Hello, everyone. I’m new to these forums but have been lurking for quite a while, absorbing the amazing wealth of information that is available here. For the past two years I have been studying with a piano teacher that is both incredibly intense and incredibly addicted to teaching piano in the way he was taught, that is, the method of the old German school. Therefore I have been doing Hanon and Pischna in all major keys for about 30 to 45 minutes every day for the past two years of my piano education.
And I’ve improved.
And I had never been really required to play Hanon and Pischna before two years ago. Naturally, therefore, I drew the conclusion that it was to Hanon and Pischna that I owed my progress.
In one week I am graduating from Interlochen Arts Academy and heading to University of Southern California as a music composition major. This means I have one more lesson with my current teacher. The closeness of freedom from the thankless rigidity of daily technical exercises is upon me, and it is only due to this fact that I have just recently realized the true worthlessness of Hanon and Pischna and all other exercises that are purely finger-movers.
I’ll start by taking a metaphor that is Bernhard’s. Learning Hanon in all keys, starting with #1 and going through the whole book, is like opening Merriam Webster’s Third New International Dictionary at page 1 and reading the words and expecting your writing ability to improve. However, as I will demonstrate later, this dictionary is full of wrong definitions and many crucial words are not even there.
The notion is that practicing Hanon increases your “overall” skill as a pianist. That is to say, when I practice 45 minutes of Hanon, the quality of my technique on all the repertoire that I’m playing at the moment, along with all the repertoire that I will ever play should raise ever so slightly, one tiny notch. Therefore, if I do Hanon 45 minutes every day, lots of little notches add up to a sizable improvement on all of my repertoire. So they say.
Well, first off, I know this not to be true from personal experience. I performed a solo recital this past Sunday in which one of the pieces was Beethoven’s Pathetique sonata. I had been working on that piece since last August, so by the time of the recital I really felt I had a more-than-fleeting grasp on the piece. Now, if I’m practicing Hanon faithfully every day and progressing at a more or less even rate, my rate of improvement of the Pathetique should be linear, right? Well, it was not. In fact (and this is crucial) the progress I made on the Pathetique was in leaps and bounds and those leaps and bounds only occurred when I sat down and practiced the actual technical difficulties present in the Beethoven. Needless to say, I feel like I’ve wasted an enormous quantity of time this year on Hanon.
When there is no musical background to a technical exercise, the hand memory that you might have gained is forgotten almost instantly, for memory is based on associations. Allow me for a moment to define music as a balance between stasis and change. Sometimes different elements are changing and sometimes they are not. (This is of course one of a million definitions for music, and it gets incredibly complicated when you start discussing moment form and other modern ideas, but this works for the moment.) If music is a balance between stasis and change, we must learn to train our minds (and fingers, if you like) to deal with that balance. However, Hanon is only teaching fingers and brains a static state of playing. You lock your brain into the shape and configuration of the exercise (and in my case, the key) and you start and you turn your brain off. You can, because it’s static. Why focus on something that’s unchanging? You can afford to turn your brain off. It will still be the same when you turn your brain back on, so there are no worries. And you do that when you get to the top of the octave: you focus just enough to negotiate the “turn” halfway through the exercise, and to get your fingers moving the right way heading back down. Then you turn your brain off again. This is incredibly detrimental to good playing of music. Music is anything but static: it engages you entirely, both physically and mentally. Playing Hanon leads you to the conclusion that music can be a brain-off activity if you want it to be.
I might also apply the principle of direct variation. Perhaps you remember from your studies of mathematics the principle of direct variation.
x=Cy
C is some constant, and x and y are variables. In order for this equation to stay balanced, if x is raised, then y must be raised, too. (Remember, we’re not changing C.) Now, with the principles behind doing finger exercises each day in mind, let us consider x to be how well we perform Hanon and y to be how well we perform repertoire. According to direct variation, if my x is greater than someone else’s, my y will be much greater as well. I can tell you from multiple personal experiences that this is simply not true. I can fly through the fifteen Hanons in all keys, QN = 138, yet I have an Asian friend that has only ever really practiced them marginally and in C major at a much slower tempo, and she can whip my butt with pieces like Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme of Corelli and Barber’s Piano Sonata Op 26. I’m sure you can provide some of your own examples as teachers and pianists of students who play Hanon incredibly well but can’t play repertoire worth listening to, and other students who have hardly touched the book and yet are fine pianists.
Additionally, Hanon is not only unhelpful for learning finger technique but by playing it hands-together as notated it is detrimental to the independence of the hands. Underneath exercise #1 Hanon states:
“This new style of exercise will cause the hands to acquire perfect equality.”
No, it won’t. Having both hands play together always allows one hand to be “lazy”, to be the “follower”, and in this case it is usually the left hand. The exercises are fundamentally flawed in this way, because where the LH becomes difficult the RH becomes too easy and therefore the LH can “mooch off” the right hand, never learning how to independently play the technical difficulties without the aural and kinesthetic help of the engagement of the right hand.
Shall I keep going?
Hanon is a liar. Not a liar in the abstract sense but a liar in a quantifiably provable way. Have a look again below the first exercise:
“…the difficulties executed by the left hand in ascending, are exactly copied by the same fingers of the right hand in descending;…”
Aside from containing an unnecessary comma, this statement is, simply put, false. Open your Hanon to exercise 4 and look at the technical problem presented in the first beat of the left hand. Now compare that to the first beat of the right hand descending. These two figures are not the same. Therefore the difficulties are not “exactly copied” in ascending vs. descending; take a look through the exercises for yourself and you will find that sometimes what each hand is doing in ascending vs. descending is profoundly different.
(Note: Theoretically I know why Hanon did this: an exact copying would have created a series of 6-4 chords – i.e., second inversion – which would have been a most unpleasing sound in his time. But these are finger exercises, not music.)
Finally, people seem to believe, as Hanon suggests in his preface, that these exercises will somehow help with this concept of “independence of the fingers.” My proposition is this: if you are having finger independence problems – for example, two fingers in a run hit at the same time when they were supposed to be separate notes, or you can’t keep certain fingers down while others play – they have nothing to do with not having enough muscles in your hands and fingers. (I want to put both “enough” and “muscles” in quotations in that sentence – “enough” because the amount of muscle in a person’s hand and arm is plenty to play all repertoire by about the age of 8, and “muscles” because our fingers have no muscles in them anyway.) Instead, the finger independence is a brain issue. It has to do with understanding the musical concept of separate voices in your piece and knowing when to engage which muscles at what time and relaxing the rest of them.
And thus Pischna comes in. My teacher “prescribed” me number 9, which has the left hand holding down fingers 1, 2, and 5 while 3 and 4 alternate back and forth, not just for a little while but for the entire duration of the exercise. This is ridiculous! Once I know how to perform a few repetitions of this finger independence idea, it is clear that I have sufficiently wrapped my brain around the idea. Practicing the same thing over and over again until my fingers BURN (which my teacher actually told me to do) will do nothing to further improve my finger independence in this area, and will actually probably lead me to injury. Thank God I only have to deal with this for one more week.
If studying Hanon is like reading the dictionary from start to finish, then studying Pischna is like taking all possible combinations of letters in the English language, throwing them together, not caring whether or not they make words, and supposing that the words must be in there somewhere and somehow you’ll absorb them. The complete thoughtlessness that went into these exercises is evident. Take number 10 for example. Looking at it, Pischna’s thought process probably went something like this.
1) I want to make an exercise that practices crossing the thumb under the fourth finger.
2) Let’s base it off of a do – re – mi – fa – so – fa – mi – re – do pattern and go up and back down similar to Hanon #1.
3) I’ll have the students hold down their thumb every time the other fingers cross over. Never mind that I can’t find an instance in all the repertoire that demands this movement.
4) So that I can also continue to work on the muscles in the fingers of all my students, how’s about I put it in triplets and have every third note accented? Yeah, that’s a good idea!
5) Oops, I forgot! This exercise only deals with the white keys. Crap. (Pischna then proceeds to scribble in “In all keys” at the end of the exercise.)
I’ll leave the picking apart of each of these points to you, as this post is already a monster. Suffice it to say that in trying to learn this exercise my fingers rebelled against me every step of the way. They knew that there was a better and MUCH easier way to hit these notes and that crossing over and holding the thumb was an incredible waste of energy. But I forced them to do it anyway, knowing that the iron fist of my teacher would be upon me in one week’s time.
I of course welcome any comments and criticisms in response to this gargantuan post. I hope that these thoughts can add to the body of knowledge that has already been amassed here at the Piano Forum.