Tag Archive for 'learning music'

Practicing Techniques

A musician can never stop practicing anytime in their career. I believe it was the great cellist Rostropovich (or was it Casals) who said, “If I don’t practice for one day, I notice a decline in quality; if it’s two days without practice, my wife notices; three days, my neighbor notices.”

Over the years my practice habits have sagged. Various illnesses and physical problems struck me down hard and repeatedly for about 5 years. And, to be honest, my passion for my instrument also sagged during those periods. I eventually went through a crisis in confidence and self-respect.

During that time I saw the movie Spiderman 2. In the movie, Spiderman loses his “powers” for some mysterious reason, but which had something to do with lack of belief in himself. He goes through a crisis of identity. I related to his condition at the time. My playing had not changed much from the outside, but my belief in myself as a strong player had declined seriously.

Over my long “recovery” of confidence, I rediscovered the most basic habits of good practicing. They are: Consistency, Physical Relaxation (Poise), Patience, Focus and Efficiency. These habits, of course, are quite general and can be applied to any complex individual task.

Practicing is a lonely task. It is tedious, repetitive, frustrating, and seemingly endless. The “myth of Sisyphus”, where Sisyphus pushes a huge boulder up a mountain everyday, only to find it at the bottom again the next, exemplifies the endless tediousness of practicing. But by cultivating the basic habits outlined above, one can chip away the mountain, or at least find the most efficient route to keep the boulder at the top more and more consistently.

Let’s look at each habit more closely.

Consistency: This is the most basic rule for accomplishing any long term project in life. And it is primary to being a succesful musician. One of my old teachers, Robert Marcellus, claimed that the students who practiced their scales daily were the ones most likely to succeed. A local trumpet player, whose playing is the most consistent I’ve ever heard, warms up exactly the same way before any rehearsal or concert.

I begin the day with slow scales, which can be described as combination of long-tones and scales. I start with the lowest register of the clarinet, where the air can be relaxed and full, where the embouchure can be the softest. I play the scale one octave, whole notes, using a full sound, then descend the next half step up, continuing up the to the highest range of the instrument. I also add some legato tonguing, to be sure that muscle is also poised and focused. This way I slowly warm up the body: fingers, embouchure, tongue and air without stress. This warm also helps me be sure my body is Relaxed and Poised.

Consistency does not just mean regularity here. One must be consistent in attitude and focus during each session and during the entire practice session.

Patience: One cannot practice in a hurry. That is when the most damage is done. An uncanny aspect of the body is that it learns fast, even mistakes. A passage played wrong once takes three times to correct. Slow down, mentally and physically. Find the level at which you can play something and work from there. Anger and frustration accomplish nothing. Take a break if you are on edge. Taking many small breaks helps me stay balanced and focused.

This brings me to the next habit, Focus. One cannot practice without being alert and focused. One of the most difficult aspects of being a professional musician is the odd hours we have to keep. My orchestra can schedule performances or rehearsals anytime from 10 AM to 8 PM. My body and mind must be able to focus at any time. The obvious implication here is the importance of proper rest, diet and exercise to maintain our real instrument, the body.

Practice time must be kept clear of distractions to allow focus as intense as a surgeon’s in order to refine and improve the smallest details in one’s playing. There is no other way to improve. Bludgeoning away at something without close attention will only ingrain sloppy habits. This brings me to efficiency of thought and action.

Efficiency: Like a scientist, we must closely observe patterns in our playing and analyze limitations for solutions. Developing problem solving skills is crucial. Experimentation is recommended if a solution is not obvious. A good teacher can help student learn efficient problem solving.

If I am learning a difficult passage, the first thing I do is isolate the biggest problem spots. Let’s say I am learning a passage of fast sixteenth notes where a group of four notes are slowing me down. I drop the rest of the passage and focus on problem group. I may repeat them slowly a few times, or try different rhythms to gain finger dexterity.

But I also look at all aspects of those notes and check off what might be causing the glitch. Is my air steady through those notes? This is often the hidden problem with technique on a wind instrument. Without steady air, no passage will flow easily.

Then I look at each change of fingering in the passage. Are the fingers moving as efficiently as possible, staying over the keys without tension or gripping? I may notice that the fingerings between just two notes requires 5 or 6 fingers to move. This may be the tripping point. If so, I’ll create a trill exercise using just those two notes. This is just one example of how detailed focus can improve one tiny passage in a larger work.

During this detailed analysis, I occasionally remind myself to “stay in the room”. By this I mean keep the body and mind in the physical present, so as not to lose awareness of creeping tension in any part of body or mind while focusing narrowly on a detail. Staying open physically and mentally during tedious practice is probably one of the most important habits one can cultivate as a musician.

The underlying foundation of all good playing is belief in oneself. A musician cannot accomplish much without that basic self trust. But by employing the habits detailed above, one can gain confidence and control over one’s body and instrument.

Playing What Is

A musician sits practicing alone in his room, as he has done most of his life. He is a beloved performer, respected and revered by many. He is concentrated and fearless in his focus. Time passes effortlessly here. Time stops.

The light in his room dims. He looks up from the piece he is playing, the solo part from the slow movement of Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto. Above his music stand, there hovers a soft violet glow. He hears a chorus murmuring.

(voices of listeners from all time):You play the music in our hearts. You play things we feel. You are deep and wise.

(performer): No, I play what I am told to play. I play what I know you will feel. But I do not feel what you do. I am not wise.

This saddens us. You are not what you seem. Tell us why.

I think and feel as you do, but I am empty. I fill myself with things which give the impression I am full. I show you yourself.

But how can you show us so much knowing so little?

I feel my pain with doubt. I question everything. I challenge reality. But the structure of the music gives me strength. It quells my doubt.

But you do not feel what we feel, if you doubt your pain and question everything.

I feel what you feel in my own way. When I lay my head on the breast of my mother and weep from joy and gratitude at the gift of life she gave me, I feel what you feel when I play the music. But I do not feel the music as you do.

What do you feel when you play?

I see patterns of structure, puzzles laid out by the composer, shapes and form, lines and colors. I see how I must fit into that puzzle. I have many choices, but only a few good ones. I struggle to play effortlessly. I am a machine, a thinking machine, adjusting constantly to fit into the puzzle and become nothing but the composers dream.

But what do you feel?

I do not feel. I calculate, I listen, I sense. But I am not there to feel. If I feel, then I am lost.

Then why do we feel what you do not?

You feel what I do not because I do not allow myself to feel it. I give up my feeling so you may have it.

(the voices recede. the violet light fades above his stand. he is alone. he continues his practice, shaping the perfect phrases of Mozart’s perfect music. he is content.)

Inspired by the poem-
The Man with the Blue Guitar
by Wallace Stevens

The Spirit of Performing

When performing music, I have to balance a “subjective” interpretation from an “objective” one. This means I need to pay attention to the notes on the page and composer’s markings as much as my own interpretation of them. But both parts of the interpretation are important to good music making. The spirit of the music must be recreated, not just the notes and markings.

This week I had some trouble with my reeds warping. Those little pieces of cane don’t like the dry weather of approaching winter. So it feels like I’m going to squawk all the time. Not a pleasant feeling when you need to be relaxed to phrase beautifully. A squeak on a clarinet is not a pretty thing. EVERYONE hears it. I used to have a giggling fit when ever someone squeaked. Now, as a pro, I look innocent, hoping everyone thinks it’s my stand partner who did it. UGH!

Preparing for a Concerto

As an orchestral clarinetist, I don’t play concertos very often. I do it more often than others in my orchestra, but it’s by choice. There is no obligation to do so. My job is as a principal orchestral player, which has its own set of challenges specific to the job. I could be content to play from within the orchestra, but I like to be out front once in awhile.

On the other hand, there are many clarinetists who solo exclusively, such as Richard Stoltzman. Once, while having a drink with him after he played a concerto with us a few years back, he said something like this to me, “I wish I had the skill to play in an orchestra like you. I became a soloist because I didn’t get a symphony gig”. Mind you, this was meant as a light and supportive comment to me. He is made to be a soloist, and I am quite sure he is every bit as much or more skilled as I to play in an orchestra. The point is, it’s a specialization, like being a medical researcher versus being a doctor. Both are skilled in medicine, but one is more public.

Playing a concerto is a very different experience from playing in the orchestra. Not better or worse, just different. The feeling is more exhilarating, but also more stressful. The playing position is usually standing, not sitting, which changes the way the instrument feels as I play. Even the approach to sound is different, more open and “soloistic”. By contrast, as a principal clarinetist, where I also get to “solo” from within the orchestra, the feeling is usually more reserved so as to blend better. Think of two paintings, one of a really cool looking cat, the other has a cool cat somewhere in the painting with people and furniture and books around it. I’m still the cool cat in each, but less prominent in one.

The pressure of concerto-ing is higher, much higher. After all you are standing out there right in front with everyone staring at you, rather than sitting, somewhat hidden about halfway back in the orchestra. Preparing a concerto is also far more time consuming than orchestral music. In my case, this is partly because I am much more familiar with orchestral music than concertos, since it’s my regular job. So the preparation is intense and long. It usually starts many months in advance. I pick apart the piece and focus on the really difficult passages, breaking them into manageable mini-projects which I slowly build back together.

To hone my musical ideas, I listen to several recordings of reputable soloists, taking style from those players and forming my own interpretation from them. While learning the piece, I allow my imagination to run free with the interpretation, taking far more liberty in my phrasing that I would in the final performance. This is to encourage my muse to be creative. I find this is necessary to help break free of the habitual constraints of playing orchestral repertoire. In that case, I am interpreting only a small part under the larger interpretation of a conductor’s.
Sometimes I hire a pianist to rehearse with, to get a feel for interacting with the accompaniment.

Yet, as a concerto soloist, one has more liberty to create a style which matches one’s ability. Many factors are the choice of the soloist. Obviously the selection of a particular concerto is one. Otherwise there is the choice of tempos, the amount of rhythmic freedom, the amount of dynamic contrast, etc. Naturally, a soloist should emphasize his or her best features. If he is a more expressive player, the tempo can be set accordingly. If pyrotechnics is her specialty, then the style is set accordingly. Here again, as an orchestral player, I need to adjust my attitude toward having more control over the interpretation. But the resulting freedom can be very gratifying.

As the final days before the first rehearsal approach, I meditate on the music I will play. I hear it in my head, sometimes to the point of madness. Little snippets will run in a playback loop, over and over and over. But, thinking about the piece, getting one’s mind around it, is as important as actual practice. When I play, I will go over the most tricky spots, playing slowly, cultivating a calm physical and mental attitude. I often say to myself, like a mantra, “You know this piece, you can play it, your fingers can play it. Trust yourself”. It’s so easy to become frantic as the day approaches.

I had one stressful incident in my preparation for a concerto recently. I had stayed up quite late working on reeds. (another post altogether) I placed the reeds on my practice table, cleaned the cat litter box, put out the trash for morning pickup, and went to bed. I acknowledged that I should have started working on those reeds a few days earlier to have them stabilize by the performance. (reeds, made plant cane, need several days to adjust to being wet and played) The next morning, the reeds were missing, gone. I looked all over the house, near the cat box, in the bathroom, in the trash, outside. I don’t have a dog, so I only had myself to blame.:) In my fatigue, I must have inadvertently thrown them out with the cat litter and trash, which was then picked up the next morning.

Now I was really behind. I had to spend several more hours that day getting enough reeds going to give me a decent choice before the performance. A delicately timed schedule is easily upset.

Getting the right reed is crucial. Ideally, I can get on stage just before the first rehearsal to test my reeds and pick the one which flourishes in the hall. Our hall needs a full, resonant sound. It’s difficult to pick a reed for that in my small living room where I practice.

After the first rehearsal of the piece, I can usually begin to enjoy the whole event. I say begin to enjoy. It’s not over yet. However, many of the unknowns are now known. I know how the piece feels live, I know how my reeds are doing, or not doing, I know how the conductor will follow me, I know how I’ll interpret the piece. I also know there’s not a whole lot more preparation I can do. Back to the little mantra above, “Trust Yourself.”

Now, my focus is to stay primed and calm, ready and poised. I care for my body and smile a lot at my Muse, for that’s who will transform me from a person playing a concerto into a musician playing music. It’s a world of difference.

Imagine Playing

When I was learning the Mozart Clarinet Concerto for a performance years ago, I practiced as I jogged. I heard and felt the piece in my body phrase by phrase, back-wards from the end to the beginning. This practice also helped me memorize it. While my body flowed and loosened during jogging, the beautiful music played through me. Without the instrument, I was able to idealize how I wanted it to sound when I played.

If you don’t have the sound and the music in your ear, your body won’t know how to get there, what to do. No teacher can teach a student who doesn’t hear what they want to sound like, who they want to sound like. No teacher can teach a student to love a phrase of music beautifully played by a great musician.

If you want to become a musician, listen to recordings. Fall in love with them, live them, breathe them. Go to concerts and find what you love about the music and the performance. Yearn for the satisfaction of hearing music played beautifully. Let your ear sing and play with the music as you hear it. Feel it in your body as you enjoy it.

Listen carefully. Listen critically. Watch closely, if it’s live. By critically I don’t mean finding mistakes. I mean hearing detail. How does rhythm emphasize the shape of a phrase? How is pitch used? How is vibrato used? How does the body express the music? How is tone used?

Imagine these things with your body. Imagine being that musician as they play. Become them in your mind.

When practicing, let go of your judgments. Keep the ideal in your ear. Let your body flow toward that ideal. Relax into that flow.

Now you are ready for a lesson. Now a teacher can help you learn.

Even for professionals, hearing before playing is essential.