“Teach a person to play a song, and they’ll play for a day; teach a person to play music, and they’ll play for a lifetime.”
I realize that I occasionally need to clarify my personal motives regarding the banjo. I have never been satisfied with the notion of “proficiency”; for whatever reason, my perhaps-unrealistic goal is “mastery.” I am less interested in “learning songs,” and more interested in doing amazing things with those songs (i.e., improvising). The question is, “mastery at the level I seem capable of at the moment, or unlimited mastery—meaning going beyond what I think I’m capable of?” I do often wish that I could be satisfied with the status quo (accept myself as I am), but I refuse to believe that I have given the subject everything I can or am capable of; the moment I relax and lower my personal standards is the moment I stop moving forward.
I know that a lot of this is in rebound against my childhood low self-esteem and laziness, where I considered hard work to be unnecessary for happiness; I’m trying to make up for squandered time (those were the years when I had the best shot at realizing my true potential).
I once turned in a math test with “it’s not worth the effort” written across the top of it in lieu of answers. I’ve often thought that could have been a turning point for me if I had had a good teacher; instead, I had a mediocre teacher who simply made me an embarrassing bad example to the rest of the class. This missed “teachable moment” opportunity (by the teacher) is one reason I decided to become a teacher myself; if I could reach one lost young soul (like myself), it would be worth it.
As a child and young adult, I was unable to entertain lofty goals, simply because I didn’t believe in myself. In the first place, I was so wrapped up in my own troubles that I was blind to the possibilities. But even if I had been aware of the possibilities, I would not have thought that I was capable of reaching them. The turning point came at the age of 28; I had just gotten back into the banjo after 10 years away from it, and went to my first banjo show.
To make a long story short, by the end of it I realized that I could be doing that too (playing solo). In fact, I was quite mad at myself because I realized the only difference between me and the “stars” of that show was that I didn’t believe in myself, and was too shy to get on stage all alone. Sitting next to my young daughter, I realized that I was on the road to “teaching” her the same childhood lessons that I had had—and that shamed me into action. I wanted her to have a better life-script example to follow.
Four months later, I met and heard Buddy Wachter for the first time—and the dye was cast! I have long believed that if I had not been fresh off of the previous eye-opening experience, I might not have had the same reaction to Buddy; I probably would have just shrugged him off as “over my head.” As it is, I still consider this to have been the turning point in my life—a true “life-changing” experience.
My first unrealistic thought was “hey, I can do that!” The fact that I have not managed to come anywhere near Buddy’s skill in the 32 years since does bother me a bit, but I am coming to grips with it. I also realize that I am much further along now than I would have been if I had never been inspired by him. Perhaps I’ve set out too lofty a goal for myself? The important point is, those lofty goals have dragged me higher up the mountain than I would have gotten without them.
As I age—and get closer and closer to the point of diminishing returns—I am entering the reflection/reconciliation phase. I have many years of improvement left in me of course, but I realize it will be increasingly in the form of musical quality than outright physical fireworks. But the fireworks were what really caught my attention! At 28, I had yet to become educated in music, and was enthralled more by Buddy’s un-human (more like un-copiable) technical skills than anything else. At any rate, I have gradually become more realistic about the possibilities and am actively working to maximize “what I can, while I can.”
My personal goals as a musician have morphed into a “mission” to present the banjo itself as being more capable than what we as a whole have shown so far. Buddy should not be the anomaly that he is! Many of us have been “inspired” by him, but few have been “influenced” by him. As far as I’m concerned, he should be the gold standard of banjo playing. I refuse to believe that he is any more special than any of us though; he just got started early—and believed in himself—and had the good fortune of being tutored by many of the greats of his time.
In short, the mastery that he and a few others display should be an inspiration for us all to go beyond proficiency. “Fun” is cool and all (and should never be forgotten), but that doesn’t do much for those—like me—who strive for more (young potential players who have shown Buddy-esque skills or at least determination on other instruments, for example).
Ask yourself “am I resistant to scales [for example] because I don’t think I’m capable of them, or just because I don’t think they’re important?” Could your short-term goal (say, being able to play 5’2” in chord melody) be helped out by an immersion in scales/arpeggios et. al.? In other words, is it more important to your advancement to learn to play a song, or to learn to play music? I think you know where I stand on that question.