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?
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:
I was hoping to announce this a week ago, on the anniversary of the ReedCast™’s debut, April 1, 2015,but things got a little delayed. Anyway, you can now get your guaranteed-accurate, highly scientific ReedCast™ on your Alexa device. Check it out!
I won’t make a habit of posting advertisements here, but I wanted to make you all aware of a new way you can support what I do here at bretpimentel.com while also increasing your own cool factor. Behold the woodwind doubler t-shirt:
the agency sent Sven, their most broodingly handsome t-shirt model
It’s a nice quality American Apparel tee available in a variety of attractive and fashionable colors, with the logo in either black or white. A modest profit goes toward keeping the lights on here at your favorite woodwind blog and supports development of additional projects (like, for example, the Woodwind Doubling in Musicals list or the Fingering Diagram Builder).
The 5-instrument shirt is especially awesome, but there is also a saxophone-clarinet-flute version for the classic doubler, an oboe-bassoon version for the masochist, and a saxophone quartet version for those who want to “double” but prefer not to learn any new fingerings. I thought the four saxophone reeds looked sort of like cell phone reception “bars,” so there’s also a version with a dumb joke.
these images are simulatedwomen’s styles, too
There’s probably still time for holiday delivery if you order soon. Order now and be the best-dressed in the orchestra pit.
I am always pleased to hear from companies that want feedback on their products. And as you regular readers know, I try to be as thorough and honest as I can in my reviews. A couple of weeks ago I bumped into a Vandoren representative at a conference, and he offered to let me bring home some samples of a new product line for review. These haven’t shown up on Vandoren’s website or social media yet (though they do seem to have appeared on the Woodwind and Brasswind, a little prematurely!), so as far as I know this is an exclusive scoop. Update: WWBW has pulled the product listing.Update #2: read to the end for details on getting a free sample!
Vandoren has been doing some innovative things lately, and their new line of Maestro score-marking pencils is no exception. These are pencils specifically designed for the needs of the performing musician, and this focus is apparent in every detail. The pencils have a nice heft and balance to them, which the Vandoren rep tells me has to do with the hand-selected juniper wood harvested in the French Var Valley.
Click for larger
The premium erasers are some of the best I’ve used for score erasures—easy on valuable sheet music while removing the most stubborn pencil marks, with almost no smearing. They are currently available only in medium-soft, but my Vandoren source tells me they are “working on a medium-hard eraser, and a hard eraser geared toward professionals.”
But, of course, the real question is: how do they write? I’m happy to report that, when it comes to writing, these pencils have exceeded my expectations in every respect. The “lead” (graphite, actually) is, I understand, a proprietary formula designed for smooth, even writing on a variety of papers. But this is only part of the story.
My Vandoren source tells me that the real “secret” is the collars—the little metal ferrules that hold the erasers in place. While some “researchers” have suggested that the collar has little actual effect on the pencil’s writing characteristics, years of experience accumulated by some of the most respected woodwind players in the world say otherwise. And so I was not at all surprised to find that each collar has its own unique, shall we say, signature. Read More “Review: Vandoren “Maestro” score-marking pencils”
If you frequent any of the various woodwind-related Internet message boards, forums, or listservs, you have undoubtedly encountered some of the wildlife I will describe here. Remember that they can be dangerous creatures, and that it is often best not to attempt interaction with them.
One of the most common animal behaviors witnessed on the message boards is the exchange of gear recommendations. There are two primary families of wildlife the participate in this ritual: the askers and the answerers.
The askers
The askers all share a common behavioral trait: a proclivity for asking total strangers to blindly recommend instruments, mouthpieces, reeds, and other items. Their calls are varied.
Some prefer to remain hidden in the underbrush, offering no clarifying details:
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. :-)
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. :-)