The Beat of the Metronome:
Teaching
I NEVER REALLY intended to give piano lessons. It was another happening. People kept coming to me and asking for help in playing the hymns. This request often came from aspiring church pianists who had received classical training, but could not improvise.
I suppose nothing is more dry or less interesting than playing the hymns on the piano just as they are written. It must be remembered that the songs in our hymnals were written not for the piano, but for voices—soprano, alto, tenor and bass. An organist may use many combinations which enlarge upon and expand the music, but the pianist must use other techniques.
In these days, it is possible to obtain many helpful books of hymn arrangements, but when I began teaching, very little material of this type existed.
Many pianists seem to have the mistaken idea that this type of playing is easy. A young man comes to me and says, "I had the scales and all that stuff years ago.
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I just want you to show me how you add some of those runs, and I can do it." So, I show him how to play the runs, and he can't do it. Why? Not because he couldn't understand how to play the runs; no—it was simply because he didn't possess the technical ability to execute the music.
Sometimes, when the student suddenly realizes (after the first or second lesson) that this is going to be work, the lessons come to an abrupt conclusion. Unfortunately, this does not always deter him from advertising himself as "a pupil of Rudy Atwood."
It reminds me of the story of the organ grinder who was walking down the streets of Florence, playing one of the popular operatic arias of the day. The great violinist, Paganinni (who was then at the height of his popularity), was staying in the city, and he heard this music coming from the street musician. Paganinni rushed out into the street and cried, "No! No! It goes like this." And he proceeded to show the organ grinder just how the music should be played. The next day the organ grinder came down the street, playing the same tune, only now a sign was prominently displayed on the grind-organ, PUPIL OF PAGANINNI.
From my standpoint, the ideal student is one with a good background in technique, an interest in the classics, and a knowledge of harmony. This still does not guarantee that he will excel in the field of evangelistic piano playing, but it gives him a distinct advantage over the student who lacks this background.
Any church pianist should be able to read music, and read it well. As I explain to my students, it can be very embarrassing to have a soloist hand you a copy of "The
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Lord's Prayer," or an aria from Elijah by Mendelssohn, or Handel's Messiah, if you lack the reading ability and technical facility to play these numbers.
Several years ago, when I was teaching accompanying at Westmont College, I urged my students to familiarize themselves with the songs of Schubert and Schumann, since the piano accompaniments to these songs are outstanding examples of the way in which the piano perfectly complements the singer.
But I think that primarily the art of accompanying must be learned through experience. The ideal accompanist must not only have a thorough knowledge of the music he is playing, but he must also be able at the same time to read the vocalist's part and to listen to the singer.
It is possible to teach some ideas and principles of accompanying, but there is no substitute for actual experience. After all, no two singers will interpret the same song in the same way. The vocalist may sing the song however he pleases, but the accompanist must be flexible enough to follow the singer, whether he accelerates or retards in tempo, crescendos or diminishes in volume, and, of course, in his phrasing.
I am always delighted to work with a student who wants to become a "complete" pianist—one who can read music well, play solos effectively, and accompany any type of solo.
Unfortunately, very few churches have sufficient musical talent to feature orchestral groups. Ensemble playing is positively one of the finest educations for a musician, particularly in the area of sight-reading. I think I learned more about sight-reading back in my
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high school orchestra days than anywhere else.
I used to do a great deal of teaching (my all-time high was forty-five students a week when teaching at Westmont College in Santa Barbara), but nowadays I have ten students weekly, and this is just about all I can handle.
I am continually impressed by the sacrifices of time and money that parents are willing to make for their children's musical education. A few years ago I had two brothers who came to my home for regular lessons. Their father drove them from Fresno to my home in Hollywood, a round trip of 400 miles!
We have in our church an outstanding physician, Dr. Al Holt, who studied with me several years ago, and was one of my finest students. It was my pleasure to teach his daughter, Trixie, a few years ago, giving me two generations of students in the same family.
At one time I taught twin boys, who studied with me for several years. They played many two-piano arrangements together, and later went into piano teaching. I understand they have been very successful.
Another student who worked with me, Mrs. Malvina Hilborn, began teaching beginners, and the last I heard she had a large class of students.
Someone has said, "There are no good teachers—only good students." I have never considered myself an outstanding teacher, but I have some outstanding students, and I only wish space permitted mention of them all.
