excerpts from "My Journey through Bach" - Fugues

Although I will be explaining each individual fugue in detail in the following chapters, I believe there is a need to address the subject generally, as fugues are the most difficult kind of music to master on the violin. A fugue, as we all know, is a musical form. It can be found in chamber works, symphonies, and of course in the keyboard repertoire (especially for the organ). But the violin is, in essence, a melodic instrument, and we struggle to fulfill the role usually given to several players, or to the keyboard.



A fugue is not a creation of beauty in the classic/romantic sense of the word; it does not carry a beautiful melodic tune, like the theme of Beethoven’s Spring Sonata or Chausson’s Poeme, or even in other movements of the solo sonatas and partitas. In other words, you probably never found yourself humming a fugue theme while in the shower...

The interest, and the beauty, arise from the construction of the form; we marvel at the complexity of Bach’s creation, and as performers, struggle to achieve technical and musical mastery of such ‘un-violinstic’ pieces, which are almost alien to the instrument’s ideal of a single singing voice.



I always ask myself how a violin fugue sounds from the listener’s chair (and I mean the ‘ticket-paying’ chair, not the ‘fellow-musician’ chair.). I suspect the audience often hears a very different piece to what we think we play.



Your main aim in presenting a fugue should be that the audience will understand the form without needing to have it explained to them in printed word or in a pre-recital lecture. To achieve this, you should present the theme in a clear, precise way and show, with timing and bow control, how it travels between the voices. This is the single most important musical element to highlight, and your audience should register (consciously or unconsciously) every time the theme returns. I can not stress enough how careful you should be to play the theme in the same way every time, unless you find a good reason for the change (such as an harmonic change from the original theme). This is more easily said than done, since the fugal-road is full of musical potholes and traps.



Take for example the G minor fugue’s theme. The last note of the theme (Bb) is the resolution and thus a point of less energy. The second time the theme appears, the last note is a double stop (from bottom to top – Eb and D), and you must decide whether to imitate the theme in the same way or show the harmonic surprise by increasing energy (volume and intensity). The third time the theme is played, the last note (double stop from top -Eb and G) is a clear resolution again, and must be played with diminished strength, yet it is easy to let enthusiasm or sheer mounting pressure take over, and whack the last double stop. You must be very careful (always, but especially in the fugues) not to let technical difficulties dictate the musical line.



A very good exercise in musical understanding is to mark in the music each time the theme appears. You will soon be struggling with the concept of what exactly a ‘theme’ means theme’ and whether what you play is the original line, or a development of thematic material.

Does a change of one note affect whether it counts as the theme? What about a change of two or three notes? These sort of questions used to keep me awake at night, so now I take sleeping tablets and count separately the number of times the ‘pure theme’ appears and the times the ‘altered theme’ (up to two notes changed) makes an appearance. When you add these together, you get the number of times your audience should register ‘theme’ during the fugue. Whether you want to highlight the difference between ‘pure’ and ‘altered’ depends on individual cases and personal taste. There is always a risk of overstating your ideas but the usual, most common mistake, is oversight.



Just remember: Theme Rules.

intonation in shifting

I divide the movements we use in playing to "conscious" and "unconscious" (or "aware" and "unaware"). Just like driving a car, there are movements so ingrained in us that we do not think about them in a form of direct command (accelerating, checking the rear view mirror, vibrato, putting fingers in tone and semi tone distance), i.e. we do not tell ourselves "step on the accelerator, shift gear", we simply do it on command.

I use the driving example not only because most of us have experience in it but because in driving and playing the violin, we change our perspective for the same movements when circumstances change. Bad weather, icy road, broken lights in a junction or a police car behind us makes us bring those unconscious movements into the conscious mind. We pause, we slow down, hesitate, evaluate, and become acutely aware of a possible danger, sometimes to the point of making a mistake. Those of us which were unfortunate to need to re take a driving test later in life would know how every movement we used to do without thinking suddenly becomes painfully exposed.

In performing (playing the violin) we go through the same transition of awareness; movements which we did not think twice about executing in the practice room become conscious, non more so (in my experience) then shifting, intonation's greatest threat.

Even once "acclimatized" on stage (after 10 -15 minutes of playing), and fairly more relaxed, a long shift or jump will always come to the forefront of the brain. We'd think about before hand, worry about it, calculate our way towards it, then breathe a silent sigh of relief or utter a curse under our breath, depending on the outcome.

To practice a shift many times is important but this method might also hide false security, since our "motion memory" would correct most shifts on the third or fourth (sometimes even second) try. The problem is that we need to nail it on the first go.

The best test for "first time" is performance practice; a lesson, a class, a private run through or just coming back to the shift in later times during the practice session.

When I miss a shift under these circumstances I try to realize whether the mistake happened because I was not paying attention (shifting unconsciously, throwing the hand with the hope my motion memory would save the day) or was it a conscious shift (I thought I knew exactly where I put the finger down) which was simply in the wrong place.

My advice is first of all never taking any shift for granted while in the safety of the practice room. Work consciously on every single shift, from slow pace to performance speed, with and without vibrato (if vibrato is needed), always aiming to the target, asking yourself not only what went wrong when it happens but also what you are doing right when the playing the shift correctly. If during the performance you manage to relax to the point where shifts become subconscious again, well, lucky you, but I would prepare for worst case scenario when it comes to shifting.

The awareness of what went right is important because many times shifts fail because of bad body position. When we play it again we subconsciously correct the body position to be more comfortable. The implications for such understanding are obvious.

Be realistic about your shift: prolonging the time between the notes is a good working tool but you should concentrate on adhering to the exact circumstances of the piece (using the same speed, part of the bow, bow direction and articulation).

Pay attention to bow control, many shifts fall from grace because we move the bow too soon.

In practice, do not use vibrato to correct intonation mistakes. In performance: cover cover cover.

And I leave you with this thought: even the best pro basketball player in the world, with thousands of games under his belt, would still aim the ball while shooting to the basket.

This is how it should be done,

I am writing these words from Krakow airport after an intense but very satisfying week. I am coming back from a festival in Zakopane after being invited by Janush Wawrowski, one of my dearest friends, a student of my father (and I am proud to say I have been on the teacher seat for him as well). He is a fantastic violinist and a complete artist and you should check him out, especially the amazing version of Paganini caprices for violin and cello (arranged and performed by the phenomenal Marcin Zdunik).

This was his (and his talented wife, Bogumita Dziel) first experiment with making a festival, called "music in the mountains" and it featured artists such as the Kronos Quartet, the pianist Ewa Problocka and another dear friend of mine: the violin virtuoso Vadim Gluzman.

The festival was planned to showcase Polish music, which is mostly unknown even in Poland, and it certainly was an education. The Polish people have warm hearts and romantic souls and this is reflected in their music. I recommend wholeheartedly listening to Noskowski piano quartet, especially the divine second movement which is Brahmsimian like in its expanse. Vadim played the wonderful Karlowicz serenade, which is an absolute must for any violinist. Check out the polish romantic composers, ladies and gentlemen, there are real gems out there.

What I loved about this festival was the seriousness of the musicians, some of them in their early twenties. Poland is slowly becoming an exporter of fine musicians and every single one of the people I listened to or played with was accomplished and ready. Rehearsals were serious but also fun; everyone knew their scores and could "hold it together". Most important, there were no "egos" at play, not even when arguing about musical ideas, you said your flash of inspiration and if people did not like it, well, then you just went along with whatever most people feel like doing. The result was mind blowing. The last concert featured Schubert Trout Quintet, Krogulski octet (fun and funny piece) and Brahms sextet no.1 which rocked the house.

We all stayed in good hotels, had fine meals, receptions after every concert some of us perfected our pool playing technique. We played hard, and then we partied pretty well too, and believe me, after 8 hours of intense rehearsal lowering one self into a warm, bubbly Jacuzzi is not a luxury, it is a necessity.

So I got to play wonderful music, with amazing musicians, made some friends, partied, oh, and got paid for it too... Every once in a while comes and experience which makes you happy being a musician and this was definitely one of them.

The Bubble

This was a phone conversation around eight months ago:

Vesa: eyal, do you happen to play the viola?

Me: What are you talking about, I thought we were friends, how dare you imply…

Vesa: because if you do, we can play the concertante together.

Me: Of Course I can play the viola…

So I learned to play the Viola and flew to New Zealand.

Every time I go to New Zealand I come back rejuvenated. The country is beautiful, the people are just the nicest in the world but the best part of the trip is meeting my friend, Vesa-Matti Leppanen, who is the concert master of the NZ symphony orchestra. Every time we meet I learn something new (and not just how to play a new instrument).

This time I learned about the Bubble (or "the circle"); a technique Vesa uses on stage when playing solo, especially with orchestra. I have tried it myself and I wished I knew this years before, it is very effective.

The idea is that going on stage to play a concerto, with an orchestra behind you and hundreds of people in front of you can be a tad overwhelming…

In the rehearsal you find the space around you that you define as "mine" and create in imaginary circle. Inside the circle you are safe; nothing can come in, only come out. You play within the circle like playing inside your room, with your eyes fixed to the edge of the circle to stop them moving around the place (which can lead to all sorts of trouble).

There are three of those circles which increase in size. The smallest one is saved for those difficult passages and moments, the largest one is for the moments you want to include the audience and you can switch between them at will.

Thank you Vesa…

12 Frequent Mistakes During Practice,

In practicing basic technique – to concentrate purely on one aspect of technical problem without paying any attention to anything else is a grave mistake. While working on intonation, for example, you should always keep your eyes on the right arm as well and focus your tone.

In practicing pieces – practicing shifts without considering the speed and direction of the shift and whether you will use vibrato or not.

In practicing pieces – learning initially “only the notes” without musical agenda is one of the most common mistakes by students. Since the music agenda dictates speed, loudness, articulation, phrasing, timing, fingerings, tone production, use of vibrato and bowings, to say the least, not considering musicality from the very first stages makes the entire process of practicing a waste of time.

In practicing pieces – not bringing immediately (on first practice session) every segment that is played to performance level. Playing a piece or a segment of a piece, thinking “it will be good one day, maybe tomorrow, or the day after…” is never going to help you get it right. From the very beginning of learning you should strive to bring yourself to performance level (including learning by heart), and it does not matter whether you are practicing two lines, two measures or a whole fugue.

Not asking “why did it go right?” – We make a point when thing go wrong but seldom stop to think when we make it right. This is a crucial point of practicing since after spending time and effort and having overcome the difficulty, we should ask ourselves the following questions:

What have we done to make this work,
And
Can we guarantee that it will work in performance the first time we play it (hint: if the answer is “no”, do it again).


Not practicing with “performance mentality” – there is a vast difference, both mentally and physically, between playing through a piece after an hour or two of practice while being alone in a room, and stepping on a stage and doing it for the first time in front of a panel of jury. In the first case you feel warmed up and safe, having played the piece several times and it being fresh in your mind and knowing that you can stop at any time. In the second case you have to perform your best under great pressure and play through the piece without stopping to correct yourself or being given a second chance.
Many times I heard students complain “but it worked in the practice room” only to find out that they never tried to play the piece through before the lesson or did not properly learned it by heart. When you get to performance level make sure you put yourself under the same conditions as a real performance. This includes: recording yourself, playing the piece through with only a short warm up, awareness of where you will be playing (big stage, sitting down), the amount of movement space (never walk around) and performing to friends.

In practicing technique – not making the connection between the technical element you are improving and the pieces you are playing. Did you just spent precious time working on your spiccatto? Why not move immediately to the moment in the pieces you need to use it. Worked two hours on correcting your bow arm? Don’t throw it to the wind the second you begin playing the concerto.

Losing the ideal - always be connected to the mental “image”, or “sound”, of what you are trying to achieve. Never let your hands dictate the music and keep measuring what you actually play to what you really want to play.

“I already know that part” – no you don’t… and its younger sibling: “that’s easy” (no it’s not).

Not knowing the piano part/orchestra part of the sonata/concerto – of all the silly mistakes…

Following blindly the fingerings and bowings that are on the page – not every fingering is good for all players and not all bowings have the same musical agenda you might have. Mix it up, try different things, be imaginative, daring and curious about the sound variations you can produce. Come on… live a little.

Not following blindly the fingerings I gave you in our last lesson – yes, I know… (But it makes sense to me).

About computer games and playing Bach Chaconne

When you fire up a computer game you enter a totally imaginary world. It can be a space odyssey or an empire building game or anything else, and you know it is not “real”, it does not exist. Yet, the world which is presented to you, as fantastic as it may be, lies within a set of logical rules. The game, and the “world”, has to make sense to us and we must understand the settings in which we operate in; how many “lives” we have, how we can make “money” or become more powerful etc.

The same rules apply to novels and books or movies. You will not accept the settings of a science fiction novel if they appeared in an autobiography of a real person and an historical drama set in ancient Rome should not feature cars.

The same set of rules of reality making applies to playing Bach, Mozart, or any other piece. in this case, you, the performer, are responsible to show the listeners the “rules of the musical piece”, the logic in which the piece is played.

The classical world is full of “do”s and “do not”s and each era, Baroque to twelve-tones system, has its own set of rules to be followed (or ignored, according to your personal taste). The important bit is to stay within the rules you selected to follow so as to make sense in the context of the piece. Whether it is the direction of sequences in Bach and where you break them, the aggressiveness of articulation you use in Mozart, the thickness of your tone in Tchaikovsky or the lushness of your sound in Frank, these are the tools with which you present to the audience their reality and like a good novel or an exciting game, these rules should be apparent and consistent throughout the piece.

This is why the beginning of a piece is so crucial musically: your tone, articulation, phrasing, and even attitude should immediately set the boundaries in which you operate an everything you will change as you progress is relative to what your audience experienced before.

About the Fingers

I will generalize and say that most students tend to leave their fingers too much on the strings. This tendency has several reasons: most of us were taught this way as kids and keeping the fingers down to secure intonation, the will to keep the hand position and the wish not to move fingers which are “already in tune”. For example: you can see someone playing first finger, then fourth finger and back to the first without lifting the first. Another example, playing a D with the second finger (on G) then needing to play a fifth(A); instead of lifting the finger and repositioning it, the tendency is to twist the finger and squeeze between the strings.

There is nothing too wrong about those examples except that usually the fourth finger will probably not vibrate and the chances for a good, clean fifth are not very good.

When we press a note and keep on pressing we not only have certain pressure in the finger and hand, we also accumulate tension as well, which means the longer we hold the finger the stronger the tension. By lifting the finger we alleviate the pressure and the cancel tension.

When playing in a slow, singing style it is important to keep the hand as free from tension as possible in order to vibrate freely. This aspect, which falls under “musicality” and “sound” elements (see previous blogs for more about the ‘elements’), outweighs the extra “security” of intonation. Yes, you may have to take more time in practicing intonation and perhaps a few risks but the end result will be better quality music, which is what counts.

Lifting the fingers from the string is incredibly important in fast passages as well.

Since there are so many possibilities for error, I suggest taking some time and play parts of your repertoire in a “finger after finger” mode, in which only one finger touches the string at all times (except double stops and chords, of course). The fingers do not need to “fly up in the air” but be released and off the string unless they are pressing the note that is being played. This is a good way to find where you actually need to keep the fingers down and when the possibility exists to free the hand.