My nickname in High School—at least the one I actually liked among several—was “The Fishman.” I was obsessed with fishing, and was lucky to live a lure’s cast away from a good trout river (it would take me years to realize just how lucky I had been!).
Significantly, as much time as I spent knee deep in my river, I spent more in my room, reading Outdoor Life and Field and Stream magazines. They told glorious stories about rivers and lakes in faraway lands where the fish were bigger and more plentiful than in my humble stream. This “grass is always greener” mentality pervaded everything I did or thought at that age.
On my recently completed three-week vacation (I love retirement!), I got to check off two of those prime bucket list fishing destinations; The Northwest Territories, and Yellowstone National Park. To make a long story short, I was almost completely skunked in each place, save for one 6-inch brook trout on my last day in the park. I had managed to catch dinner in another location in between those two paradises, so all is not lost.
The long intervals of non-success gave me ample time to contemplate the world and my place in it; of course, my thoughts turned to the banjo, which I had been purposely avoiding during the trip. I began to realize (with new clarity) that technique and knowledge mean nothing without application.
I am a very good fly caster, and I have extensive knowledge of fish thanks to my childhood obsession. What I lack is application skills (this was a very different type of fishing than what I grew up with). While I was trying in vain to entice those pan-sized rainbows to take my awkwardly presented fly (the wrong one of course!), I realized that an expert could elbow me aside and fool the 10-pound brown trout that lurked beneath. This was a great source of consternation to this overly-serious guy! That frustration led me to turn my focus back to the banjo, with its similar frustrations.
I have spent a lot of time these last few years learning scales, arpeggios, etc., and then writing blogs about how important they are to learn. I am often asked the very good question, “why is this stuff so important?” I’ve been getting closer to the ideal explanation, but until I find a teachable application for them (and convincingly show my personal benefit from them), my only logical answer is “because I said so!” The same can be said for knowledge; I have a degree in music education after all! I know a thing or two about music! None of that matters though, without application.
I have been hoping in vain that my hard work and study would eventually pay off in the level of playing that I dream of. I now realize though—more than ever—that until I crack the code of application (through lots of focused practice of course!) that dream will likely never come to fruition.
So, consider this to be a manifesto for change; I hereby resolve to switch my focus from technique and knowledge to application! I will crack this code—and even if I don’t, I know my playing will improve in the process. As always, I will share every step of the journey in the best teaching way that I can concoct; I invite you to join me!