Question: “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?” Answer: “Practice, practice, practice!”
Note: The PDF lesson (for both tenor and plectrum banjo) has now been added at the bottom of this blog.
I have never been a good practicer…
I take that back! When I was in college—paying to take classes—I was a very good practicer on the clarinet. In addition to the financial motivation, my brutally honest clarinet professor pissed me off at our first meeting: he told me “I’ll work with you, but you’ll be changing majors by next semester.” Sure—at the age of 31 and having had no prior Classical training—I was way behind his other students, but that didn’t matter to me. Whether he intended to or not I’ll never know, but he certainly struck a nerve and fired me up!
To make a long story short, by the end of the first semester, I was his favorite student (simply because I practiced and came to my weekly lessons prepared!), and by the end of the first year he grudgingly gave me an A- (his signal that he would continue to work with me). By the third year, I had worked my way up to being the “Principal 2nd Clarinet” in the top wind ensemble (one of the best in the Pacific Northwest). All because I was pissed off! If I had quit, he would have been right.
For the first three years of college, I practiced the clarinet 2-3 hours a day. But I still struggled with it, and ultimately never advanced beyond the basic minimum requirements of an Army audition. It is still far from a “natural” instrument for me; it is my third favorite instrument, behind the banjo and the saxophone (my most-natural instrument). Though I still play in the Community band, I have little interest in practicing it anymore. Somebody needs to play 2nd or 3rd!
I got bored practicing the clarinet that much, but it was also frustrating; it’s not too hard to play but is difficult to play well. Even when I didn’t feel like practicing any longer, I kept at it because I always had that next lesson to worry about. There were times when I actually enjoyed practicing; significantly, that was often somewhere in my third hour of practicing! It’s like suddenly I’d forget my troubles and everything would become easy, and I felt a personal connection to the clarinet. If I could bottle that feeling, I’d be a millionaire!
The point I’m trying to make is that you can never practice too much. I have struggled for years trying to be similarly motivated to practice the banjo; I rarely feel like I practice enough. The motivation provided by learning new songs has grown thin. I am trying to transition to an emphasis on technique; that’s how it’s done in the Classical world. I realize with some dismay that my window for technical improvement is finite; I’m not getting any younger! Even when I start to slow down, I’ll still be able to learn new songs, so let’s get the technical work done while I still can!
I try to imagine how much better I could be “if only I would practice more.” But that then becomes a negative motivator, and it makes me wonder; “was my clarinet practice done for negative reasons? False motivations?” Did I do it because I liked the clarinet, or was it simply to salvage my wounded ego?
Toward these ends, I’m working on developing a banjo practice strategy that actually works—one that I (we) will enjoy. Of course, it ultimately comes down to personal motivation, but what kind of things will maintain or even increase that motivation? We are each unique, so can one “universal” routine work for everyone?
You’d think that the prospect of getting better on the banjo would be sufficient motivation, but sometimes it just isn’t. I would love to hear what you do for motivation. Here is the idea that I’m working on:
Combining Concepts
What if we combine two or more concepts to multiply the learning and make it more interesting and effective? Let me give a simple example: If I wisely advised you to “practice the Circle of 5ths,” how would you do that? Is there a “method” for practicing that thing, or is it just a matter of reading, and then trying to apply it? Perhaps most-importantly, is there any actual use for it, or is it just a cool thing to learn? You’ve probably heard it’s important to learn, but just how do you do that and why?
Here’s another example: “Practice your chord shapes.” Again, how do you do that? Repetition is the key to learning and improving anything, but how do you “repeat” a chord shape? Just keep playing the same shape over and over again? That sounds exciting (not!)! Of course, this is why we learn songs, so we have a reason for repeating chord shapes until we’ve internalized them. So, is it then “practicing the song,” or “practicing the chord shapes?”
Now, what would happen if we figured out a way to practice the Circle and the chord shape, all in one simple exercise? Chord shapes for me are much more than just a static finger position: I can hear the voicing of each chord shape and where it’s leading me, and I instinctively know the “function” that static chord voicing serves, and how it is used in dynamic music. Those things are enabled and literally set in motion by the Circle. I think it should be known more as “chord voicing that goes somewhere,” and less as “chord shapes that go nowhere.”
Each momentary finger position leads to the next chord and the next, and so on; it doesn’t just stay in one place. Chord Melody is just one block chord shape after another, with no regard or “set-up” for where it’s going; how do you go beyond that limiting concept? Do you have any idea what the other non-melody notes of the chords are there for? This has always come naturally for me; the flipside of that naturalness is that I take it for granted (as a “gift,” I suppose it is “granted”) and have no idea how to teach it to someone who’s not so blessed. How do I teach that as an important concept to not just know, but to also feel?
As I’ve learned what to practice and how, I have increasingly put it all into a Circle of 5ths context. It just seems natural, and it forces me to practice one thing over and over again—the way it’s supposed to be practiced. Practicing a technique in all 12 keys is the real kicker; the side quest for mastery of the Circle leads to mastery of both. And before this revelation, I didn’t even know how to “practice” the Circle—other than studying it. What a confidence-builder, to know that you can function in any key that you—or someone else (like a band leader, for example)—can dish out! Did I mention that increased confidence would be one of the results of effective practice?
A beginner may be intimidated by the very idea of all 12 keys and consider it to be “too much-too soon,” but remember, it’s still just simple chord shapes! So, I ask that you humor me a bit: please give this experimental lesson an honest try, no matter your ability level. I have provided it for both tenor and plectrum tuning. It’s just simple chord shapes—the ones you should know anyway; trust me, if you have played for more than a day, you know them. The Circle adds a slight degree of difficulty, but just follow the directions, and you’ll get it. It may take more than one attempt and that’s okay; remember, it’s all about repetition. Consider it to be a chord shape exercise until the Circle also starts to sink in.
Even if this proves to be old hat for you, I would like to hear your thoughts regarding how appropriate it is for a beginner, and/or how it could be juiced up a bit to fit your needs. The lessons will naturally become more difficult as they progress. Remember, this isn’t about learning songs; it’s about learning technique and theory which you then apply to songs. It isn’t about “learning the banjo”; it’s about learning music.
Ultimately, I believe these lessons will act as a preliminary lesson for A Modal Framework for Jazz Improvisation. They will show how to apply simple chord shapes to the lessons of the book.
The bottom line is, I’m trying to figure out how to raise the bar for all of us; I could use some help and feedback on this quest!
Here is the PDF for plectrum:
And for tenor: