. In this case, starting from a dead stop in a dramatic rests communicates more clearly to the listener what’s happening in the music. In string playing it’s often the case that the physical gestures match the musical ones (since what we do is so physical), but in the case of something like a rest that is full of musical tension, the musical gesture outweighs what’s easier physically.
Think Like a Chess Player
DeMaine didn’t use this phrase verbatim, but the idea he shared made me think of this concept. Great chess players are always thinking several moves ahead, setting themselves up for their next move. DeMaine encouraged me to do the same - to always be preparing myself for my next move, and the next and the next, setting myself up to play what’s coming with maximum ease.
The more I thought about it, the more I thought of this as a core idea of technique - if the performer is constantly setting themselves up well for their next move, then the performance seems “effortless.” On the other hand, if a performer has, say, balanced their left hand towards the first finger to play a group of notes, but then needs to shift to a higher position, they may find their hand momentarily off balance, missing the shift. Our imaginary player set themselves up poorly, resulting in a momentary lapse the sophisticated listener will notice.
Playing groups of notes forwards and backwards is a good way to balance the hand for the GROUP, rather than one particular note. Playing shifts backwards and forwards is a good way to balance the HAND for both sides of the shift. On the bow side of things - playing string crossings backwards and forwards works similarly (hat tip to Ralph Fielding for all of those strategies!).
Having great bow distribution is primarily about PLANNING your bow well so that you are always in the part of the bow that you want to be. Poor planning on any of these levels results in uncoordinated playing at best, but often in some sort of mistake. At the very least, the performer will feel unbalanced while playing, or that something is “off.”
I think this idea of preparing yourself for the next thing, and the next, and the next, is also about being sensitive to the CONNECTIONS between notes. Connections between notes, just like our physical joints, tend to be what break down first. When those connections have been strengthened, polished, and made seamless, the audience no longer notices the mechanics of playing and can just appreciate the music itself.
Get exactly the sound that you want
At one point in the class, DeMaine asked me to slow down and “get exactly the sound you want.” Of course, this instruction presupposes you have ALREADY defined exactly the sound that you want! I struggled with this in college. In rehearsals one of my quartet mates might ask me, “How do you hear this phrase?” and I would be at a loss. If I’m honest, at that time of my life, I had fallen out of love with Music, and I was playing the notes on the page as if they were a set of instructions, not a work of Art that a composer had put a piece of themselves into. I wasn’t hearing things in my head and then trying to get them out of the instrument, I was just trying to play without making mistakes in the “instructions.” This was a pretty abysmal approach to playing!
Now that Music and I are on better terms, I have more of an appreciation of DeMaine’s instruction to “get exactly the sound you want.” It’s a simple direction, but also one of endless depth. As our awareness of all the nuances of sound - tone color, articulation, inflection, etc. - increases, the sharper our mental “picture” of the sound can become. The more we can hear, the more we can clearly define the sounds of our performance. The difference in how we hear as beginners and as advanced players (hopefully!) is like the difference between my family’s tv when I was growing up and the 8k UHD you can buy now. It’s a completely different level of clarity!
The best performers have a crystal clear vision of this sound and they have the musical technique to communicate that vision with high fidelity. What drives many of us to continue to improve (or to despair!), I think, is the gap between the musical vision in our head and its realization through the instrument. I take solace in the fact that with deliberate practice both our listening, our development of a musical vision, and our musical technique can improve forever!
“Like a Fighter Pilot”
DeMaine compared his performance mindset to a fighter pilot keeping track of their various gauges and meters. Like our imaginary pilot, DeMaine’s awareness moves back and forth constantly between myriad details in the music - rhythm, sound, intonation, etc. This is a testament to how much concentration is required for playing, but DeMaine also discussed how in this state of heightened awareness his brain is too occupied to be nervous. I liked this idea - if we are focussing our attention at all times on the details of the music we want to communicate and how we will execute them, there is very little mental space left for performance anxiety! This ties in closely with having a clear idea at all moments of the sound you want - the clearer that idea, the easier to know what to focus on in any moment.
What I took away from this was to be more intentional about my awareness in any moment of a piece. Essentially, make a plan about what I want to focus on, rather than leave it to chance. Of course in performance we have to flexible to what happens in the moment, but going in with a plan gives us more direction and confidence!
I learned a lot from this masterclass, and I’m already feeling some of the benefits from DeMaine’s ideas in my own playing. I hope some of these ideas help your playing too!