I attended an extraordinary masterclass the other morning at the Royal College of Music, given by the world famous Canadian pianist Angela Hewitt. She gave guidance and encouragement to three very good pianists. Her enthusiasm, sense of humour, and perceptive comments - her singing and dancing to illustrate the points she made, succeeded in transforming academically correct performances into living, breathing music.
The vitality of contrasts was a key point, which came up again and again: contrasts in all aspects of the music. For example, the contrasts between the left hand and the right hand: ‘with Bach you always practice the hands separately’ she said. Other contrasts related to Mozart’s melodic phrases, syncopation in Bach, and more generally, timing and its relation to breathing in and out. Also tension and relaxation: she explained about her training in ballet and in Scottish folk dance – she demonstrated several points by dancing, and also singing.
Once again I had the sense that dancing and singing are indivisible, and are fundamental elements that have to be there in some form, when playing an instrument effectively and expressively. This key factor is often neglected in the academic Western approach to music – watch audiences in classical music concerts: they sit mostly completely still, like stones.
Over the years I’ve noticed that when you are listening to some of the most powerful music of composers like Bach and Mozart, you find yourself breathing in time to it: these composers have a direct physical influence on their listeners. As this phenomenon had never been mentioned in my musical education, afterwards I asked Hewitt about it. She was enthusiastic in her response, and she again underlined the vital importance of the breath, and how you breathe when you perform a piece of music.
The vitality of contrasts was a key point, which came up again and again: contrasts in all aspects of the music. For example, the contrasts between the left hand and the right hand: ‘with Bach you always practice the hands separately’ she said. Other contrasts related to Mozart’s melodic phrases, syncopation in Bach, and more generally, timing and its relation to breathing in and out. Also tension and relaxation: she explained about her training in ballet and in Scottish folk dance – she demonstrated several points by dancing, and also singing.
Once again I had the sense that dancing and singing are indivisible, and are fundamental elements that have to be there in some form, when playing an instrument effectively and expressively. This key factor is often neglected in the academic Western approach to music – watch audiences in classical music concerts: they sit mostly completely still, like stones.
Over the years I’ve noticed that when you are listening to some of the most powerful music of composers like Bach and Mozart, you find yourself breathing in time to it: these composers have a direct physical influence on their listeners. As this phenomenon had never been mentioned in my musical education, afterwards I asked Hewitt about it. She was enthusiastic in her response, and she again underlined the vital importance of the breath, and how you breathe when you perform a piece of music.
