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While others headed to the grander country house operas at Grange Park or Glyndebourne, we drove from the very bottom of south-west Dorset to south Somerset for an evening of music and words at Wyke House, an attractive Georgian farmhouse set in 7 acres of grounds in the village of Wyke Champflower, near Bruton.

Wyke House

A narrow winding lane dotted with helpful hand-painted signs directing us to “Opera” led to a couple of marshalls who directed us to a field to park the car. Crossing the lane, we were met by Poppy, chatelaine of Wyke House and host of the event, who suggested a sunny spot in front of the house where we might like to picnic. A quick ticket check and, glass of complementary fizz and programme in hand, we wended our way down a path mown through the grass to a dingly dell next to a lily pond where the first act would take place. A simple twisted branch arch and straw bales adorned with velvet cushions provided the set; nearby a quartet of musicians were settling in. The audience drifted in, chatting, laughing, some clutching already-opened bottles of Prosecco…. We assembled in this casual auditorium on straw bales, garden seating, picnic chairs….and the performance began.

Purcell’s ‘The Fairy Queen’ isn’t really an opera: this “Restoration spectacular” is an anonymous adaptation of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Purcell’s didn’t actually set any of Shakespeare’s words to music but instead created a series of short masques for each act of the play. In this performance at Wyke House, poems were interspersed with the musical episodes, which in themselves created the sense of a modern masque.

The singers and musicians are all highly respected performers, who work with some of our leading ensembles (the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, Scottish Opera, Glyndebourne Touring Opera, the Dunedin Consort, ENO, Garsington Opera, amongst others), and who specialise in Baroque and Classical repertoire. Performing outdoors can be challenging and a stiff breeze competed with musicians and singers in the first half, adding to the bucolic ambiance of the event. Impressive projection by all four singers ensured that almost every word was audible, and beautifully enunciated. There was also some very impressive ensemble singing between the four of them: the sweet, elegant voices of the two sopranos Amy Carson and Emily Vine melded wonderfully with tenor Thomas Hobbs, whose warm voice was complemented by Timothy Dickinson’s resonant bass.

Amy Carson, soprano
Emily Vine, soprano
Thomas Hobbs, tenor
Timothy Dickinson, bass

A relaxed picnic interval on the lawn followed before we were directed to a different setting for the second part of the evening. Now lanterns and fairy lights garlanded branches of fruit trees, flares lit the path and braziers provided some additional warmth for those who had come without a blanket. Now the wind had dropped, and the smaller size of this pastoral ‘stage’ offered a charming intimacy for more musical and poetic delights.

This was an impressive and hugely enjoyable evening, undoubtedly enhanced not only by the superb performances but also the lovely rural setting and relaxed ambiance. From a practical point of view, it was also extremely well-organised: it was easy to purchase tickets online or on the door on the day, the carparking was easy and there were even proper loos. I know from my conversations with bass Timothy Dickinson that they have performed at Wyke House before and I do hope this becomes a regular venue: it’s a real gem for music and opera lovers in the west of England and is also a valuable platform to showcase performers based in this part of the world and to celebrate the musical talent we have here in the west.

Driving back to south Dorset, the almost-full moon lighting our way for the final part of our journey, we saw a hare, a barn owl and innumerable bats.

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It’s still quite unusual these days to attend a concert where the programme begins with a quiet and/or slow piece. Often performers have a favourite “warm up” piece, one with which they feel very comfortable, which is a helpful way to ease into the main programme, warm up the fingers and settle in for the concert. For some performers, a Prelude and Fugue by Bach, or something similar, is a good opener.

I recently attended a concert where the pianist began his programme (which included Beethoven’s heavenly penultimate piano sonata, the Op 110, and closed with Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue) with two very quiet, very slow sonatas by Scarlatti. It helped that the pianist in question can produce the most poetic sound (at any dynamic) on the piano, but there was something about the intimacy and muted sounds of this music that made for a very concentrated listening experience.

In fact, I think beginning a concert in this way is a stroke of genius as it can create an immediate sense of intimacy and focus. The audience is forced to listen closely and pay attention to the nuances of the music – a very effective way of drawing the audience in and engaging them with the performance, and ensuring their attention for the remainder of the concert. Opening with a quiet piece or pieces can also create a sense of anticipation and expectation: the audience may be more likely to be attentive and engaged if they are waiting for something to happen. This can be particularly powerful in a concert setting where the audience is large or the venue is imposing, as it can help to create a sense of connection and shared experience.

A quiet piece can be a very effective way of setting the tone for the entire concert and can establish a mood and atmosphere that will carry through the entire concert. This can be especially effective if the quiet piece is followed by more up-tempo or energetic pieces and the contrast can be very effective in creating a dynamic and varied performance. Beginning with a quiet piece can be a bold and unexpected choice, challenging the audience’s expectations and encouraging them to approach the performance with an open mind.

Finally, starting with a quiet piece can be a very effective way of showcasing the performer’s skill. It’s not easy to perform a quiet piece effectively, and is a real demonstration of the performer’s control, sensitivity, and expressiveness. This can be especially powerful if the performer is able to create a sense of intimacy and connection with the audience.

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A personal story by Michael Johnson

When I try to understand my life as a critic in the dazzling world of piano music, I am at a loss. We have inherited so much over 300 years that I feel overwhelmed. There is no obvious focal point. What is at the heart of piano world?

Personally, I could not make it through the day without the stimulation of piano performance. My home resounds with keyboards all my waking hours, constantly renewed from the thousand-odd CDs I have accumulated.

I know of no legal substance that can alter your mind like music, and it does so without a hangover. My moods are at the mercy of Haydn, Ravel, Debussy and many others.

Sheet music too is floating around the web for reprinting privately at home. I don’t mind that more and more paid subscriptions and other charges cropping up. Performers deserve a good slice of the pie.

To get a grip on this subject, I have opened my personal diary, beginning a typical day with two giants and continuing to bedtime with lullabies. Taken together, these choices demonstrate the power of the piano.

EARLY MORNING – My morning never starts until I flip on the CD player and rearrange the five discs it rotates. I need Bach and Mozart and a bit of Galuppi for chasing the cobwebs from my brain. Specifically, I probably put on Glenn Gould’s Goldberg Variations (1981 version) and Mozart’s wonderfully inventive piano sonatas played by Mitsuko Uchida. Galuppi’s sonata in C major, of course. Next, to lighten the atmosphere, I like to have 15 minutes of Erik Satie.

STARTING TO WORK – I spend most days writing and painting, with great music in the background to encourage the creative process. The trick is to find the right volume so it tweaks your nervous system but does not mess up your concentration. As I write this, Brahms’ Scherzo in E-flat minor Op. 4, quietly played by William Grant Naboré, is the best medicine I can find.

William Grant Naboré, a drawing by the author, Michael Johnson

FIRST COFFEE BREAK – Now I can turn up the volume and change my perspective with Prokofiev’s piano sonatas, preferably played by Murray McLachlan. It’s stirring music, dissonant, wild and avant-garde for the 1930s but a particularly shocking chord always catches my attention. At one point Sergei calls for the player to hit the keyboard “con pugno” (with fist). This is a cluster chord, a percussive whack on the piano that can be found scattered throughout the 20th century repertoire, notably in Charles Ives and bits of Sorabji, Messiaen, Louvier, Xenakis, Ligeti, and yes even Stockhausen. Someone has written that Prokofiev used it to frighten “the old ladies of both sexes” in the audience.

BACK TO WORK – Turning the volume down to moderately quiet, the I race through Franz Liszt’s La Campanella Grande Etude (Paganini) or Gnomenreigen, both melodic wonders and sunny virtuoso exercises. Thank you, Franz, for making me want to dance as I work. These pieces have defeated numerous pianists over the years but dozens of fine recordings are out there. Take your pick. As a listener, I know them by heart and hum along as they spin.

REVISIONS –At this point I look back, sometimes appalled, at my morning’s output, and attack it again. For this, I depend on the aggressive stimulation of Scriabin, ranging from his early Chopin derivatives to his later ground-breaking ideas. Recordings worth a visit are Ashkenazy, Berman, and Hamelin. I finish in a sweat, either from the music or my revisions, I’m never sure which.

LUNCHTIME RECITAL – I allow myself the freedom to wander around 300 years of music in small samples, creating my own DIY piano recital. Keeping the volume at medium so as not to annoy my wife, I go through some of Bach’s 1722 shimmering masterpiece Well-Tempered Clavier played by Sviatoslav Richter, to another collection of preludes and fugues by Rodion Shchedrin, to Messiaen’s solo piano, beginning with La Colombe (The Dove) which juxtaposes the dissonant and the consonant. And finally, as a dessert, the frightening Cziffra arrangement of “Flight of the Bumblebee” played by Georgy himself.

AFTERNOON – Following my relaxed and musical lunch, nothing gets me back to work like Rachmaninov’s little gem, the Prelude Op.23 No.5 in G-minor. My player here is one I am grateful to – the willowy Belgian-Russian Irina Lankova, a product of the great Gnessin School in Moscow and now a happy expat. She brings a driving momentum to the work, exactly what Rachmaninov desired. The piece leaves you panting for more but it ends peacefully at 3:43.

To complete my afternoon I will put on Schubert’s monumental sonata in C-minor, with its contrasting darks and lights, played Brendel. As Andras Schiff writes in his new book “Music Comes Out of Silence”, he knows where to expect “the proverbial goose pimples” in Schubert, and at the end of the first movement in the C-minor is a passage that reverberates in a different way – “terrifying me in the true sense of the word.” But he survives, and plays it to perfection.

TWILIGHT – I need some fun after a demanding day. One has to smile a bit, and Grieg’s “Wedding Day at Troldhaugen” provides it – a celebratory Norwegian dance number full of Peer Gynt allusions and Norwegian folklore, played with bouncing good humour by Garrick Ohlsson. Completing the day’s adventures is Chopin’s Berceuse in E-flat major, a quiet piece guaranteed to bring your mind back to total calm.

DINNER – In background as the table groans under a full French evening meal, I need some pep and vigour, and I find it in the Spanish themes of Enrique Granados delightfully played by French pianist Jean-Francois Dichamp. His CD programme marries Granados with Scarlatti, a pairing that came to him in an inspiration while on a solitary evening stroll in summertime Barcelona. He plays them alternately in recitals, convinced that the audience hears a piece differently when compared to the work that precedes it.

LIGHTS OUT – One of my favourite compositions in the repertoire is floating, lilting “Au Lac de Wallenstadt” performed by Wilhelm Kempf. I listen to it over and over with increasing emotion. It seems conceived for snuggling or sleeping or both. Still awake? Turn to Morton Feldman‘s Palais de Mari or all of Bertrand Chamayou CD “Good Night”.

It is with humility that I have made the piano a large part of my life, enriching and stimulating myself, and (as with Cziffra) amazing me.

Michael Johnson is a music critic with particular interest in piano. 

Johnson worked as a reporter and editor in New York, Moscow, Paris and London over his journalism career. He covered European technology for Business Week for five years, and served nine years as chief editor of International Management magazine and was chief editor of the French technology weekly 01 Informatique. He also spent four years as Moscow correspondent of The Associated Press. He is the author of five books.

Michael Johnson is based in Bordeaux.

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When is the right time to start teaching piano technique?

Renowned pianist and pedagogue Penelope Roskell believes that technique should be taught from the start and her new series of books aimed at children turn learning technique into an enjoyable and stimulating series of exercises, games/quizzes and imaginative original pieces.

Author of the award-winning The Complete Pianist, Penelope Roskell is recognised as a leading exponent of healthy piano technique which leads to “natural artistry and a lifetime of pleasure at the piano”. In her new trio of books for children, from the outset Penelope aims to encourage these early piano students to explore the keyboard as widely as possible: the first volume is called ‘Hop, Skip and Jump’ (by contrast, many beginner tutor books tend to start in the Middle C position, which can be very limiting). Through a series of fun exercises and short pieces and songs composed by Aaron Burrows and Carl Heap, accompanied by delightful illustrations by Eilidh Muldoon, the student is introduced to techniques such as lateral movement, playing staccato, hand positions, playing sustained notes, legato and more – all aspects of technique which are, or should be very familiar to the advanced pianist. The final volume, ‘Leaping Ahead’, builds on the techniques learnt in the previous two books, while also introducing new challenges, including playing hands together, chords and broken chords, leaps, slurs, chromatic scales, two-octaves scales, fingering and rotation.

As the introduction to the books makes clear, these are technique books, not method books, and as such can be used alongside the teacher’s favoured method books or personal teaching approach to ensure technique is taught in an enjoyable and stimulating way.

In addition to the exercises and pieces, each book includes teaching endnotes, complete with a video demonstrations which can be accessed via a QR code or by visiting https://www.editionpeters.com/essentialpianotechnique1. Learning Objectives and Teaching Tips are concise and informative.

Drawing on the best current pedagogical practice, the books use imagery and gesture to develop ‘piano technique’ in the broadest sense of the term, and remind both teacher and student that technique should always serve the music, rather than be taught and studied in isolation. Thus, this approach ensures the young pianist is equipped with all the necessary skills to play with both technical assurance, confidence and artistry, without tension and with a rich palette of sounds.

Having studied myself with Penelope Roskell for six years (the first few months of which were a crash course in all the technique I was not taught when having piano lessons as a child and teenager), at a time when I was myself teaching piano to young and early students (children and adults), I can attest to the value and ease of her approach to piano technique. She would often demonstrate something to me and then suggest I try it with my own students, using appealing imagery and gestures, and I quickly realised that learning and teaching technique need not be complicated – in fact, it is very simple and I believe the approach laid out in these new books can be easily adapted for older students and even adult learners.

Following the success and acclaim of The Complete Pianist, Penelope Roskell continues to make a vital contribution to piano pedagogy. These new books lay the crucial foundations for a lifetime of secure technique coupled with immense pleasure at the piano and are an excellent addition to piano teaching literature. I cannot recommend them too highly.

Essential Piano Technique (Primer A, Primer B & Level 1) by Penelope Roskell is published by Edition Peters