Great Pianists on Piano Playing / Study Talks with Foremost Virtuosos. A Series of Personal Educational Conferences with Renowned Masters of the Keyboard, Presenting the Most Modern Ideas upon the Subjects of Technic, Interpretation, Style and Expression

by James Francis Cooke

Avoid Machine-like Playing

There is a certain "something" which defines the individuality of the player, and it seems well nigh impossible to say just what this something is. Let us by all means preserve it. Imagine the future of music if every piece were to be played in the selfsame way by every player like a series of ordinary piano playing machines. The remarkable apparatus for recording the playing of virtuosos, and then reproducing it through a mechanical contrivance, is somewhat of a revelation to the pianist who tries it for the first time. In the records of the playing of artists whose interpretations are perfectly familiar to me, there still remain unquestioned marks of individuality. Sometimes these marks are small shortcomings, but which, nevertheless, are so slight that they do no more than give character. Look at a painting by Van Dyke, and then at one upon a similar subject by Rembrandt, and you will realize how these little characteristics influence the whole outward aspect of an art work. Both Van Dyke and Rembrandt were Dutchmen, and, in a sense, contemporaries. They used pigments and brushes, canvas and oil, yet the masterpieces of each are readily distinguishable by any one slightly familiar with their styles. It is precisely the same with pianists. All of us have arms, fingers, muscles and nerves, but what we have to say upon the keyboard should be an expression of our own minds, not a replica of some stereotyped model.

When I listened to the first record of my own playing, I heard things which seemed unbelievable to me. Was I, after years of public playing, actually making mistakes that I would be the first to condemn in any one of my own pupils? I could hardly believe my ears, and yet the unrelenting machine showed that in some places I had failed to play both hands exactly together, and had been guilty of other errors no less heinous, because they were trifling. I also learned in listening to my own playing, as reproduced, that I had unconsciously brought out certain nuances, emphasized different voices and employed special accents without the consciousness of having done so. Altogether it made a most interesting study for me, and it became very clear that the personality of the artist must permeate everything that he does. When his technic is sufficiently great it permits him to speak with fluency and self-expression, enhancing the value of his work a thousandfold.