What do you think of improvisation as a means to acquire technique?

[ranjit]

What do you think of improvisation as a way to acquire technique?

I personally feel that trying to improvise using a certain technique (fast octaves, scales, leaps, arpeggios) is a faster way to learn it than endlessly repeating technical exercises. I have acquired pretty much all my technique in this way. What do you think of this?

I think Cziffra mentioned something to this effect in his memoirs as well.

[vaniii]

What do you think of improvisation as a way to acquire technique?

I personally feel that trying to improvise using a certain technique (fast octaves, scales, leaps, arpeggios) is a faster way to learn it than endlessly repeating technical exercises. I have acquired pretty much all my technique in this way. What do you think of this?

I think Cziffra mentioned something to this effect in his memoirs as well.

When we understand technique is simply the way in which you do something, it makes sense.

If you need to be able to play thirds correctly, it would be a worthy pursuit to execute them outside of the way they are needed in a piece of music.

In some respect, that is what scales are.  Improvisation would be a means of using scales, chords, arpeggios and octaves ... etc, in a way that they are not mere exercises but borderline musical constructions.

The only problem I see, is potential ego massaging:

"Listen to my improvisation"; pianists proceeds to play notes that sound pleasant, but says very little musically.  Vladimir Horowitz once said, even your scales should sound beautiful, by extension, even your improvisation should be beautiful - to a listener, not just you.

[ranjit]

Improvisation would be a means of using scales, chords, arpeggios and octaves ... etc, in a way that they are not mere exercises but borderline musical constructions.

This was what I was referring to. 

Wouldn't it be less tedious to practice in this way, if possible? Basically, what I'm thinking is this:

It is near impossible to play scales attentively for a long period of time. After a time, you would be going "through the motions", instead of listening critically. This would lead to a loss of productivity. Instead, if you try to improvise using the technique, you would be both hearing it in context, thus getting a better intuitive grasp of it, as well as playing "mindfully", in a much more concentrated fashion. Of course, this should not be right at the beginning, but rather after "getting the hang" of the technique.

If you need to be able to play thirds correctly, it would be a worthy pursuit to execute them outside of the way they are needed in a piece of music.

I agree with you. However, I think, after say 20-25 consecutive repetitions of the same thing, the law of diminishing returns sets in. You could go on for hours playing the same thing without any discernible improvement.

Moreover, trying to use the technique to achieve a musically satisfying result often pushes us to improve ourselves. Trying to play an arpeggio well at 180 bpm is not as tangible a goal as playing it well in a piece. Also, I really doubt the advice I've seen every so often about playing the (specific technical difficulty) at a slow speed with a metronome, and then notching it up a few clicks once you get it right at a specific tempo. I agree that slow practice is one of the most important things on the piano. However, I don't find myself agreeing with the "notch it up a few clicks" part.

Again, I found that improvising utilizing a specific technique often produced great results. It made the techniques very intuitive. For two months, I went to piano classes, where they placed a huge emphasis on technical exercises, and "strengthening the fingers". It was very frustrating. Later on, when I got back to improvising, my technique improved much faster.

[vaniii]

This was what I was referring to. 

Wouldn't it be less tedious to practice in this way, if possible? Basically, what I'm thinking is this:

It is near impossible to play scales attentively for a long period of time. After a time, you would be going "through the motions", instead of listening critically. This would lead to a loss of productivity. Instead, if you try to improvise using the technique, you would be both hearing it in context, thus getting a better intuitive grasp of it, as well as playing "mindfully", in a much more concentrated fashion. Of course, this should not be right at the beginning, but rather after "getting the hang" of the technique.

I agree with you. However, I think, after say 20-25 consecutive repetitions of the same thing, the law of diminishing returns sets in. You could go on for hours playing the same thing without any discernible improvement.

Moreover, trying to use the technique to achieve a musically satisfying result often pushes us to improve ourselves. Trying to play an arpeggio well at 180 bpm is not as tangible a goal as playing it well in a piece. Also, I really doubt the advice I've seen every so often about playing the (specific technical difficulty) at a slow speed with a metronome, and then notching it up a few clicks once you get it right at a specific tempo. I agree that slow practice is one of the most important things on the piano. However, I don't find myself agreeing with the "notch it up a few clicks" part.

Again, I found that improvising utilizing a specific technique often produced great results. It made the techniques very intuitive. For two months, I went to piano classes, where they placed a huge emphasis on technical exercises, and "strengthening the fingers". It was very frustrating. Later on, when I got back to improvising, my technique improved much faster.

Slow practise is for understanding not application.

Once you understand it you will feel confident.

Confidence, means an increase speed and the ability to apply it.

[anamnesis]

Abby Whiteside was known to use improvisation in her teaching approach; although, her focus on improvisation had more to do with phase rhythm and overall form rather than particular keyboard patterns.  

Here are some relevant excerpts from her book on that topic:

Along with using this method of transferring sensation, use improvisation. If there is insufficient talent to improvise a tune with its harmonies, use rhythmic patterns with a repeated tone. Improvising cannot start unless some idea is formulated. The fact that an idea takes place will mean a going forward to its conclusion. It is this starting with a definite purpose of fulfilling, completing the idea, which produces action that does not sag and fall apart. It is like the stride of a person bent on getting to a destination-not like the person loafing in the park.

The talented person who loves to improvise and does it expertly does not necessarily play the classics with the same kind of delightful rhythmic flow. The improvising uses ears and rhythm as a fused unit. The eye, reading, or habits of practice can and frequently do interfere with this fusion of ear and rhythm, and the result in playing is a lack of rhythmic progression which distorts dynamics and creates a performance without any of the charm which was a part of the improvising. For these same talented people, a conscious use of the sensation of the rhythmic follow-through in their improvising can be productive, for all their other playing, of startlingly better results. Each person will use the means which work most easily and efficiently. It is the result and not the means that matters. To capture that feeling of rhythmic grace and hold onto it and use it in learning the literature of the piano makes for an approach in learning which not only does away with unmusical practice but creates amazing results in beauty and facility. Technical problems will succumb when a simple rhythmic pattern is superimposed upon them-problems that hours of routine drill cannot dislodge.

-----

In the midst of a lesson I suddenly learned how to teach the trill in double thirds (the opening of Chopin Etude, Op. 25, No. 6). I had never been satisfied with previous results. This day, after the pupil played a little Schubert Waltz, I asked her to improvise something in three-quarter time and to use four fingers of the right hand in a repeated action, then to open the four fingers into a double-note trill. Afterwards, we started to improvise again in the same meter and, without interruption, shifted to alla breve and, thus, to the opening of the Etude, and this worked. This emphasizes that mastering a difficult pattern is best done by doing something quite different from the actual pattern which produces the difficulty. One must first find some pattern which permits a rhythm to have its way easily; after that, one attempts to transfer the sensation of an easy, lilting rhythm into the pattern one is trying to solve.


---

The application of this fact to teaching can be illustrated  from personal experience. A former pupil of mine, a well-known popular composer and conductor, returns every now and then. He wants to check up on his problem of listening to too many tones, thereby allowing the rhythm of form to become insufficiently compelling to create the proper balance between a fully coordinated body and the aural image. At one of these check-ups I asked him to improvise a mazurka and then read a Chopin Mazurka. He understood that the goal was to carry over into playing from the printed page the physical rhythm inherent in improvisation. His improvised mazurka was completely sensitive, rhythmic, and delightful. His Chopin Mazurka did not have these qualities. Twice he failed to make a successful transition from the improvising to reading. The third time he was successful, and the result was a completely delightful performance of the Chopin Mazurka. Then, looking a bit puzzled, he said: "But you know it went so fast I didn't hear it." In other words, the first two times the printed page caused him to listen for the pitch of each note symbol for tone. His body was forced to attend to the playing of each tone, and the rhythm of the musical idea as a whole was not expressed. The result was an unmusical performance. When the form-rhythm was maintained as it was in the improvisation the music almost seemed to play itself. There were no interruptions, time lags, or any of the other snags that beset the performer who is conditioned to notewise listening.

In an improvisation you have an idea to complete, and you play ahead towards the completion of phrases and of combinations of phrases. In reading someone else's music you tend to concentrate on written notes rather than on complete ideas. The pitch of individual notes becomes so important in the mind that the ear seeks for particular tones. Often the tone that is so emphasized is not the proper one to make the phrase in which it occurs sound sensitive and well balanced. The pupil should be helped to play with physical directness, as direct as a glissando. Continuity in the use of the power that is tone producing, that flows through like a rhythmic current underneath the separate movements, is all-important.

[j_tour]

This is a coincidence -- I recently searched this site for ideas on improvising in "classical music" (I mean baroque and classical improvisation, basically), with the idea of asking a question here, but I decided that the quality of information on "the internet" concerning improvising in historical styles is pretty poor.

I can tell you that improvising in, say, jazz idiom gives you pretty good speed in all of your RH, and no problem in LH bulk strength, arpeggios, and leaps, but you'll have to start from scratch with technique if you ever want to learn perfect HT passages. 

Fortunately, for the jazz improviser, it comes full circle, since you get the carrot of being able to execute some of Bill Evans-style HT bits whenever it becomes necessary.

[ted]

With me it is the other way around, I acquire technique so I am able to get the ideas out during improvisation. As I have posted several times here, a few minutes a day on my Virgil Practice Clavier seems to maintain all the movements I am likely to need for this. As I have little interest in classical music, concerts or jazz, I conjecture that my improvisation does, in fact, also support my technique, although I have never consciously directed it solely to that end. I do invent my own exercises on the silent clavier though if that counts, and I have occasionally helped people use improvisation for technique with recordings and videos.

[dcstudio]

With me it is the other way around, I acquire technique so I am able to get the ideas out during improvisation. As I have posted several times here, a few minutes a day on my Virgil Practice Clavier seems to maintain all the movements I am likely to need for this. As I have little interest in classical music, concerts or jazz, I conjecture that my improvisation does, in fact, also support my technique, although I have never consciously directed it solely to that end. I do invent my own exercises on the silent clavier though if that counts, and I have occasionally helped people use improvisation for technique with recordings and videos.

I would have to agree. I acquired the technique that allowed me to improvise through my classical training. When I went to university and studied jazz improv there was a lot I was able to do simply because I had the technique for it.  In fact, the more technical exercises I did, the more my improv grew and the easier it was to do.

[ted]

I would have to agree. I acquired the technique that allowed me to improvise through my classical training. When I went to university and studied jazz improv there was a lot I was able to do simply because I had the technique for it.  In fact, the more technical exercises I did, the more my improv grew and the easier it was to do.

That's right. Technique can also generate ideas of itself  too. For instance, through technical discipline, you might develop a facility in rapid double notes of various kinds. Then you find the ability enables you to play a greatly expanded range of voicings during improvisation thereby augmenting musical vocabulary. In fact, everything in creative piano playing seems to nurture everything else over the years; nothing less does the trick.

[ronde_des_sylphes]

I think there's a kind of symbiosis between technique and improvisation. I did a lot of groundwork through standard arpeggios and scales when young but through regular improvisation I have greatly enhanced that groundwork. My figuration work is considerably more fluid now - and I've not done conventional exercises in maybe 20 years but have improvised extensively, often incorporating figuration work on the fly - than it was at the point where technical exercises predominated over improvisation.