I am still on a “New Year’s Resolution” kick at the moment, so I want to make hay while the sun shines.
I have written a lot over the years about practice strategies/motivation for a simple reason: I struggle with it every day! You aren’t the only one who needs the encouragement! The things I write about were first developed for my own benefit; if it works for me, then I am happy to share it with others. My own improvement is not my only motivation; I’m concerned for your improvement as well!
This is because I care, but is also because I’m concerned about the mainstream image and future of the plectrum banjo itself. I want it to be presented in such a way that it will attract new players; the better it’s played, the more attractive it will be. I have always been attracted to virtuoso players, the kind you can close your eyes and listen to, and not be overly concerned with how they look on stage. I’d like to have a hand in creating/inspiring more virtuosos.
Yes of course, it’s important in the beginning to find a group of like-minded, non-judgmental folks with whom you can just sit and strum simple songs. That is the true magic of banjo bands and banjo convention jam sessions. The ukulele world is similarly democratic. I will be forever grateful for the loving and supportive banjo club setting that I grew up in. If that is your goal, well then, more power to you!
At some point though, if you want to continue improving and/or become a soloist, you have to become concerned with what other critical, non-banjo-loving listeners and musicians think about your music. This broader-world bravery has been the hardest step for me. I have learned to take their criticism with a grain of salt, but pleasing them is still a strong motivator. I of course prefer praise over criticism, but I—we—need both! Tell me the musical truth!
The hardest step in improvement is simply knowing “what” one should practice. Once that is established, the next trick is in figuring out “how” to practice. Hopefully—somewhere along the way—we see and appreciate the results of this practice, thereby learning “why” to practice! That’s one of the simplest equations you can imagine: no practice = no improvement. What more motivation do we really need?
Using my own experience as an example: When I first got truly motivated to improve (after hearing Buddy Wachter play—who wouldn’t be motivated by that?), I started learning songs that would challenge me to learn new things; it was the only method I knew at that time. That strategy worked really well for me for many years, but ultimately was not enough. Learning a new song arrangement is hard work—and playing it “perfectly” in front of people is nerve-wracking!
It should be noted that when I first started as a soloist, I was painfully shy; just getting on stage by myself was quite the feat—which of course is why I had to do it! My misguided dream of “playing like Buddy” (which I thankfully got over long ago) required that I get past my irrational and debilitating shyness. I also wanted to be a positive example for my then-four-year-old daughter. I still get nervous, but at least I now look forward to being on stage.
I have never considered myself to be much of an “entertainer”; striving to be a better “musician” has been my focus. No, I cannot smile while playing! It comes across as fake, and distracts me from the difficult task at hand. Listen to my music instead of watching my entertainment.
I got by as a stage soloist for many years on a dozen worked-up arrangements; when I discovered the “Classic” style 10 years ago, I finally added another couple dozen pieces. Sure, they showed that I was technically proficient and could play music, but did they make me a musician? They did nothing for my ultimate goal of simply being able to play what I hear, when I hear it.
Writing my latest book—A Modal Framework for Jazz Improvisation—was a great exercise that I am just beginning to benefit from! Developing new exercises to teach the concepts taught me the “what” and “how” of practice: instead of learning song arrangements, I now concentrate on the individual techniques and patterns that go into them. I already know enough “songs”; now it’s time to work on “music”—thus my favorite paraphrased quote:
“Teach a person to play a song and they’ll play for a day; teach them to play music and they’ll play for a lifetime.”
The ultimate goal is to have those techniques and patterns learned so well that I can insert them into songs at will—in real time. In other words, “make it up as I go.” Or as they say, “arrangements on the fly.” I have certainly noticed a difference in how I play in a jam session setting.
Sure, I have always been able to play hundreds of simple chord melody songs, but in my old-fashioned view, that does not put us in a solo chair on stage at a banjo convention. That is an opportunity to show what I—and the banjo—can do at that moment in time. That’s why I play such difficult music for my act; I want to show the banjo off as a fully-capable musical instrument, and not just a fun entertainment device.
It’s one thing to learn a technique, and a whole-nuther thing to apply it to actual music! It’s also boring to practice a technique by itself: “Okay, I’ve done it a few times, now what?” Of course, you have to do something many times to make it a habit. So, what you have to do is put the technique into a musical setting—something that will inspire you to practice the same thing over and over again. I am working on a new, progressive (basic to advanced) lesson using simple chords; it’s main function will be to provide a practical framework for how to practice any technique. That should be out soon. Meanwhile, keep up the hard work!