The harpsichord in 33 answers

The difference lies in the mechanical nature of the instrument. On the piano, the sound is produced by a hammer striking the string, and the intensity depends on the speed at which the key goes down. On the harpsichord, the string is plucked by a plectrum carried by the jack; the pressure must be controlled, clean and focused at the bottom of the key. Harpsichord touch rejects the dead weight of the arm and concentrates on the agile articulation of the fingers.

The main hurdle for those coming from the piano is the instinctive search for dynamics through muscular force, which on the harpsichord stiffens the hand without changing the volume of the sound. For those coming from the organ, the difficulty lies in managing micro-articulation and the release of the key. I help students overcome this block by training them to listen for the “click” of the jack: finger independence and fingertip sensitivity are the keys to mastering the instrument.

Starting with the harpsichord offers an enormous advantage: it develops immediate tactile sensitivity, millimetric control of the fingers and an awareness of articulation that the piano risks making lazy. Beginning on the historical keyboard trains the ear to purity of sound and polyphonic clarity from the very first steps, making any later approach to the piano far more informed.

The harpsichord has an illusory but extraordinarily effective dynamic, based on time and articulation. Expressiveness is achieved by changing the length of the notes (legato, detached, over-legato), delaying or anticipating a note to bring it out (agogics), thickening chords and shaping the silences. It is a rhetorical expressiveness, in which the space between the notes speaks more than the note itself.

In early music there are no “studies” in the nineteenth-century sense (in the manner of Czerny). Technique is learned directly from the historical treatises and from the original teaching repertoire. Pieces based on scales, arpeggios and polyphonic passages drawn from old intabulations or early eighteenth-century suites serve as genuine exercises for finger independence and hand position.

Harpsichord posture calls for a stable but flexible seat, generally higher than at the piano. Since the instrument does not require the use of body weight, the shoulders, arms and wrists must remain completely relaxed. The driving force is confined entirely to the fingers, avoiding tensions that would harm the fluency of articulation.

It is learned through slow practice, training the fingertips to feel the exact moment at which the plectrum meets the string. The key must not be attacked, but accompanied with steady pressure until this small physical resistance is overcome. This control ensures perfect simultaneity of sound in polyphonic parts.

The journey almost always begins with simple dance forms or small polyphonic pieces from the eighteenth century. The ideal repertoire combines melodic linearity with structural clarity. Taking the first steps on clear, uncluttered structures makes it possible to isolate technical problems and to concentrate entirely on the beauty of the sound and the control of touch.

In the very first lessons we work on the little pieces from the Anna Magdalena Bach Notebook, the elementary compositions of Henry Purcell or the minuets of Jean-Philippe Rameau. They are short, structurally clear pieces that allow the student to become familiar straight away with the first rules of articulation and with the basic use of ornaments, without being discouraged by complex reading.

A very important lesson comes from the study of unmeasured preludes, by which I mean the short and simple ones: for example the little Prelude in A minor by Louis Couperin, or the little preludes of the Paignon manuscript (found in Colin Tilney's beautiful edition for Schott). These pieces allow us to connect immediately with the sound and with the harmonic rhythm hidden in the musical passages.

Absolutely not. The harpsichord teaching programme is tailor-made, cut to fit the student's background. A musician who arrives after years of organ study needs a path focused on key release and agogics; a pianist will need to work on shedding weight; a complete beginner will follow a gradual progression focused on coordination and Baroque grammar.

The French repertoire is a school of style and rhetoric. We start with the more linear and descriptive pieces of François Couperin or Rameau to understand the deep bond between music and Baroque dance. The path continues with the complexity of the préludes non mesurés and the systematic study of ornaments, until we reach the true interpretive goal: making the text fluid, elegant and eloquent.

The first step is to understand that inequality is not a mathematical rule but an expressive and choreographic need. We begin by applying it to pieces in conjunct motion with regular note values, learning to alternate long and short notes naturally, almost caressing the keyboard. The aim is to imitate the fluidity of singing and the dance step of the period.

The study of basso continuo is introduced alongside the solo pieces, starting with the realisation of simple harmonic progressions and cadences over given basses. The student learns to read figured bass and to understand harmony not as a vertical block but as a dense web of extemporised melodic lines, developing the ear and readiness in performance.

Basso continuo takes the keyboard player out of the isolation typical of the soloist. It obliges the student to listen to the other instruments (strings, winds, voices), to breathe with them and to adapt their own sound, pace and harmonic density to the acoustics of the hall and the colour of the ensemble. It is an extraordinary training ground for humility, intellectual alertness and musical sociability.

At the harpsichord, the division between practice and theory does not exist. Playing a historical instrument without knowing the theory of the period, which includes counterpoint, rhetoric, the theory of affects and the rules of tuning, means playing empty notes. Understanding the Baroque musical text depends entirely on knowing the cultural codes that produced it.

There are three pillars of the treatise literature to study in depth: L'Art de toucher le clavecin by François Couperin (1716), Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach's Versuch (Essay on the True Art of Playing Keyboard Instruments, 1753) and Johann Joachim Quantz's treatise on the transverse flute (1752), essential for understanding the taste and musical aesthetics of the eighteenth century.

For a critical introduction and a modern aesthetic framework, essential reading includes the writings of Nikolaus Harnoncourt (such as Baroque Music Today: Music as Speech), essays by historical keyboard players and the philological studies of the great twentieth-century teachers, among which the writings and lessons of Maestro Kenneth Gilbert on French and European keyboard literature stand out.

Unlike the piano, which is permanently tuned in equal temperament, the harpsichord thrives on the variety of historical temperaments (Vallotti, Werckmeister, meantone). Understanding these tunings allows the student to grasp why a key sounds harsh or very sweet, using the acoustic tensions of the intervals to heighten the expressive contrasts intended by the composer.

The Theory of Affects (Affektenlehre) is the Baroque code that links particular musical figures, intervals or keys to a specific state of mind: joy, sorrow, fury, contemplation. The performer analyses the score to identify these rhetorical elements and uses articulation, tempo and the registration of the instrument to convey that affect clearly to the listener.

The historical rule is not a prison but a map. The treatises of the period tell us what an eighteenth-century musician could or could not do, but they leave immense room for improvisation, invention and personal taste. Philology serves to clean the score of later accretions; once the authentic language has been reconstructed, the modern performer must use it with complete freedom and a present-day sensibility.

Respect for the rule ends when music becomes archaeology; art begins when that ancient code speaks again to the heart of the modern listener.

Absolutely. By its very nature the harpsichord demands continuous creative input from the performer. Many Baroque scores are harmonic skeletons that the artist must enrich: the choice and variety of ornaments (agréments), the improvisation of diminutions, the spontaneity of realising the basso continuo and the freedom of unmeasured preludes call for a composer's mind and a creativity that is always at work.

The choice of registers (8-foot, 4-foot, lute stop) must be guided by the formal structure of the piece and its intended purpose. In the French repertoire, changes of register are often indicated or suggested by the very nature of the pieces (for example the Pièces de clavecin en concerts), while in the German or Italian repertoire the tendency is to keep a stable registration for whole sections (terraced dynamics), favouring the clarity of the polyphonic texture.

Silence is the harpsichord's most powerful expressive tool. As a plucked-string instrument, its sound decays quickly; managing the empty space between the release of one key and the attack of the next creates dramatic tension, rhetorical breath and the illusion of legato phrasing. The harpsichordist does not only play the notes, but sculpts the silence.

Through the judicious use of historical rubato, which differs from the Romantic kind. As the treatises describe, the rhythm of the bass must remain as solid and regular as a heartbeat, while the upper melodic line may hesitate, bend, hold back or press forward to bring out the density of the affects, then reabsorbing the time it has taken within the bar.

It is developed through the assimilation of historical models. The student must not invent from nothing, but internalise the patterns described in the ornament tables of the great composers: Rameau, Couperin, d'Anglebert.

The true interpretive goal is eloquence: making the instrument “speak”. Teaching succeeds when the student stops thinking of the keys as physical obstacles and begins to use them as the syllables, words and phrases of an articulated rhetorical discourse. The harpsichord must not merely dazzle with the brilliance of its mechanism, but must move, convince and captivate the listener through the poetry and fluidity of its sound.

Without any doubt. The harpsichord is a formidable instrument for the musical education of children in nursery and primary school. Its keys are narrower and lighter, perfect for a child's hand, which does not have to make harmful muscular efforts. Moreover, the clarity of the harpsichord's sound supports early musical literacy, training the ear to pure polyphony and stimulating fine motor coordination without the fatigue-related strain typical of the piano.

The path for young children (such as the project “The Child-Sized Harpsichord”) is founded on play, storytelling and description. We use pieces from the harpsichord tradition that imitate the sounds of nature, animals or fairy-tale characters, typical of the French repertoire. The child learns articulation by playing with the key, picturing the movement of the jack as a natural little hop, and develops musicality without noticing the academic rigour of the instrument.

The advantages are both mechanical and cognitive. The harpsichord key does not require strength from the arm or shoulder, eliminating at the root the risk of tendinitis or poor posture in young children. From a cognitive point of view, the transparent polyphony of the harpsichord trains the child to distinguish independent melodic lines far more clearly than the blended sound produced by the pedals and resonance of the piano.

The definitive choice often arises from the need for a more intimate, intellectual and artisanal contact with the substance of sound. The harpsichord offers absolute control over the micro-structure of sound and rhetoric. Finding one's own voice on this instrument means falling in love with its immense literature, the refinement of the Baroque repertoire and the creative freedom it grants the performer, turning performance into a cultivated and timeless dialogue.

Write to me at elisabetta.guglielmin@gmail.com and tell me where you are coming from (piano, organ or no instrument at all), your level and your goals. Individual lessons are designed for every level, from complete beginners to professionals seeking further training.

Yes. Individual lessons take place in person or remotely, and are tailored to each student's path and goals.

It consists of eight weekends from October to May: each meeting combines an individual lesson with ensemble music alongside the violin, cello, lute and theorbo students of the Early Music Department. In December the course moves to Trevi for the Festival Federico Cesi Winter. Dates, fees and enrolment.