Aye, that is the question… Why do I think so much? Why do I let my thinking interfere with my music? And why write a blog about it, thereby proving that I do indeed think too much? Well, to begin with, I’m sure I’m not the only one to have this “problem.”
I know that if I would just think less and play more, I could be a better musician. But thinking—as in music theory—is also a viable way to become a better “musician.” Maybe I should say a better “performer?” The bottom line is that the kind of musician I want to be requires lots of thinking. I am fascinated with music theory! I love it when something I have learned through study manifests itself in my playing. I also like to sound like I’ve thought things through instead of just wiggling my fingers and hoping for the best.
I believe that I would have thrived in a serious-minded, Classical music environment. I believe I was supposed to have been a concert pianist or cellist. All things considered, the kind of serious-minded, thinking adult that I have become would have been better suited to that paradigm.
But instead, the banjo was my childhood reality. Don’t get me wrong: I love my simple banjo band background! I just think there were limits to the musicality of it. Classical music would have better served my personality. All I know is that I’m now overly serious about the banjo, and that I’m trying to use it to satisfy that instinct.
On the surface, the instrument certainly has its limitations, but what better incentive to thrive in spite of its supposed simplicity? I remember Buddy Wachter telling me that he is “just a musician who chose to play the banjo.” He could have played anything he wanted (indeed, he does play many other instruments at a high level), but he liked the challenge of making music on the banjo.
So, not thinking: I don’t seem to have “it,” whatever that magic ingredient is that allows some musicians to just go on automatic and trust their spontaneous instincts. I believe this is a case of “you either have it or you don’t.” My desire to be correct and not play “bad notes” overpowers any sense of spontaneity that I may have. This pretty well describes me in general; I’m a naturally cautious person, in everything I do. And yes, there are such things as “good notes” in jazz—or at least “better” notes!
Of course, I would love to be able to change that personality trait! I honestly believe that someday I will be able to just “let go and let it happen,” at least in music. But the thinking part of me again likes correct notes and logic.
In the rare moments when I’ve been able to go on automatic (playing tenor sax in a modern jazz combo), I found that I was then limited by my level of knowledge of the instrument. The sax is my most “natural” instrument, but I never practice it. Even when I was letting go, it always left me thinking “gee, if I just knew my scales and arpeggios better, I might be a better improviser!”
So, the “solution” that I have come up with—one that fits my serious personality and my desire to improvise jazz—is to train my thinking to keep up with my fingers (or is it the other way around?). If I can achieve that, just imagine what will happen if and when I do learn to let go!
By actually learning to play the things that I hear in my head with my hands (what a concept!), I believe that my head will eventually step aside and let my heart lead the way. It is frustrating to hear those wonderful things go by in my head without being able to react fast enough to play them in real-time.
If you could only hear what I hear…perhaps someday you’ll be able to.