Skip to main content

Dynamic Percentages

I'm watching a Tonebase crash course on dynamics, and the instructor, Dr. Leann Osterkamp He, talks about assigning dynamics percentages to each note in a piece. You begin by determining what volume (i.e., how much weight on the keys) will be your "50%" dynamic. Essentially, this would be the half-way point between what you expect to be your loudest and your softest notes in the piece. From there, you assign each note the percentage dynamic that you want to give it when you play.

I have never thought about dynamics and phrasing in this kind of detail! Phrasing was just always what felt right ... but could I guarantee that I would use the same phrasing every time I played something, or anything close to the same phrasing? No. I mean, it would be similar, but I've never played with a number in mind of, "When I play this note, I want it to be at this weight of my arm."

I'm traveling this weekend and don't have access to a real (or even a digital) piano, so I won't be able to practice at all until Saturday night. Waaaah. But what I can do is listen to other pianists playing my Chopin Nocturne, and get a sense of what percentages they are using.

I did this for about a half-hour on the drive to North Carolina this morning, and it was enlightening, to say the least. I can't say for sure, but it sounded like some of the pianists had a clear sense of where their phrasings and dynamics were going, where others had less of a clear sense.

I brought my old Chopin book, so I think I'm going to run a couple of copies of the first dozen or so measures and write percentages for several different recordings. It's so interesting, and educational, to see the various choices that the different pianists made. Here's a bit of what I wrote for Rubinstein. It took a while, so I'm rethinking the plan of doing this for multiple recordings!



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Rethinking Bare Necessities

Today's breakthrough moment (there are actually two of them) focuses on "Bare Necessities." As you'll remember, I discovered Jonny May's arrangement back in early March and immediately decided to learn it. I printed out the music, started the course, and proceeded to learn the stride section, posting a few videos of my progress. Ha. I bet those videos make it look like I was making progress. I guess I was ... but not really. And I realized something this weekend that I hadn't before: Because I was thinking of "Bare Necessities" as a "fun" piece, I wasn't practicing it seriously or diligently. I wasn't treating it as something I wanted to master. This mindset might work with an easier piece, but this arrangement isn't easy. The result: despite a little progress at the outset, I wasn't moving forward. I was stalled. Breakthrough #1 The first breakthrough was realizing that if I truly want to learn this piece and play it well,

Maple Leaf Rag Breakthrough

Oh, Maple Leaf. Where to begin? At the Beginning I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I learned the A and B sections of Maple Leaf Rag back in the 1990s. I can’t tell you if it was early, mid- or late 90s, but it was during those 10 years after I’d graduated college, when I was playing a good bit of piano but not taking regular lessons from anyone. I don’t remember teaching it to myself at all. I just know that, at some point, the first half of Maple Leaf Rag was part of my two- or three-song repertoire of pieces I’d be able to play by memory over the next 25 years. It was always sloppy and I knew it, but people loved it, and so I played it if there was ever a piano around. Back in January, I decided to properly re-learn those two sections, and to finally learn the C and D sections of this wonderful piece. I worked on these over the next month or two, learning (and-relearning) the notes pretty quickly ... but it took time to memorize, and also to get everything to tempo surpassing a

The Rusty Lock and Key

I'm in a room. There's a door in front of me. On the other side of that door is a whole world of adventure and imagination and joy and delight, but for the moment, I'm locked in this gray little room. The door itself has a lock that is all rusted. I've tried to open it in the past, but I've never gotten very far. Sometimes I try to scrape the rust off the lock. I also have a rusty old key that I occasionally try to polish. Each time, after I've made a little progress, I'll put it into the keyhole in hopes of opening the door. It turns a half a millimeter or so, but the brief excitement at my progress dies quickly when I realize, once again, it's not going to open the lock. I set the old key aside, and from there I can forget about the door, the lock, and the world outside, for months—years, even. But then something happens—I hear birdsong, or I catch a glimpse of color—and I pick up the key and start picking away at the stubborn rust. That dark little ro