One topic of conversation that I have with a lot of musicians, educators, and students is the balance between humility and confidence. A few months ago I was with the great saxophonist/composer/musician Dave Liebman and he summed it up—“it takes a lot of confidence and ego to get up and play music in front of people.” I have a poster in my teaching studio that reminds students that mistakes are part of our musical process and we need to embrace them as part of our own artistic growth.
Years ago, I studied briefly with the legendary pianist Paul Bley, who told all of his students to record and release their first album as soon as possible. He clearly stated his reason—everyone’s first album is terrible! He encouraged us to put out our first album, embrace the fact that it was not going to be great, then follow it with albums that are of the quality that is more reflective of our abilities.
The issue that most people would have with Paul Bley’s advice is this would be considered risky. Most musicians simply do not want to publicly release music that could be humiliating. On the other hand, maybe Bley is right. John Coltrane’s first recording doesn’t really sound as great as he was to become. Miles Davis’s earliest recording is not reflective of his otherworldliness either. There is the often-told story of drummer Jo Jones throwing a cymbal at a young, underdeveloped Charlie Parker to force him to stop his solo and get off the stage.
Maybe it is better advice to young musicians to delineate the difference between performance and practice. Not every band practice should be a performance. When I was a middle school band teacher, I told my school principal that I did not want to rehearse the band in a high-traffic area in the school where the students would constantly feel like they were putting on a performance.
Finding “low stakes ways to practice things you want to get good at”
The Hidden Brain podcast this week centers around the work of Lauren Eskreis-Winkler and how we can learn from our mistakes. Part of her interview accounts her brief stint as a concert pianist and a failed audition at Curtis Institute (which by the way apparently has about a 2% acceptance rate). After her “failure” as a musician (was it really a failure?), she has become a successful researcher of Psychology at Northwestern University.
The most intriguing research that she presented in the show was her research about improving her own scientific writing by practicing with research abstracts written by Martin Seligman. Her process was to write bullet points of Seligman’s abstracts, stash her own notes, then return to them a week later. She would then write an abstract of her bullet points and compare it with Seligman’s original abstract. Through this self-guided process, she could provide feedback on her own writing with a comparison of the original abstract with her own.
This particular writing exercise seems so reflective of a musical improvisational process to me. Similarly, we could take notes on the harmonic approach that artist X takes on a solo over the chord changes of the tune Y. Then we could write or record a solo over the tune and compare our own work to the original recording. Using this process, we could easily critique our own musical phrasing.
Failing in the Dark
Eikreis-Winkler gives another example of how one could learn chess by studying the moves of Garry Kasparov. Instead of paying thousands of dollars for lessons with a chess master, simply find the published recounts of chess matches and create your own simulation. Not only does this save thousands of dollars, but it is a way to “fail in the dark” — meaning privately fail instead of risking failing in front of other people.
This wisdom really is very much in line with the masters of the jazz tradition. The great composer George Russell told me that if I wanted to understand Ornette Coleman’s music, I would just as well or better understand it by transcribing his albums than trying to speak with Ornette about his music.
I often think of ways to “fail in the dark” and I encourage my students to do the same.
How to Fail in the Dark Musically
We need to practice in seclusion or at least in a place that is somewhat private. I tell all of my students that practice in a dorm is not really practice because they know someone is listening. They need to practice for themselves instead of practicing to impress others.
I hear a lot of students in the hallways at school playing. They are not practicing because:
1. They are playing their instruments in a public space, people are listening, and they are aware that people are listening.
2. More often than not, I hear a tune or a classical movement played from start to finish, which is not practice. Real practice is isolating sections or small segments of music.Transcription
Playing a transcription is emulating another artist, assimilating their sound and style, and taking on the personality of another artist.Recording ourselves
One of my favorite things to do is to record myself and listen back. This is what I listen for to improve:
-tone quality (approaches to tone, which mouthpiece sounds best, etc.)
-phrasing (length, placement, etc.)
-phrasing with respect to harmonic devices used (how to best use unique harmonic structures)
-the pacing of a solo
-rhythmic placement (is the phrase on top or behind the beat)
-articulation (is the articulation clear, too much tongue, etc.)Pre-planning and writing out solos
This is a great way to fail in the comfort of your own practice room! Experiment with phrasing, harmonic structures, rhythmic approaches, etc.Mitigating anxiety
I think that anxiety is a formidable issue with musicians. I have heard of symphonic musicians that need beta blockers to handle the pressure. I know many people do not talk about this, but sometimes anxiety requires professional medical attention. I know some other people who handle anxiety with yoga or meditation. Here are the ways that I handle anxiety:practicing every day to feel comfortable on the instrument
being prepared for gigs
making checklists of what to practice (or what to take to the gig)
practicing SLOWLY
using a metronome and practicing things I already know slowly
isolating difficult sections of music
practicing stamina (for both mind and body)
practicing long solos by playing for 8 minutes nonstop
working hard for 20 minutes at a time before taking a break
memorizing as much as possible — forms, chord changes, etc.
allowing mistakes in practice!
I am very curious about what other things people are doing to practice “failing in the dark” and I encourage everyone to embrace their failures!