The first bucket collects the sumptuous, brilliant "correct" notes you play. Even some of the notes you wish to play differently may be technically correct. They go into the first bucket as well. One at a time the correct notes collect, tipping the scale away from the empty bucket.
On occasion, we tend to play "wrong" notes. Physics, physiology, and psychology rear their ugly heads* during performance to prove their worth. As a result, rogue notes happen. In the second bucket are a handful of these musical malfunctions.
Think back to your last live performance.
You surely had the first bucket overflowing with good notes, the second with a few others.
However, we tend to give so much more weight to the wrong notes and ultimately create a psychological impairment that spirals into chaos.
To be clear, 95% right notes, or an A does not make for a good performance. A greater percentage is generally required, as demonstrated around 2:25 here. This is a bit of an extreme example.
Think back to the last live performance you attended. It's incredibly likely you heard wrong notes. At the same time, I hope you heard a well prepared, passionate performance.
Remember, your goal is to keep an overall perspective and prevent the dangerous cycle of focusing on the occasional clammed note.
To accomplish this, two separate personalities are required- one for the practice room and one for the stage.
The first analyzes, the second demonstrates without passing judgment. Learning versus sharing. As you exit the learning phase, practice the performance phase. When it becomes time to take the stage, you are focused on what matters. (More on this in future blog posts).
Sharpen your awareness on what you're trying to say musically and the number of notes in each bucket will cease to be relevant.
The scale is already tilting in your favor. Trust the process.
Inspired by William Allaudin Mathieu and his wonderful books.
*Much love to my colleagues in the ugly-headed disciplines
Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com
1 comment:
I vividly remember driving home (a long drive, plenty of thinking time)after one of my first concerts as a new member of the late lamented Sacramento Symphony. I'd played well, gotten lots of kudos, but there was one note -- one note! -- that hadn't been all I could have wished. It wasn't a wrong note, per se, but it wasn't at all successful by my standards. All I could think about was that one note. Since then, with a little perspective, I've imagined that conversation with myself, that ONE NOTE a huge presence over my head, and all the thousands of successful notes that I'd played on the SAME CONCERT in a cast-off heap on the ground, their worth entirely dismissed.
It is amazing what we do to ourselves. Thanks for a great post.
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