I can play it perfectly when nobody is listening, I promise!
When somebody is listening, I’m suddenly painfully aware of problems with my playing that I ignored in the practice room.
I can play it, just not with the metronome.
I can play the correct pitches in the correct order, but not with enough fluency to put each note where it belongs in time. In other words, I can’t play it.
Right now I’m just trying to get the notes. I’ll add in the dynamics and articulations later.
I might eventually get the “notes,” but don’t bet on me ever observing any of the other markings.
The thing is, I’m just not good at _____ (rhythms, high notes, low notes, technical passages, lyrical passages, dynamic contrasts…).
I wish to be excused from improving my playing.
This _____ (etude, repertoire piece, technical exercise…) is boring.
The way I’m playing it is boring.
I practiced until I got it right!
I played it wrong 99 times, then right once. Guess which will happen in my lesson, rehearsal, or performance?
If you follow me on Twitter (@woodwindninja) you know I have not been a terribly active tweeter, mostly just auto-tweets of my newest blog posts. But I have started up an additional account, @woodwindtips, which I encourage you to check out for several-times-per-day tips on woodwind playing. Enjoy!
Welcome to the second installment of the Internet forum field guide, a look at the inhabitants of the various woodwind-related message boards, forums, and email lists. (Read the first chapter here.) Today we will examine how the indigenous wildlife deal with conflicts.
One of the most common sources of conflict is the introduction of a dangerous threat into the community. It generally starts with an honest question:
Hey guys, just wondering which alloy gives an instrument a darker sound: 93% silver with 7% copper, or 97% silver with 3% copper? Thanks in advance.
Enter the troublemaker
Suddenly the herd’s status quo is endangered, unthinkably, by one of its own:
Well, actually, it turns out there’s over 100 years of well-documented, peer-reviewed scientific research that says the material makes no significant difference to the sound of a wind instrument. I know this because I went to the library and read actual books and journal articles about it.
The herd stampedes
This kind of affront is clearly unacceptable to the community, and they respond swiftly to correct the errant behavior. The alpha male is often the first to weigh in:
I have been playing for 40 years with some groups whose names you think you vaguely recognize, and I say the material does make a difference, so that should pretty much settle it.
He is followed shortly by a rival who will try to discredit the original poster:
A couple of years ago I introduced my Reedcast™ tool on this site, which uses my proprietary software code to predict reed quality for oboe, clarinet, bassoon, and saxophone based on environmental factors:
I have spent the past few months compiling and studying as much research as I could gather about environmental factors’ effects on woodwind reeds, and developing an algorithm to process this information into reed quality “forecasts.” It’s not perfect, of course, but so far I have found it to do a surprisingly satisfactory job.
Today I’m pleased to announce the release of version 2.0. Reedcast™ is now more accurate than ever before, and has a polished new look as well. Go try it out, and have a great reed day!
I’m back from the outstanding NNFA regional conference, where I spent the week rubbing shoulders (or should I say noses?) with over 700 very fine musicians from the Southeastern US.
I gave a brief presentation on my Fingering Diagram Builder and its potential applications to the instrument’s pedagogy. I think that’s an interesting problem, considering, well, you know, and I fielded some questions on the topic and got some excellent input.
But mostly I was there to learn, and learn I did. I attended workshops on vibrato, Baroque ornamentation, nasal hygiene, and building a private studio. I also audited several masterclasses, and, of course, attended fabulous evening concerts. Thursday was “jazz night” at a downtown club, and I worked up the nerve to take a few choruses on “Donna Lee” during the open jam portion. Of course, I usually play jazz on saxophone, so this was definitely outside my comfort zone!
The vendor exhibits were a conference hotspot, as usual, and I must have tried several dozen instruments. The usual makers and retailers were there, but I was also very surprised to see Conn-Selmer; they are apparently entering the market in a big way, and held a fancy reception to celebrate their new line. I tried a few and I think they have a solid intermediate-level “horn” which should do pretty well if they price it reasonably.
I hadn’t planned to buy an instrument, but I fell in love with this model from Trophy and ended up bringing it home. The one pictured has a red finish, but as I am fairly conservative about my instruments’ appearance I picked out a classy purple. I find that the purple has an appealing depth of tone but doesn’t lose anything in terms of response.
I hope to see some of you at the national conference next year in Des Moines. Last year’s national had attendance of almost 4,000 and some really incredible concert headliners. Join the National Nose Flute Association
Okay, folks, hang onto your hats: I have stumbled onto what appears to be some truly weird news about things going on at Rico Reeds.
I use Google Alerts to keep track of lots of woodwind-related topics on the web. Most days they don’t turn up anything especially interesting, but this morning I awoke to an alert of a new patent, just filed by Rico. Check it out here. [UPDATE: The PDF appears to have been removed from Google Patents. Rico must have connections!] [UPDATE #2: I managed to retrieve a partial copy of it from my web browser cache. Here it is.] It appears to describe double-ended clarinet and saxophone reeds. Yes, you read that correctly.
I assumed at first that the filing of this patent must be some kind of odd business practice required by Rico’s legal department. Maybe Rico held a brainstorming session on new products, and patents got filed on every idea, no matter how ridiculous, just in case.
But, out of curiosity, I Googled some of the other patents referenced in the PDF. And one of the patents listed as related to “specialized adaptations to existing machinery” used in reed manufacture turned up something surprising. Check out the search results, for the patent number in the ricoreeds.com domain. [UPDATE: The single web document that previously showed up in this search appears to have been removed or otherwise secured. The document appears to be an archived email message, intended for internal use within Rico (located at the subdomain “intranet.ricoreeds.com”, now inaccessible). I have retrieved the document from my web browser cache. The formatting is lost, but it is still legible. Read it here. I have removed the names of Rico employees.] Here is a summary, based on my best guesses from the document:
“Duality” appears to be either a brand name or an internal code name for the double-tipped reeds.
Conversions of some existing machines to produce double-tipped reeds seem to be in process already.
“Duality” is due to launch (as in a new product release?) in “late 2012.”
The email refers to 15 “units” in all, with 12 being converted. I don’t know if this represents all of Rico’s reedmaking machines; if so, it seems they are converting 80% of their production capacity to Duality, with 20% to continue producing “legacy” products. If this is case, Rico is betting big on the Duality reeds.
I’m not sure what to make of all this. Let me know what you think in the comments.
[BIG UPDATE: Rico has responded to my blog post with a “press release” on their Facebook page. Apparently somebody is working over the weekend. Check it out here!!]
Couple of thots. One is that a generous way to approach the teaching of music is that no one HAS to learn it. It’s something that enriches life and many people would like to learn it. But life often has other priorities, and especially for adult students, it might be helpful to think of it less as trying to get mildly interested people to do what you ask, dammit, but as an opportunity each week to remind people how wonderful it it to be able to play an instrument.
A less generous response (sorry) to your points about might be a they say/they mean game like this:
Says: I didn’t get a chance to practice much.
Means: I didn’t leave my last lesson excited to practice.
Says: Do I have to practice these scales?
Means: I don’t understand how this skill helps me.
Says: I practiced this piece millions of times and I still can’t play it.
Means: You haven’t taught me how to practice properly.
Says: This is kind of boring.
Means: I’m not having fun with what we’re working on. I want to play music!
Gandalfe and Mike — you bring up some good points. Clearly my post is one born of frustration.
I perhaps should have clarified that most of my students are full-time college music majors. They don’t “have to” do anything I ask, but they did choose to be here. Some, it seems, are learning the hard way that high-level music study is not a casual or “when-I-feel-like-it” situation. It takes many hours, often well beyond the point that the “fun” runs out, and sometimes means sacrificing other things. But the ones who succeed are the ones for whom the work and sacrifice are worth it.
Don’t forget the adult hobbyists. Given enough time, *maybe* I could learn to play the altissimo with the same dexterity as the rest of the instrument range. But given my 10 hr a day job, 6 hr a week practice & gig time, 8 hrs a day sleep, … it probably won’t happen.
It’s all about priorities and where does making music fit in their. Lessee, country, family, work, … hobbies. I would also note that while my wife picked up growling on a sax in 15 minutes (damn her!) I have been working in on and off for years, and it has never been there for me. I suspect some people have a genetic predisposition for making beautiful music.
Doesn’t mean I take my toys and go home though. There are just too many gigs out there where the band is glad to have me. And every once in a while, you click on all cylinders and play the gig of your life.
Bret — my daughter was a music major, actually, and does have the “I really should be practicing” mentality that seems to be a requirement for that life. :-) As I’m sure you know, what seems to dictate success in music, and indeed, in many or most fields, is not raw talent per se (which certainly doesn’t hurt) but what someone once called “a talent for practicing” — being dedicated to it and knowing how to do it effectively. I’ve certainly seen that among students of language (which I have taught), and it’s perfectly clear in my work in high-tech — the people who do the best are those who, either through sheer joy of it or via an overdeveloped sense of responsibility — are always “practicing” and developing their craft.
I’m always amused when we go to the opera, and how during the intermissions there are always people in the pit, madly running through their parts. Break time seems to be just another opportunity to practice, heh.
I’d like to jump in to this conversation, because I offer the perspective of someone who 1) hears Dr. Pimentel’s students in the practice room; and 2) chats with those students in other classes. (I teach music history as well as flute, so I encounter every music major for at least 3 semesters.)
They know how to practice. He’s taught them all of the “tricks” — metronome, changing the rhythms, using practice logs, drilling small bits at a time, etc. He even uses lessons as supervised practice time for new students who haven’t quite caught on to the art of practicing. His students tell me that they understand *why* they need to know their scales.
And many (most) of his students catch on—admirably. Since my office is next door, I often hear great improvement coming from students in their lessons, as well as in recitals and juries.
But since the practice rooms are directly across from our offices (which is both a blessing and a curse), we also know who actually practices and who doesn’t, as well as HOW they practice. Some students just insist on running through pieces—no matter how many times Bret teaches them how to break up their practice into more effective segments.
I’ll be the first to admit that some of what we assign IS boring. But until a student can play a scale with accuracy, they’re going to have a hard time developing the technical fluency that will allow them to make the MUSIC they want to make.
Yes, I think Bret’s quite right in noting that there’s a difference in working a hobbyist and with someone who has more or less explicitly declared their commitment to the craft, and who can be expected, as Bret notes, to do the woodshedding (and do it right).
I personally am in the hobbyist category, and it has been remarkable to me what a wide variety of teaching skills there are among the teachers in whose studios I’ve sat. (Again, true for any field.) Some number of my teachers have not taught practice skills — whether they don’t know how to, or whether the need doesn’t occur to them. (That said, I took a class once that was entirely about how to practice with a metronome.)
Anyway, Bret, thanks for this post. Given especially the follow-up explanation of where it was coming from, it’s clear what you’re talking about, and I hope you don’t think that _I_ think that you’re lacking in teaching skills or dedication. :-)
I use
Couple of thots. One is that a generous way to approach the teaching of music is that no one HAS to learn it. It’s something that enriches life and many people would like to learn it. But life often has other priorities, and especially for adult students, it might be helpful to think of it less as trying to get mildly interested people to do what you ask, dammit, but as an opportunity each week to remind people how wonderful it it to be able to play an instrument.
A less generous response (sorry) to your points about might be a they say/they mean game like this:
Says: I didn’t get a chance to practice much.
Means: I didn’t leave my last lesson excited to practice.
Says: Do I have to practice these scales?
Means: I don’t understand how this skill helps me.
Says: I practiced this piece millions of times and I still can’t play it.
Means: You haven’t taught me how to practice properly.
Says: This is kind of boring.
Means: I’m not having fun with what we’re working on. I want to play music!
Gandalfe and Mike — you bring up some good points. Clearly my post is one born of frustration.
I perhaps should have clarified that most of my students are full-time college music majors. They don’t “have to” do anything I ask, but they did choose to be here. Some, it seems, are learning the hard way that high-level music study is not a casual or “when-I-feel-like-it” situation. It takes many hours, often well beyond the point that the “fun” runs out, and sometimes means sacrificing other things. But the ones who succeed are the ones for whom the work and sacrifice are worth it.
Don’t forget the adult hobbyists. Given enough time, *maybe* I could learn to play the altissimo with the same dexterity as the rest of the instrument range. But given my 10 hr a day job, 6 hr a week practice & gig time, 8 hrs a day sleep, … it probably won’t happen.
It’s all about priorities and where does making music fit in their. Lessee, country, family, work, … hobbies. I would also note that while my wife picked up growling on a sax in 15 minutes (damn her!) I have been working in on and off for years, and it has never been there for me. I suspect some people have a genetic predisposition for making beautiful music.
Doesn’t mean I take my toys and go home though. There are just too many gigs out there where the band is glad to have me. And every once in a while, you click on all cylinders and play the gig of your life.
Bret — my daughter was a music major, actually, and does have the “I really should be practicing” mentality that seems to be a requirement for that life. :-) As I’m sure you know, what seems to dictate success in music, and indeed, in many or most fields, is not raw talent per se (which certainly doesn’t hurt) but what someone once called “a talent for practicing” — being dedicated to it and knowing how to do it effectively. I’ve certainly seen that among students of language (which I have taught), and it’s perfectly clear in my work in high-tech — the people who do the best are those who, either through sheer joy of it or via an overdeveloped sense of responsibility — are always “practicing” and developing their craft.
I’m always amused when we go to the opera, and how during the intermissions there are always people in the pit, madly running through their parts. Break time seems to be just another opportunity to practice, heh.
I’d like to jump in to this conversation, because I offer the perspective of someone who 1) hears Dr. Pimentel’s students in the practice room; and 2) chats with those students in other classes. (I teach music history as well as flute, so I encounter every music major for at least 3 semesters.)
They know how to practice. He’s taught them all of the “tricks” — metronome, changing the rhythms, using practice logs, drilling small bits at a time, etc. He even uses lessons as supervised practice time for new students who haven’t quite caught on to the art of practicing. His students tell me that they understand *why* they need to know their scales.
And many (most) of his students catch on—admirably. Since my office is next door, I often hear great improvement coming from students in their lessons, as well as in recitals and juries.
But since the practice rooms are directly across from our offices (which is both a blessing and a curse), we also know who actually practices and who doesn’t, as well as HOW they practice. Some students just insist on running through pieces—no matter how many times Bret teaches them how to break up their practice into more effective segments.
I’ll be the first to admit that some of what we assign IS boring. But until a student can play a scale with accuracy, they’re going to have a hard time developing the technical fluency that will allow them to make the MUSIC they want to make.
Yes, I think Bret’s quite right in noting that there’s a difference in working a hobbyist and with someone who has more or less explicitly declared their commitment to the craft, and who can be expected, as Bret notes, to do the woodshedding (and do it right).
I personally am in the hobbyist category, and it has been remarkable to me what a wide variety of teaching skills there are among the teachers in whose studios I’ve sat. (Again, true for any field.) Some number of my teachers have not taught practice skills — whether they don’t know how to, or whether the need doesn’t occur to them. (That said, I took a class once that was entirely about how to practice with a metronome.)
Anyway, Bret, thanks for this post. Given especially the follow-up explanation of where it was coming from, it’s clear what you’re talking about, and I hope you don’t think that _I_ think that you’re lacking in teaching skills or dedication. :-)