Yesterday, I came across a YouTube video in which the author announced a list of difficult 
opening passages in certain repertoire that scared him. This caught my attention, naturally, as I am of the opinion that passages shouldn't feel intrinsically difficult and one shouldn't be fearful if the technique is completely understood. We all agree, of course, that public performance can be fraught with any number of psychological impediments. But let's not blame the music.
His list of "difficulties" surprised me. First, there was the opening leap in the left hand of Beethoven's Op. 111. He argued against dividing the two octaves
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| Beethoven Sonata Op. 111 |
as being contrary to
the dramatic intent,
though many artists
do just that, Evgeny Kissin and
Maurizio Pollini, for example; Andras Schiff does not. (There is a video of the great Myra Hess missing the leap, her musical intention superseding her technical knowhow.)
I have to say, if he needs a security blanket to start his concert, there's no shame in dividing between the hands. No one will notice or care. Still, if he feels that somehow this dramatic gesture requires the leap without a net, then he should rethink his technical approach along the following lines:
In the video, I greatly exaggerate the rotational gesture, of course. In speed, the hand remains as close to the keys as possible, the fifth finger acting as a hinge.
His next fright is the opening of Beethoven's G-major piano concerto. This, I think, is probably more psychological in nature, as the notes
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| Beethoven fourth piano concerto, opening |
themselves present no outlandish difficulties. But in order to quiet the negative committee that often sits 
on our shoulders, we need a positive approach to just what the musical intention is and how we achieve it. If he wants a singing sound—I'm sure he does—I suggest imagining what it feels like to sink into the outer notes of this four-part chorale-like passage, emphasis on the right hand. I compare this feeling with that of pressing fingers into wet sand, the melody fingers pressing deeper. Think it first. Take a deep breath. The conductor will wait. What is the dynamic shape of the phrase? Does it rise first to the C atop the ii chord, then fall back a bit before rising via a G major scale to a new high point on the D? I mention the obvious because these are the thoughts that pull us back into the music and away from the fearful committee. (John Crown, one of my undergraduate teachers, felt this scale was one of the most difficult in the repertoire. I'll admit, one does feel exposed.)
Alas, poor Beethoven gets blamed yet again for another frightening passage:
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| Beethoven Appassionata |
My correspondent apparently fears this passage because it requires the hand to be "open" while playing fast and furiously, which of course would be uncomfortable and perhaps cause missed notes? Again, a better technical solution is the answer. It is always calming to know how to do a given task. This passage feels quite comfortable, even easy, when the hand is allowed to feel relatively closed by means of forearm rotation rather than made to extend to block a chord. The slurs indicate crucial rotations, although the movement is similar throughout the passage.
Next he tells us of a nightmarish experience involving two false starts as he attempted to play the opening piece in Schumann's "Kreisleriana," which apparently crashed each time.
This is about grouping notes together that move in the same direction. Our correspondent may be enslaved to the notation and forgetting to take his thumb along with his hand, keeping the hand unnecessarily open. Repeat: take your thumb with your hand, don't leave it lagging behind. I've added slurs to indicate the groupings I use. It's easy to remember. Start each group with the thumb and think tiny under shape. (Shaping is discussed elsewhere in these pages.)
Side note: It's possible to follow the articulation Schumann indicates in the score, but in so doing the tempo slows considerably. Is this the composer telling us to move "extremely" so far as possible using this articulation, I wonder? The first edition gives the instruction äusserst bewegt, literally "extremely moved." When the German is replaced with Italian in subsequent editions, this becomes Allegro agitato, fast and restless. You decide.
