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CONTENTS
Preface xxix
Keyboard Posture 2
Body 2
Wrists 2
Hands 2
Fingers 2
Eyes 3
Finger Numbers 4
Contrary Motion 4
Parallel Motion 4
The Keyboard 6
Location of White Keys 6
Registers 6
Using Black-Key Groups to Locate White Keys 7
C-D-E Groups 7
Three-Black-Key Groups 8
F-G-A-B Groups 9
Playing by Touch 10
Playing by Ear 10
Improvisation: Pentatonic
(Black-Key) Scale 10
Accompaniments 11
Contents |vii
Reading Notes 22
The Staff and Clefs 22
The Grand Staff 22
Naming and Playing Treble and Bass Clef Notes 24
Naming Notes and Playing Melody Patterns 24
Intervals 25
Melodic Intervals 25
Harmonic Intervals 26
Interval Studies 26
Keeping Time 27
Meter Signatures 27
Playing Five-Finger Melodies Using
the Right Hand 27
Playing Five-Finger Melodies Using
the Left Hand 29
Rhythmic Studies 33
Sakura Sunrise 34
Worksheet Review 35
Notation Symbols
Whole Rest 41
A Jazz Waltz (Phillip Keveren) 41
Tie 42
Measure Numbers 42
viii| Contents
Drone Bass
Highlander Tune 56
French Canadian Round 57
Major Five-Finger Pattern Improvisation
Using a Drone Bass Accompaniment 58
Classic Miniatures 59
The Contest (Cornelius Gurlitt) 59
Two Etudes (Ferdinand Byer) 60
Repertoire 60
Surfing (Lee Evans) 61
Harmonization 62
Improvisation 65
Dorian Mode Improvisation 65
Dorian Accompaniment (Ken Iversen) 65
12-Bar Blues Improvisation 66
Start of the Blues 66
Movin’ on the White Key Blues 67
Improvisation with New Notations
and Techniques 67
It’s Up to You 68
Taking A Chance 69
Sightreading Studies 70
Adding Drone Bass Accompaniments 70
Treble Clef Melodies for the Right Hand 70
Bass Clef Melodies for the Left Hand 71
Five-Finger Pattern Studies in Major Keys 71
Rhythmic Studies 73
Technical Studies 75
Contents |ix
Worksheet Review 85
Score Reading 89
Tempo Markings 89
More Dynamic Markings 89
Breezes Are Blowing (Luiseño Indian
Rain Chant) 90
Melody Study (Béla Bartók) 91
Accidentals 91
Persian Scene 92
Sahara 93
Monday Blues 94
Dotted Quarter Notes 95
Fiesta Time 96
Repertoire 97
Shoestring Boogie 97
Damper Pedal 98
Evening Tide 99
Upbeat and Downbeat 100
On the Town (Ken Iversen) 100
Slurs 101
Casey Jones (American) 102
Ole! 103
Parallel Motion 104
Stompin! 104
68 Time
68
Two Studies in Time
105
107
Allegretto ( Anton Diabelli) 107
Flemish Folk Song 108
x| Contents
Change of Dynamics
A Sonata Theme (Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart) 114
Reading Study in E Major 115
Follow Me 116
Wheels 117
Contrary Motion
Calypso Beat 118
Mysterious Corridors 119
Classic Miniatures
Minuet
( Alexander Reinagle) 120
Melody (Louis Köhler) 120
Repertoire
Etude in D (Ferdinand Beyer) 121
Improvisation 122
Heart of Space 122
Ensembles 133
Student-Teacher Ensemble Pieces 133
Razzle Dazzle (Lee Evans) 133
Merry-Go-Round ( Arthur Foote) 135
Student Ensemble Pieces 137
Spring ( Antonio Vivaldi) 137
Folk Song (French) 139
Contents |xi
Repertoire 165
Moonlit Sea (Phillip Keveren) 165
Improvisation 166
Ensembles 172
Student-Teacher Ensemble Pieces 172
La Cinquantine (Gabriel Marie) 172
Prelude
(Heinrich Wohlfahrt) 175
xii| Contents
Block-Chord Accompaniment
with I and V 56 190
Austrian Folk Song 191
♭
Chilean Folksong 193
Studies in E Major 194
♭
English Folk Song 195
Etudes in A Major 196
German Folk Song 197
Repertoire 201
Vivace
(Cornelius Gurlitt) 201
Improvisation 202
Pentatonic Improvisation 202
Japanese Gardens 203
Little River Call 204
Sapporo Sunset 205
Contents |xiii
Ensembles
Student-Teacher Ensemble Pieces 212
Waltz (Heinrich Wohlfahrt) 212
Joyful Day (Joseph Löw) 214
Student Ensemble Pieces 216
Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes (English) 216
Amazing Grace (traditional) 217
Cadences 226
Authentic Cadence 226
Plagal Cadence 226
♭
Exploring D Major 234
Two Studies 234
Gentle Rain 235
Melody from Op. 39 (Dmitri Kabalevsky) 236
♭
Exploring B Major 237
Calisthenic Studies 237
This Land Is Your Land (Woody Guthrie) 238
xiv| Contents
Repertoire 252
A Little Joke (Dmitri Kabalevsky) 252
Improvisation 253
12-Bar Blues 253
12-Bar Blues Pattern 253
Starting the Blues 253
Walkin’ Through Blues 255
Blue Note 255
Blue-Note Blues 256
Blues Beat 257
Rockin’ Blues 258
I–IV–V Chords in All Major Keys 259
Contents |xv
UNIT 7 MAJOR SCALES AND EASY PIECES WITH BLOCK-CHORD ACCOMPANIMENTS 279
xvi| Contents
Repertoire 315
German Dance (Ludwig van Beethoven) 315
Improvisation 316
Pentatonic Improvisation 316
Bagpiper’s Strut 317
Ensembles 327
Student-Teacher Ensemble Pieces 327
Sunset (Dennis Alexander) 327
Calico Rag (Dennis Alexander) 329
Student Ensemble Pieces 331
Lullaby (Louis Köhler) 331
She’ ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain 332
Contents |xvii
Syncopation 350
Etudes in Syncopated Rhythm 350
Apple Street Rag 351
The Entertainer (Scott Joplin) 352
Repertoire 362
Écossaise in C Major (Franz Schubert) 362
Improvisation 363
Pentatonic Improvisation 363
Goin’ West 364
Tango Improvisation 365
Tango Dream (Jeff Kowalkowski) 365
Ensembles 372
Student-Teacher Ensemble Pieces 372
xviii| Contents
UNIT 9 SECONDARY CHORDS AND CHORD INVERSIONS OF TRIADS AND SEVENTH CHORDS 385
Repertoire 393
Scherzo (from 24 Pieces for Children,
Op. 39, No. 12) (Dmitri Kabalevsky) 393
Repertoire 401
Perpetual Motion (Elyse Mach) 401
Contents |xix
Repertoire 419
Etude (Cornelius Gurlitt) 419
Improvisation 420
12-Bar Blues Improvisation 420
Step Along Blues 420
Scaling the Blues 421
Boogie-Woogie Blues 422
Ostinato Accompaniment Patterns 424
Over Easy Blues 426
Step Around Blues 427
Blues Scale 428
Up and Down Blues 428
Conversational Blues 429
xx| Contents
Repertoire 474
Etude in A Minor (Cornelius Gurlitt) 474
Contents |xxi
Repertoire 488
Shepherd Pipes
( Tat’iana Salutrinskaya) 488
Repertoire 493
Chromatizone Rag (Ann Collins) 493
Improvisation 496
Melody Improvisation Using Chord Voices
of a Piece 496
Rocker (Jeff Kowalkowski) 496
Ensembles 508
Student-Teacher Ensemble Pieces 508
xxii| Contents
Jazz 520
Hallelujah! (Martha Mier) 520
Bitonality 524
Pomp ( Vincent Persichetti) 524
Two Tone (Joan Hansen) 526
Atonality 526
Barcarolle (Ross Lee Finney) 527
Repertoire 535
Shades of Blue (Robert Starer) 535
Contents |xxiii
xxiv| Contents
The proud tears were still in the eyes of our mistress, when she
looked all about her swiftly with the features of a hawk. In ringing
tones she cried, “Bring forth the spawn of darkness. We will now
arrange his fate.”
When the Count of Nullepart and myself made to obey this
command, as you will believe, gentle reader, we had grave concern
lest madam should observe the presence of the captive’s ears. And
such was her present humour that I think we did well to have
apprehension of the penalty that might overtake us. Greatly doubtful,
we led forth the Castilian from his durance and brought him into the
room.
The King of Castile entered the presence of his victorious
adversaries with a calm and noble smile. Yet no sooner did his gaze
fall upon the grey-bearded noblemen with halters about their necks
than his eyes drooped, and a great anguish seemed to cloud them.
The relentless eyes of madam were fixed upon her foe.
“Dost thou see them, bloody-minded one?” said she. “These old
bears shall have the fangs drawn out of their chaps so that they shall
bite no more.”
Then, like a veritable sovereign princess, she turned to Sir Richard
Pendragon, to whom all the success of her arms was due.
“Avise us, Sirrah Red Dragon. Avise us in what manner we shall cast
out these several parcels of beastliness that encumber the earth.”
“By our lady!” said the English giant, rubbing the palm of one hand
slowly round that of the other, “if that is not my honest gossip, John
Castilian, I am a poor mad soul! English Richard gives a greeting to
you, John Castilian, a greeting to your most excellent King’s
majesty.”
Upon this speaking, Sir Richard Pendragon was like to crack his
head on the ground with his lowly obeisance.
Although the King of Castile seemed all broken by the disaster that
had overtaken his arms, upon hearing the voice of Sir Richard
Pendragon he looked up and received his mockery with an
unflinching glance.
“Foreign robber,” he said simply, “you have borne yourself as a true
captain. I make you my service. And as the life of myself and the
lives of my honourable friends are forfeit to your cunning I hope that
they may profit you.”
These words, spoken only as a King could deliver them, brought a
sort of whimsical pity to the mocking face of the English barbarian.
“Dost thou remember, John Castilian,” he said, with that softness
which the Count of Nullepart and I knew was wont to accompany his
most ferocious designs, “that summer’s morning a twelvemonth
since, when thou flungest one of a gentle and kindly nurture, a good
mother’s son, into the deepest dungeon of your Spanish palace, and
chained him by the leg, with foul straws for his pillow, and with lean
rats and large beetles for his only familiar company?”
“Yes, foreign robber, I remember it to my sorrow,” said the King of
Castile coldly. “And had I broke you upon the wheel and thrown your
corpse to the dogs a day before my reckoning, I should not now be
mourning for not having done so.”
“John Castilian,” said the Englishman, “you speak in the wise of an
unfortunate famous ancestor of mine own. He was called Sir
Procrastinatus, owing to the unlucky habit of his mind that he
continually put off till the morrow that which he should have done the
day; a habit that in the process of nature grew upon the unlucky
wight in such a measure that upon the last day of his life he failed to
die until after his friends had buried him. Can it be, John Castilian,
that yourself is a victim to a like preoccupancy? For I understand
from madam’s gracious ladyship that your trench hath been dug the
last three days in the kitchen midden.”
“No, no, Sirrah Red Dragon, that is not so,” said madam ruthlessly.
“The spawn of darkness is entitled to no burial. We will hang it upon
a fork on the outer barbican to poison the crows and the vultures and
the unclean fowls of the air.”
“A thousand pardons, ladyship,” said Sir Richard Pendragon. “It
appears I am the victim of a misinformation.”
“Do you avise us, Sirrah Red Dragon, so that the bloody-minded
prince shall begin his dying immediately. But we would have him
take not less than one-and-twenty days to the consummation of it,
for we would have him drain the dregs of the cup he hath prepared
for others.”
It was here, however, that Sir Richard Pendragon began to stroke his
beard. Mad he was, and whimsical, yet beyond all things he had a
mind for affairs. Therefore he was fain to speak aside with the Count
of Nullepart and myself.
“By my troth,” he said, “it would be a happy deliverance of a bad man
if John Castilian was hung on the gate with a spike through his neck.
But grievously do I doubt me of the wisdom of the policy. We are but
three hundred men-at-arms, and Castile is a broad dominion. If we
put out the life of this prince, the queen-mother will gather new
forces and come again to the gate. And honest Dickon is fain to
observe that the old bitch wolf will be found with a longer tooth than
the whelp.”
That this was the voice of wisdom we had no thought to deny.
Therefore it behoved us to spread the light of statecraft before our
mistress. Yet, as you will readily believe, such a task was no light
one. Still, accomplished it must be, although he who would turn a
woman aside from her vengeance may be said to take his life in his
hand.
Sir Richard Pendragon, however, was the last man in the world to
blench before the face of danger. And so, with a most humble civility
that rendered the sinister laughter of his eyes the more formidable,
he addressed the Countess Sylvia.
“Madam,” said he, “was old honest Dickon dreaming o’ nights when
he heard the grace of your ladyship’s nobility declare that he might
command her anything?”
The fair damask cheek of our mistress grew again like that of a
carnation; again were her eyes filled with proud shining.
“You heard aright, Sirrah Red Dragon,” she said softly. “It is my
desire that you command me anything.”
“Then old honest Dickon, a good fellow, kisses your small feet and
makes you a leg, peerless rose of the south, and he asks for the life
of John Castilian.”
The bosom of our mistress heaved rebelliously. Tears of mortified
caprice crept into her eyes. With contempt and bitterness she cast a
glance at the King, who stood in mournful converse with his
ministers. She then confronted her great captain.
“Sirrah Red Dragon,” she said in accents that were choked by a rage
of tears, “do you take the life of the spawn of darkness. Use it as you
will, sirrah. It was you that gave it to me; it is meet that you should
receive it back again. I do not ask upon what pretext you would hold
it; but—but, sirrah,” and her whole form quivered strangely, “I do ask
—I do ask, sirrah, is this the whole of your good pleasure?”
Yet no sooner had she spoke those last unlucky words, and, as it
were, laid bare her proud bosom, than she averted her beautiful
cheeks that were like a scarlet rose, and in the sudden wild rage of
her own weakness, that she whom kings must woo in vain had come
herself to woo, she hid her eyes.
“Nay, by the soul of a nice mother,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, “this
is but a moiety of what her good son would ask you. Having received
the life of John Castilian, he would ask your permission, madam, that
in some sort he may punish him, for you need not to be told that his
crimes are many and abominable.”
“As you say, Sirrah Red Dragon, his crimes are many and
abominable,” said the Countess Sylvia. “I would indeed have you
punish him. I would have you punish him with all possible rigour.”
Speaking thus, she gazed at the unfortunate prince with a power of
resentment that he, who was true to his degree, met with a calm
indifferency.
“All possible rigour,” said Sir Richard Pendragon softly, “is indeed the
best part of the design of your old honest servant. And to that end,
madam, I would ask to deliver John Castilian to you again in order
that you may bestow this dreadful rigor upon him.”
“It is well, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said his mistress. “In this you are
wise. We shall know in what sort to visit the spawn of darkness and
bloody-minded prince.”
“And yet, madam,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, “by the grace of your
ladyship is it not left to old honest Dickon to nominate the weapons
of your severity?”
“Pray do so, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said madam with a courteous
indulgence. “But perhaps you will not omit to weigh the efficacy upon
delicate flesh of hot sharp-pointed nails? And also of hard pieces of
rock upon the sensitive limb bones?”
“Nay, madam,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, “a good mother’s son
forgets not the efficacy of these honest things; yet, under the favour
of your ladyship, if he is minded to speak out of his ripe observation,
this elderly seeker after virtue would venture to recommend an even
more dreadful rigour, a rigour even more salutary.”
“By every manner of means, Sirrah Red Dragon, I would have you
recommend it.”
As the Countess Sylvia spoke she fixed another remorseless glance
upon the unhappy prince.
“That which one who is old, madam,” said the English giant in his
softest voice, “and one who hath been accustomed all his years to
grope for the light of the truth is fain to recommend to the grace of
your ladyship, is the most excessive rigour known to mankind; a
greater rigour which contains all the lesser rigours within itself; a
rigour which poor unlucky manhood, be it that of prince or of
peasant, is wont to regard with the same abhorrence as a sea-coal
fire is regarded by a gib cat with a singed tail. The barbarous and
excessive rigour to which your old honest servant refers, madam, is
that which is profanely called holy matrimony. English Dickon humbly
submits, madam, that you should receive John Castilian in the bonds
of wedlock, and so visit the royal rascal according to his merit.”
Upon the enunciation of this project, which had only been possible to
one of Sir Richard Pendragon’s surpassing boldness, the Count of
Nullepart and myself had a lively fear that madam would drive her
poinard into the heart of her over-presumptuous captain. For when
he spoke in this wise her slender fingers trembled on the jewelled hilt
of her dagger, and she cried out with flaming eyes,—
“Wed the spawn of darkness, sirrah! Wed the bloody-minded prince!”
“Even so, madam,” said the English giant, withdrawing a pace from
her striking hand. “Under your gracious favour, that is the rigour that
is humbly proposed by one who hath grown old in the love of virtue.”
As the Englishman spoke, a change was wrought in the demeanour
of the Countess Sylvia. Like a very woman or a small child, or
perchance like them both (for the worshipful Count of Nullepart
assures me that they are one and the same), she peered into the
eyes of her captain. And the manner of this action, which was one of
a furtive modesty, seemed to imply that she dared hardly to look lest
she should discover that which she feared to see.
“Wed the spawn of darkness!” she breathed softly. “I—I, Sirrah Red
Dragon—I wed the froward prince!”
She continued to repeat these words in a low voice. Yet ever and
anon she peered upwards to the red and hungry eyes of her great
captain, that were full of a sombre and whimsical phantasy. And to
the worshipful Count of Nullepart and to myself, who hung upon
each phase of that which was toward, it seemed to us both, in the
curious anguish of our hearts, that the lifeblood of the little Countess
Sylvia ebbed away from her even as she gazed.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE LAST
I know not how long it was before the eyes of our mistress recoiled
from that humorous front with which her great captain met the whole
assembly. With her, I fear it must have been an age. Yet at last her
gaze, that was now hapless, faltered altogether, and, like a proud-
wingèd bird with its plumage torn, it fell to earth.
At the same instant this delectable form was shaken bitterly. And
then our mistress looked up, and with eyes that shone no more like
the Tagus, and with cheeks ashen white instead of the rosy carmine
of a fair flower, she said with a most beautiful gentleness,—
“An it please you, Sirrah Red Dragon, I—I will wed the froward
prince.”
Without permitting her unhappiness to stray away to him to whom
this resolve was published, she summoned to her side the royal
captive with an air that was ineffable.
The King, who was only too well acquainted with all that had passed,
for it was of the highest significance to Castile and to himself, came
forward at his youthful cousin’s behest.
“Froward prince,” said the Countess Sylvia, speaking with a sweet
broken gentleness which yet seemed to proclaim a wide dominion of
the soul, “your crime is forgot. The halters are taken from the throats
of your ministers. Your treasuries are given back to you; and with
them is given my good pleasure.”
With a cheek the colour of snow, our mistress held forth her slender
jewelled fingers to him of Castile. Yet at first the King made no sign,
perhaps for bewilderment or perhaps for shame. And then, slowly
and modestly, with a humility in all his gestures, with a pure and
noble fire in his eyes, he knelt before her and bowed his head.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
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