Welcome to GeoffreyDancer.com

Remembering Geoff Dancer, by Yuri Paterson-Olenich

The first time I met Geoff must have been back in 1992, when I was studying at the RAM. My professor, Alex Kelly, had come round to my student digs for a cultural evening/booze-up. He had a go on my clapped-out Bösendorfer, announced that the sensation he received from massaging a sound out of the poorly regulated keys was akin to “playing a trampoline” and went on to exclaim, “You’ve got to get Geoff round!”

“Getting Geoff round” to look at your piano was a cultural experience involving food, wine, literature, discussion of the terrible state of society and of course, most importantly, music. For me, the term ‘piano technician’ hardly seems an adequate epithet for Geoff, who approached piano restoration with the very same artistry he devoted to music itself. He would take great pains to make me understand what he was striving for – “The wood of this soundboard gives the bass on this piano a rich cello sound and I think I’ll be able to bring this out even more” or “Can you hear the difference if I move these strings so they go through their guide-holes dead centre?” – and I would find my ears were tuned in differently to the instrument after one of his visits.

I’m sure we all remember our own particular kindnesses from Geoff. I think mine was that he probably charged me a lot less than he should have for the first overhaul of my piano during my student years, although he never mentioned it.

Conversations with Geoff about music were always a pleasure. I think his preparation for recitals – which he would give on a piano that he himself had restored, of course – was a long process of contemplation. It was interesting to hear him express his thoughts about the pieces he was working on and these thoughts often came over as poetic, which was the way he played too. One idea in particular that touched me was his description of Vogel als Prophet from Schumann’s Waldszenen. Geoff felt that the outer sections of this miniature were as though you are walking through the forest listening to some beautiful but mysterious birdsong, and that the middle section of hymn-like music was as though your ears had suddenly been adjusted so that you could now understand the bird’s meaning.

I’m grateful to Geoff’s family, who travelled from up north to hold the funeral in London. Concluding the service with Geoff’s live concert recording of the sixth number from Schubert’s Moments Musicaux was a perfect choice and he plays it marvellously.

Thanks Geoff!

Yuri Paterson-Olenich (website)

Geoff in top form at Keith's 60th birthday family celebrations - Ruddings Park , Harrogate, October 2008

What makes a Piano?

Simply expressed, the piano is instrument whose characteristic tone is a result of the amplification of vibrating strings (struck by felt hammers) in contact via a wooden bridge connected to a large thin diaphragm (the soundboard).

The evolution of the piano from its origins in the 18th century has been a constant search for an ever improved sustaining quality. This sustaining quality is paramount and is the factor most sought after by the pianist as the key to expressive range. All Geoff’s piano restoration work is toward this optimum goal.

This sustaining quality is basically dependent on the three elements mentioned earlier: the strings, hammers, and soundboard and their subtle interaction. The hammers contribute the volume of sound as well as quality of impact on the strings, the strings give the pitch and sustain this impact whilst the soundboard adds body and consequently ‘colour’.

Although crudely speaking a percussion instrument, the alchemy of the piano lies in the way that it can, given the right instrument and performer, be as expressive and suggestive as a bowed stringed instrument or even a voice.

Strings and hammers may be regarded as ‘service’ items; not improved by age, and replaceable without affecting the essential character of an instrument. It is the nature of the soundboard, and its contribution to the production of sound, that makes old pianos worth the trouble and costs of restoration.

The quality of old violins from the great makers has for a long time been accepted as the summit towards which modern makers must aspire to climb; for pianos, some of the same arguments apply - the quality and seasoning of the wood in the soundboard, for example.

And yet many people - encouraged perhaps by the new piano industry and its commercial interests - still regard pianos as machines, and suitable for replacement every few years. Read on for more on this debate and about piano restoration….

Old and New

Piano design has not really changed since 1880 so a brand new Yamaha grand has structurally everything in common with its 19th century equivalent.

Age does have a detrimental effect on pianos in several ways: strings oxidise and stiffen, losing their ability to sustain; hammer felt hardens if left unserviced over the years, or becomes soft and compacted - unable to operate in a springy fashion against the string (new or old!). These factors will produce a marked deterioration in sound quality.

However, the most important part of any piano is the soundboard, which in most cases remains the same, and even if splits have occurred, may still retain an advantage over the modern soundboard in its sensitivity of reaction owing to its having originally been seasoned more slowly.

Usually in a ‘worn out’ piano one is hearing dead strings and hammers perfectly amplified. In restoration, these three components are assessed and decisions made accordingly.

Provided that central heating has not caused the soundboard to change position vis-a-vis the overall string pressure, the old soundboard is in many ways (tonally, in a way of interest to a musician) superior to the new one and its condition is the first thing to be checked out. There are as many ‘sound personalities’ as there are instruments, and the soundboard is the component at the heart of the piano, and which imparts the individual voice (differing even within the same generic make).

Working on the hammer felts and how they are ‘flung’ to the strings is a further factor in the realisation of the potential of the soundboards contribution. The quality of the hammer felt has a direct relationship with the range of sound offered to the pianist, new sets of hammers fresh from the factory often needing an enormous amount of easing with needles to even begin to ascertain what kind of range is being offered by the soundboard.

Often new pianos have not had sufficient time for this ‘quality control’ to have taken place adequately, and hence their potential as instruments often remains unrealised. This over recent years has resulted in the tendency for the sound of the modern piano to be overly bright and ‘edgy’ with a consequent loss in expressive range. Given that the modern soundboard has a tendency to be stiffer in reaction to the string vibration, the hammer toners job here is paramount.

Concert 15th November 2001

An example of Geoff’s programme notes.  Always revealing of his approach to his playing and repertoire on more than one level, though Geoff was generally dismissive of them.

Prelude in C sharp minor op.45
Nocturne in B major op.62
Mazurka in B minor op.33 no.4
Mazurka in C sharp minor op.40 no.4
Mazurka in B flat major op.6 no.1
Fantasie in F minor op.49

The Prelude, written separately from the more celebrated collection of 24, was dedicated to Princess Tchernischov, daughter of the Russian Minister of War, and a pupil of Chopin. Hauntingly expressive, this work smoothly demonstrates that key aspect of Chopin’s art - chameleon like in effect, and yet seemingly natural – of juxtaposed harmonic shadings of a refinement unheard until now. The Nocturne is a perfect example of what Charles Rosen has called ‘a private meditation’ – wonderful mature example of the composer’s idiosyncratic free melodic style. Bel Canto inspired, the classical lines imbued with a lurking Morbidezza – a trait which gave trouble to many of his contemporaries. The return of the theme is uniquely bathed in trills before taking a calm leave. The Mazurkas are highly artificial creations of the most varying kind – cheerful or melancholic, introverted or irascible, impressive in their complexity of expression or captivating in their simplicity. These creative experiments have little to do with the historical Polish country dance from the Mazovia region although the B flat major is closest to the recognisable dotted rhythm reminiscent of the ballet class. This particular Mazurka nevertheless displays an episode where ‘folk’ elements based on Eastern scales add a somewhat exotic touch. The opening phrase of the B minor appears no less than ten times – a challenge for the player – and creates an almost obsessive bleakness punctuated with angry outbursts of recalled dotted mazurka rhythm resolving finally into a melodic release of intense poignancy after which a joyous working of the dotted rhythm is recalled. All ends bleakly however. The mazurka rhythm is, in the opening of op. 30, in mopingly alluded to and an atmosphere of intense nostalgia and longing for Polish culture pervades the whole Mazurka. The Fantaisie was written in 1841 whilst at George Sand’s estate at Nohant. The work opens with a slow march-like theme of serene gravity that never returns, but prefaces a whole sequence of ideas. The main body of the work is interrupted by a reflective central chorale-like episode in B major. This is alluded to triumphantly in the closing bars of the work.

Franz Schubert (1792 – 1828)

Sonata in D major D.850 (1825)
Allegro - Con moto - Scherzo & Trio:allegro vivace - Rondo: allegro moderato

Sonata first movement forms and constructions for Schubert were created with the formidable legacy of Beethoven (still alive and living in Vienna) ever present in his mind. As a gesture towards his mentor, Schubert takes the breezy opening idea through wrongly related keys within the space of 15 bars flinging us back to base for a more extended passage leading to the second theme – happy-go-lucky but soon skidding to a stop – a stuck chord searching for a way out. Exit is found, the second theme re-instated and the first half ends confidently, but arriving on the wrong chord. A passage ensues – a sort of ‘call to arms’ – and Schubert proceeds to tighten the repetition of the material. The recap is reached and the opening argument is repeated, ending in a coda at faster pace, breathlessly racing to the end. The lengthy second movement is based on the opening male chorus–like theme which takes many directions juxtaposed with a more poignant horn-like theme, again taking many directions. A blatant heralding of a recap of the first idea ushers in the idea itself decorated from above with one of the most discreet figurings in all of Schubert. The Scherzo is a robust German dance, confident and cocky, with lighter waltz-like passages bowing to the Trio – seemingly calm but never far from anguish. The Scherzo returns and the waltz idea trips into oblivion.

The final movement begins above opening chords – deceptively naïve in character or knowingly resigned? Semiquaver movement infiltrates evermore and passages of Beethoven-like writing ensue. The theme returns varied and is followed by a clearly gemutlich slower section, lyrical in character – repeated chords supporting the melody on top. Back comes our theme again but this time subsumed by constantly running semiquavers, quietly joyous, running out of steam to the very end where an empty canvas takes our leave.