Recently
several of my students have found themselves on the tangible side of
much hard work, frustration, hope and dedication. The tangible side
being the stage when we know we are onto something. We know we sound
better. We are aware there is a command developed over our art form that
allows us to be more fluid, spontaneous and creative.
This
personal acknowledgement is often the most rewarding part of all the
hard work. After all, if we practice for the praise of our peers,
teachers, parents, fans, etc.; we may become disenchanted very quickly.
Those things are out of our control and often have nothing to do with
the quality of what we do. The ultimate fulfillment is to know that we
are able to communicate through our art - becoming aware of this is
very special.
With
my own practice and my students’ practice, I have seen this climb to
the top of the mountain most often end up in disappointment and
frustration. This is mostly because of our programmed belief that we
have passed the exam, we have graduated or we have achieved a certain
rite of passage. We see masters perform and create and think that if we
just get to their level things become so effortless and easy. As we
experience these little epiphanies in our own creative pursuits, we
relax thinking we’ve made it one step closer - or we are one step
beyond what we worked on last week, last month, last year or decades
ago.
This
thought pattern is often the seed of us getting stuck. We’ve all been
in our ruts where we get frustrated, bored or tired of our own art. We
just can’t see how to get to the next level or break away from our bag
of tricks. If we can catch ourselves going down this path, I feel that
we can create a cycle of momentum that can be monumental for long-term
growth. If we keep trying to graduate to the next thing, our art
becomes less and less rewarding and meaningful - motivation becomes more
and more difficult to come by.
The
idea of graduating or passing from anything in performing or the
creative process is ill-founded at best. I have found over the years of
practicing and teaching that the highs come when a strong foundation of
concepts come together and the lows come when we discover (consciously
or unconsciously) gaps in our foundation.
Just
like most flowers can’t continually bloom all year round, our playing
can’t continue to go from one peak to the next. Our practice has to be
always advancing and receding. We have to have the courage to tear down
what we do well and build up what we can’t do. This process is very
humbling but I believe that this is where we find our artistic voice.
When
we master a song or concept and are feeling really good about
ourselves, it’s time to change something. Start with the basics...
Change the key - try transposing whatever you are doing into all twelve
keys. Change the tempo - if you are playing something at 180 beats per
minute see how you sound at 30 beats per minute or 280 beats per
minute. Change the articulation - reverse all the legatos to staccatos
and vice versa. Listen to 10 recordings of the piece by great artists
and emulate their phrasing and ignore what is on the page. It will only
make you able to execute what’s on the page better - or make
well-rounded decisions on your own interpretations.
Recent
studies by neuroscientists have shown that we do not improve with
static repetitions. If we do something “correct” three times in a row
we are not improving. We only improve if something changes each repetition
and our brain make the proper adjustments. Even moving the metronome
five points one way or the other will benefit us more than repeating
something the same way several times in a row. Would video games be as
popular if we sat and played the same level over and over once we
mastered it?
The final approach mentioned in this article is the application of
concepts. If we can only apply a concept to the specific (or original)
piece we are practicing, then we don’t own the concept - the specific
piece of repertoire now owns the concepts and concepts will not be
easily transferable. When this happens, we will feel like we’re
starting all over with every piece. We’ve all been there and it is not
fun.
Let’s
say we get obsessed with playing “My Romance” like Bill Evans. After
hours and hours of hard work we can sound really good on “My Romance.”
Then we go to play through another tune and we sound exactly the way we
did before we started on the “My Romance” project... Maybe even worse
since all of our practice time was taken up by this project.
If
we are not able to apply the concepts from Bill Evans’ “My Romance” to
“Happy Birthday” or Stephen Foster songs or nursery rhymes then we will
always be starting over with each new piece and there will not be enough
hours in the day to improve on each of them.
Try
taking whatever concepts you are working on and spend some time (even a
little time) applying them to something else - keep it simple. Find
some simple folk songs from around the world and apply the concepts
there. If we can’t apply our most complicated concepts to simple
applications, then something is not right and a rut could be waiting.
Michael Stegner
Copyright © 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Slowing Down and Listening
Practicing scales is a great opportunity to consciously shape our personal sound. For many years I would use scales to build dexterity and theory knowledge. On many levels this experience was very helpful. However, the greatest benefit I experienced from practicing scales happened when I changed my habits, focus and priorities.
When I finally slowed down and took the time to listen closely to myself, my playing transformed thanks to scale practice. Practicing scales can be invaluable in developing a personal sound and consistency of tone. The irony is that they can also prevent this from happening - I spent many years in this camp!
When my playing hit a low point and I grew frustrated, I put the metronome at 40 and played each note of a four octave scale for two beats. This took a really long time but it also started to open my playing up.
For the first octave I was filled with anxiety because it was so hard to play and groove at that speed. But once I started to settle in, I could feel a shift. I was actually aware of my sound. I really started to listen to myself. I could hear the beginning, middle and end of each note. I could hear the difference in the sound as I let go of tension in my neck, back, arms, etc. The sound was determining my technique. When the sound was thin or bright it was because I wasn’t paying attention or because there was tension in my body.
This was humbling on one level because I realized how unaware I had been when practicing. It was also very exciting. I felt liberated because I was finally able to allow myself to be captivated by the sound I was creating. This is what I had heard my musical heroes do on a very high level. I just never had experienced it myself for this long - a very slow four octave scale.
After getting into this type of practice, the autopilot started to take a backseat to spontaneous and creative playing - even on something as mundane as a very slow scale.
There are stories of Art Tatum showing up for gigs and playing all the way up and down the piano. He would remember all the out-of-tune notes or sticking keys and never play them the whole performance.
One thing that can be taken away from these stories is that we need to be flexible. We have to be constantly making adjustments as we play. What we hear and feel (within our technique) should be determining these adjustments.
It is my opinion that we should strive to attain a fluid technique rather than a memorized or rigid technique.
I often become fascinated watching my younger students try to play various forms of loud and soft dynamics from memory. You can almost see their body say, “If I push the key down this hard then maybe ‘loud’ will happen.”
“When I played this at home this amount of pressure made a ‘soft’ sound. On this piano no sound came out at all!”
It is tempting to use muscle memory to determine how much ‘pressure’ we need to play a loud sound or soft sound, staccato or legato, etc. It is hard to find joy in this type of playing. When we perform away from home or get to our lessons or sit at a different piano everything changes - yet we can’t. Playing music this way is very stressful because it leaves at the mercy of so many external factors.
Musical playing really starts to happen when we ask ourselves, “What do I sound like?” We should probably ask ourselves this question with each note played. When the sound determines our technical adjustments we become more flexible and in the moment. This means that listening to ourselves becomes the biggest asset to our technique and musicality.
Our practice can help our technique serve our art. However, mindless practice of technique can make our art serve our technique. There is not much joy in playing that way. There is not much joy in listening to someone play that way.
Over the next week I’ll spell out some ways to practice scales in a way to help develop this intent and awareness as you practice.
Here is a more detailed explanation of how to practice the scales slowly as mentioned earlier...
Slow Scales
Intent: Every note should have a consistent attack, decay and release.
Adjust your technique (posture, support, body) to manipulate the sound in the different registers of the instrument. It is important that the notes do not run into each other and overlap. Each note should start when the previous one ends. There should also be no gaps between the notes. There should be a very clear transition from one note to the next.
Play this with the metronome between 35 and 50. Each note of the scale gets two clicks on the metronome. Try to play at exactly the same time as the metronome. Listen. Listen. Listen. Become aware of any tension in your body and work to let it go - listen to the results of your adjustments in the sound of each note. Let the sound guide you.
When I finally slowed down and took the time to listen closely to myself, my playing transformed thanks to scale practice. Practicing scales can be invaluable in developing a personal sound and consistency of tone. The irony is that they can also prevent this from happening - I spent many years in this camp!
When my playing hit a low point and I grew frustrated, I put the metronome at 40 and played each note of a four octave scale for two beats. This took a really long time but it also started to open my playing up.
For the first octave I was filled with anxiety because it was so hard to play and groove at that speed. But once I started to settle in, I could feel a shift. I was actually aware of my sound. I really started to listen to myself. I could hear the beginning, middle and end of each note. I could hear the difference in the sound as I let go of tension in my neck, back, arms, etc. The sound was determining my technique. When the sound was thin or bright it was because I wasn’t paying attention or because there was tension in my body.
This was humbling on one level because I realized how unaware I had been when practicing. It was also very exciting. I felt liberated because I was finally able to allow myself to be captivated by the sound I was creating. This is what I had heard my musical heroes do on a very high level. I just never had experienced it myself for this long - a very slow four octave scale.
After getting into this type of practice, the autopilot started to take a backseat to spontaneous and creative playing - even on something as mundane as a very slow scale.
There are stories of Art Tatum showing up for gigs and playing all the way up and down the piano. He would remember all the out-of-tune notes or sticking keys and never play them the whole performance.
One thing that can be taken away from these stories is that we need to be flexible. We have to be constantly making adjustments as we play. What we hear and feel (within our technique) should be determining these adjustments.
It is my opinion that we should strive to attain a fluid technique rather than a memorized or rigid technique.
I often become fascinated watching my younger students try to play various forms of loud and soft dynamics from memory. You can almost see their body say, “If I push the key down this hard then maybe ‘loud’ will happen.”
“When I played this at home this amount of pressure made a ‘soft’ sound. On this piano no sound came out at all!”
It is tempting to use muscle memory to determine how much ‘pressure’ we need to play a loud sound or soft sound, staccato or legato, etc. It is hard to find joy in this type of playing. When we perform away from home or get to our lessons or sit at a different piano everything changes - yet we can’t. Playing music this way is very stressful because it leaves at the mercy of so many external factors.
Musical playing really starts to happen when we ask ourselves, “What do I sound like?” We should probably ask ourselves this question with each note played. When the sound determines our technical adjustments we become more flexible and in the moment. This means that listening to ourselves becomes the biggest asset to our technique and musicality.
Our practice can help our technique serve our art. However, mindless practice of technique can make our art serve our technique. There is not much joy in playing that way. There is not much joy in listening to someone play that way.
Over the next week I’ll spell out some ways to practice scales in a way to help develop this intent and awareness as you practice.
Here is a more detailed explanation of how to practice the scales slowly as mentioned earlier...
Slow Scales
Intent: Every note should have a consistent attack, decay and release.
Adjust your technique (posture, support, body) to manipulate the sound in the different registers of the instrument. It is important that the notes do not run into each other and overlap. Each note should start when the previous one ends. There should also be no gaps between the notes. There should be a very clear transition from one note to the next.
Play this with the metronome between 35 and 50. Each note of the scale gets two clicks on the metronome. Try to play at exactly the same time as the metronome. Listen. Listen. Listen. Become aware of any tension in your body and work to let it go - listen to the results of your adjustments in the sound of each note. Let the sound guide you.
Michael Stegner
Copyright © 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Technique - An Introduction
The compartmentalization of musicianship can lead to several blocks and disconnects in our practice and performance. We study theory separately from technique, technique separately from repertoire and repertoire separately from improvisation. This can lead to large gaps in artistic development because we tend to pigeonhole ourselves way too soon and too often. We decide that we can improvise but can’t read. We can read but can’t memorize. We can memorize but we can’t do Hanon. We hate theory but love repertoire.
It’s as if the musical dots are discouraged from being connected!
This mindless way of practicing can also have a detrimental effect on our attitude towards our own playing and our judgement of others. We discount other players for being too technical. Others dismiss our playing as being too technical. We get frustrated by what we can’t do. We think that our technique gets in the way of our expression.
However, the technique (or lack of) is not the issue at all - it’s the intent behind the technique. Practicing our instruments with no intent to accomplish something musical or no awareness of how we sound, makes technique the end of the means. Sadly, it’s often all we have to show of ourselves when we play our instruments. Our chops are merely part of the whole picture - maybe even invisible to most if we are truly creating art.
I would like to share some philosophies that have helped my technique practice time be more productive and musical. Then I will get into very specific practice methods that help curb the isolation between technical work and the other musicianship elements.
First, let’s look at a definition of “technique.” Technique can be defined as “a method of performance; way of accomplishing.”
If we understand when we sit down to work out our scales, etudes, etc., that they are in fact “methods of performance” our focus and creativity will increase. And if we saw this part of our practice as a “way of accomplishing,” we would have much more motivation and a positive attitude.
If we approach technique practice as anything other than a method of performance, the dreaded autopilot will take over. Then we get bored... We lose focus... We develop bad habits... We want to quit... We waste large chunks of time each day that we can never get back.
As artists, I think it is essential to always ask ourselves, “What do we want to accomplish?”
Do we want to impress everyone with how fast we play? Do we want to impress everyone with how much soul we have? Do we want to show everyone how much we know? Do we want to show everyone how we don’t have chops and don’t need them? Do we just want to play for fun? Do we want to please our teachers? Do we want approval from our peers or parents?
These are all ego-driven motivations that depend on our relationship to something outside of ourselves. These reasons to play music typically lead to short-lived peaks, really frustrating valleys and practice that doesn’t help us improve to our potential or fulfill us artistically.
Whether we realize it or not, when we go to our instrument we become an artist. The artist is supposed to be a messenger - to communicate. The source of the art lies within all of us. Technique is simply a conduit to bring the artistic source within to our instrument and eventually our audience - even if we’re playing for ourselves.
A prerequisite to technique practice is to know what and how you want to communicate. A purpose and sound is what we are trying to accomplish. Technique is merely the way to create music - artistic music.
Technique develops our sound, our tone, our touch and our facility. In other words, it’s the creation, delivery and development of our sound that is our musical fingerprint. It’s something that we should always be conscious of in practice and performance. It takes relentless focus and awareness to practice technique in a way that will give us a solid voice.
It is very detrimental to play a scale (or even a note) without having a plan - without deciding and knowing what you are to accomplish during that repetition. This is why we can so easily play a gig and not really remember how we got from the downbeat to the end of the set.
Next I’ll walk through practice methods that use technical exercises as a way to increase our level of artistry.
It’s as if the musical dots are discouraged from being connected!
Scales, arpeggios, etudes and other technical exercises are often presented as mindless athletic drills separate from playing music. They may increase our athleticism but decrease our musicality and awareness... Especially when they are practiced with no intent or awareness.
This mindless way of practicing can also have a detrimental effect on our attitude towards our own playing and our judgement of others. We discount other players for being too technical. Others dismiss our playing as being too technical. We get frustrated by what we can’t do. We think that our technique gets in the way of our expression.
However, the technique (or lack of) is not the issue at all - it’s the intent behind the technique. Practicing our instruments with no intent to accomplish something musical or no awareness of how we sound, makes technique the end of the means. Sadly, it’s often all we have to show of ourselves when we play our instruments. Our chops are merely part of the whole picture - maybe even invisible to most if we are truly creating art.
I would like to share some philosophies that have helped my technique practice time be more productive and musical. Then I will get into very specific practice methods that help curb the isolation between technical work and the other musicianship elements.
First, let’s look at a definition of “technique.” Technique can be defined as “a method of performance; way of accomplishing.”
If we understand when we sit down to work out our scales, etudes, etc., that they are in fact “methods of performance” our focus and creativity will increase. And if we saw this part of our practice as a “way of accomplishing,” we would have much more motivation and a positive attitude.
If we approach technique practice as anything other than a method of performance, the dreaded autopilot will take over. Then we get bored... We lose focus... We develop bad habits... We want to quit... We waste large chunks of time each day that we can never get back.
As artists, I think it is essential to always ask ourselves, “What do we want to accomplish?”
Do we want to impress everyone with how fast we play? Do we want to impress everyone with how much soul we have? Do we want to show everyone how much we know? Do we want to show everyone how we don’t have chops and don’t need them? Do we just want to play for fun? Do we want to please our teachers? Do we want approval from our peers or parents?
These are all ego-driven motivations that depend on our relationship to something outside of ourselves. These reasons to play music typically lead to short-lived peaks, really frustrating valleys and practice that doesn’t help us improve to our potential or fulfill us artistically.
Whether we realize it or not, when we go to our instrument we become an artist. The artist is supposed to be a messenger - to communicate. The source of the art lies within all of us. Technique is simply a conduit to bring the artistic source within to our instrument and eventually our audience - even if we’re playing for ourselves.
A prerequisite to technique practice is to know what and how you want to communicate. A purpose and sound is what we are trying to accomplish. Technique is merely the way to create music - artistic music.
Technique develops our sound, our tone, our touch and our facility. In other words, it’s the creation, delivery and development of our sound that is our musical fingerprint. It’s something that we should always be conscious of in practice and performance. It takes relentless focus and awareness to practice technique in a way that will give us a solid voice.
It is very detrimental to play a scale (or even a note) without having a plan - without deciding and knowing what you are to accomplish during that repetition. This is why we can so easily play a gig and not really remember how we got from the downbeat to the end of the set.
Next I’ll walk through practice methods that use technical exercises as a way to increase our level of artistry.
Click here for the previous article.
Michael Stegner
Michael Stegner
Copyright © 2012
Monday, January 2, 2012
Practicing and Performing
Throughout my playing and practice career I have often consciously and unconsciously struggled with being 100% connected to what I was playing. Possessed by a faithful autopilot, my hands and body sometimes carry me through a performance or practice session. Without respecting this disconnect; we typically endlessly analyze our performances, learn new material, push ourselves in negative ways and use external motivation to improve.
I found that even though many of these methods are great in theory, they didn’t change my performing or playing experience. However, when I started involving the creative process in my practice my musical life began to evolve quickly.
One of the biggest revelations in my musical development came when I realized that I didn’t have to wait to sound good. I would often trudge through scales, arpeggios, technical exercises, theory books, repertoire and improv exercises so that “someday” I would sound good. I was so focused on sounding good “someday” that I got in the habit of mentally checking out when practicing. I was told by myself and others that I wasn’t ready to sound good.
By the time that “someday” came around, my bad practice habits came to the forefront as uninspired and stressful performances.
I couldn’t believe how I instantly sounded better when I decided to take what I had and make it sound good!
In sports we have coaches who drive us to practice harder, push our limits and increase our focus. We are typically supervised several times each week. Learning to play piano was one day with my teacher and six days unsupervised to “work it out.”
When practicing my instrument alone, I often would be unproductively hard on myself or just meander through things without being present. In my head I would bounce between vague memories of my teachers’ suggestions and what I was going to do when I finished practicing, repeat something until I could do it at a certain level of proficiency or master something so I could move on to the next thing. And so the disconnect was born and nourished.
Now when teaching, I’ll ask a student if they would pay $10 to attend a concert where someone played the way they just did. So far in 15 years no one has said “Yes.”
When I ask “Why?”
They typically respond in a robotic, monotonic voice that recites something like, “It didn’t have dynamics, my left hand was too loud, I had a lot of pauses and it sped up.”
And I say, “Wow! I’m surprised that you would go pay for a concert and be inspired by that list of things. That doesn’t sound like a fun way to experience music. Is that what you think when you go see your favorite rock band?”
Finally, the student comes to the simple conclusion that they would be bored by their performance. And if they are really aware and honest, they admit that they were bored when they were playing (and practicing at home). We’ve all been there and still go there.
It is fascinating how we can be bored when recreating music written by geniuses or creating our own improvisations or compositions. At times it can even seem like the norm.
With all the elements of a solid performance in place, a performance can still fall very short. We somehow assume that we can practice void of any energy and excitement and show up for the gig and rock the house.
When the stage lights come on we are thrown for a loop because our nerves and adrenaline tell us that this time is different. Our newly obtained superhero abilities of focus and concentration zoom in on every little detail around us. We don’t know what to do with the intensity and our performances rarely live up to our expectations or potential.
Then we say, “I could have done so much better.”
Or, “I sounded so much better at home!”
And we create a divide between the practice and performance... the lessons and home... rehearsal and the gig.
So... what do we do?
We practice more hours. We switch teachers. We choose pieces that are more fun. We no longer play in front of people - the performance anxiety is just too much!
After trying all of these things at various stages of my life, I think they just avoid the issue.
I believe we owe it to ourselves to learn to practice in a way that can continuously renew our musical experience. Each day we should be entertained and inspired by the music with which we practice. Ironically, I feel this has very little to do with the actual repertoire but how we approach our day-to-day practice.
At it’s base level, music is about expression and communication. To effectively communicate we do need to improve our abilities and do the hard work. But we don’t do this by putting our creative self on hold. Our creative self needs to be driving the motivation to practice and how we practice.
This process does not need to wait until you get to a certain level. It needs to happen before we practice void of energy, quit or let the autopilot permanently replace us.
We perform every single time we sit at our instrument. These are opportunities to express and entertain ourselves or our audience. In our mind and attitude, there can be no difference between practice and performing.
Through teaching and practice I have come up with a few practice techniques that have helped my students and myself. I will share them here so that you can experiment and expand upon them in ways that work for your personal experience.
I will touch on techniques for the following:
I found that even though many of these methods are great in theory, they didn’t change my performing or playing experience. However, when I started involving the creative process in my practice my musical life began to evolve quickly.
One of the biggest revelations in my musical development came when I realized that I didn’t have to wait to sound good. I would often trudge through scales, arpeggios, technical exercises, theory books, repertoire and improv exercises so that “someday” I would sound good. I was so focused on sounding good “someday” that I got in the habit of mentally checking out when practicing. I was told by myself and others that I wasn’t ready to sound good.
By the time that “someday” came around, my bad practice habits came to the forefront as uninspired and stressful performances.
I couldn’t believe how I instantly sounded better when I decided to take what I had and make it sound good!
In sports we have coaches who drive us to practice harder, push our limits and increase our focus. We are typically supervised several times each week. Learning to play piano was one day with my teacher and six days unsupervised to “work it out.”
When practicing my instrument alone, I often would be unproductively hard on myself or just meander through things without being present. In my head I would bounce between vague memories of my teachers’ suggestions and what I was going to do when I finished practicing, repeat something until I could do it at a certain level of proficiency or master something so I could move on to the next thing. And so the disconnect was born and nourished.
Now when teaching, I’ll ask a student if they would pay $10 to attend a concert where someone played the way they just did. So far in 15 years no one has said “Yes.”
When I ask “Why?”
They typically respond in a robotic, monotonic voice that recites something like, “It didn’t have dynamics, my left hand was too loud, I had a lot of pauses and it sped up.”
And I say, “Wow! I’m surprised that you would go pay for a concert and be inspired by that list of things. That doesn’t sound like a fun way to experience music. Is that what you think when you go see your favorite rock band?”
Finally, the student comes to the simple conclusion that they would be bored by their performance. And if they are really aware and honest, they admit that they were bored when they were playing (and practicing at home). We’ve all been there and still go there.
It is fascinating how we can be bored when recreating music written by geniuses or creating our own improvisations or compositions. At times it can even seem like the norm.
With all the elements of a solid performance in place, a performance can still fall very short. We somehow assume that we can practice void of any energy and excitement and show up for the gig and rock the house.
When the stage lights come on we are thrown for a loop because our nerves and adrenaline tell us that this time is different. Our newly obtained superhero abilities of focus and concentration zoom in on every little detail around us. We don’t know what to do with the intensity and our performances rarely live up to our expectations or potential.
Then we say, “I could have done so much better.”
Or, “I sounded so much better at home!”
And we create a divide between the practice and performance... the lessons and home... rehearsal and the gig.
So... what do we do?
We practice more hours. We switch teachers. We choose pieces that are more fun. We no longer play in front of people - the performance anxiety is just too much!
After trying all of these things at various stages of my life, I think they just avoid the issue.
I believe we owe it to ourselves to learn to practice in a way that can continuously renew our musical experience. Each day we should be entertained and inspired by the music with which we practice. Ironically, I feel this has very little to do with the actual repertoire but how we approach our day-to-day practice.
At it’s base level, music is about expression and communication. To effectively communicate we do need to improve our abilities and do the hard work. But we don’t do this by putting our creative self on hold. Our creative self needs to be driving the motivation to practice and how we practice.
This process does not need to wait until you get to a certain level. It needs to happen before we practice void of energy, quit or let the autopilot permanently replace us.
We perform every single time we sit at our instrument. These are opportunities to express and entertain ourselves or our audience. In our mind and attitude, there can be no difference between practice and performing.
Through teaching and practice I have come up with a few practice techniques that have helped my students and myself. I will share them here so that you can experiment and expand upon them in ways that work for your personal experience.
I will touch on techniques for the following:
- Scales, arpeggios and technique
- Playing written music
- Improvised Music
- Performing
Michael Stegner
Copyright © 2012
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