I just had a wonderfully humbling experience at my weekly session.
I walked in and there was this guitar quartet playing in our usual spot. They were more than just really good; they were spectacular. I came to learn that they were visiting from Argentina and just played with the New York Symphony before going on a tour. A friend of thiers said to us “can they just play one more.” My reply was “Once they stop playing, I have to listen to me.” I think the implication was obvious.
After our session started, one of the quartet said to me “Your playing is very good.” I’ve never thought as much. I always felt that it was good enough to give me enjoyment.
Later on, another member of the quartet grabed me at the bar. He said “You’re music is very good.” I replied “Thank you very much; I have a lot of work to do.” His reply was truely humbling for me. He said, “No, you are a good musician because you play from your heart, and we can feel it.”
The handful of folks on this board that have actually heard my playing can attest to my mediocrity or lack of virtuosity, but those words really touched me because they were so genuine.
How many others among us have had musicians that were truely far superior to your own level of play, say words that touched you as much?
Yes I have Mark. Humbled by superior musicians who sincerely seemed to enjoy my playing. I’ve also been insulted by inferior musicians. I hope that didn’t make me vain. But why should it? Most of us are painfully aware of our limitations and it doesn’t alter that situation to be reminded that others are worse.
Jazz virtuoso art Tatum once astounded friends by insisting on hearing out a whole set by a very technically limited backwoods blues pianist. His rejoinder to their protests: ‘Everybody has their story to tell.’ Isn’t it great when someone we admire really likes our story?
On 2002-10-31 01:27, Wombat wrote:
[…] Isn’t it great when someone we admire really likes our story?
Oh, Lordy, yes. My experience in this department came during my second Feis competition. It was at the end of a long rainy day - everyone was bone tired, they’d delayed the musical events until all the dancers had competed under one of the few available shelters. The organizers were eager to get it over with and were under pressure from site management to close the Feis so they could set up for an evening concert.
The adjudicators (the late Sean McGlynn, and Martin O’Connor) had told everyone just to play one short tune instead of the jig, hornpipe, and reel that were required on the syllabus. Some friends and I had been playing for younger dancers earlier and had already received our share of abuse and flak from parents and dance school teachers. Feeling like nobody really wanted to listen to me, I stepped up in turn and went twice through Snug in the Blanket, my favorite jig of the moment, with what little energy I had left.
After I finished, some hushed communication went on between Sean and Martin and there was a pause, and my heart sank. Then Sean leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, smiled at me, and said in his gentle Brooklyn-tinged Irish accent, “Well, that was so good we’ll just have to hear the rest.”
It was the one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me, and typical of Sean’s graciousness and generosity.
Wendina
[edited for to correct factual errors]
[ This Message was edited by: klezmusic on 2002-10-31 02:49 ]
[ This Message was edited by: klezmusic on 2002-11-01 00:11 ]
I think many, if not most musicians go through a face where they have worked hard for technique and finally achieved some; at this point, it is easy to feel superior to those who aren’t as far along down the road, and criticism of “younger” players (irregardless of age) is unfortunately common. Even here.
Part of this is because we live in a society that doesn’t teach us how to lift ourselves up without pushing others down in the process.
But take a musician who is quite a bit further down the road. He has achieved technique and competency, but he also now has an understanding of how much of the meat of it there is left to learn. This is a musician who will listen to the beginner as avidly as to the professional, knowing that there many be something to learn from the beginner’s playing as well.
You have to reach a certain point before you hear what is good about a beginner’s playing; and if you can’t stand to hear a beginner “murder” a tune, well, you’re not quite so far down the road as you think you are.
Truly great musicians are quite often kind–they are secure in their art, they are no longer in real competition with anyone (except maybe themselves), they don’t see their mastery of the art as a fortress which must be protected from all challenges.
This story was a heartwarming read, and a great reminder for all of us how much better mileage you get from kindness than from criticism. And good timing as well, methinks.
I couldn’t agree more James. I think it’s pretty much like this in any walk of life in which we aspire constantly to improve. I think there are exceptions in both directions though. I think some people who are not very far down the road can still set their ego aside when dealing with others. (Maybe they’re quite a long way down some other road and have learnt a sense of perspective over there.) But I’m sure I’ve met people who are very good at what they do who behave with the insecurity of a teenager with more hormones than sense. I won’t speculate on why they do this. Thankfully, these are exceptions.
[ This Message was edited by: Wombat on 2002-10-31 09:00 ]
There’s no better feeling than when a musician who possesses clearly superior skill compliments you on your own ability. Not mere platitudes, but as has been mentioned, true insight into ~why~ your playing touches him/her.
Early in my violin training, I experienced that, and never forgot it. And more recently, a fiddler I respect commented that she enjoyed my playing because I could "feel " the music’s soul. My whistling still needs some work. And I’ve received similar comments from vocalists in my long career as a tenor.
And I try to keep the tradition alive by similarly encourging the kids I interact with and play with. This one-time kid never forgets those experiences.
Yes, I have had people say those type of comments about my music, and it is a truly humbling experience. Your self-esteem and self-confidence about your ability goes up, and I always feel so happy to have been able to have touched someone’s heart like that with my music.
a wonderful feeling, and thanks for sharing Mark!
I wish to return to Rivendell
Where peace & Elven folk do dwell;
For I’ve journeyed far through Hill and Dale
To the East & West of which tales do tell,
But none is so fair as my Rivendell.
~TWE-aka. Quellecristwen</f
[ This Message was edited by: The Whistling Elf on 2002-10-31 09:33 ]
Once, I was sittin in on session at the Mucky Duck when just about everyone decided to take a break for a beer. It left me and
EJ Jones (from Clandestine) up on stage. We ended up playing Gravel Walk together.
Afterwards, he said “Hey, you sucked, but not so bad this time.”
Just kiddin..EJ’s a great guy. He actually said “That was great!”. I couldn’t imagine him having a bad thing to say about anyone.
I doubt many on the board would be familiar with the band Train, but I had the opportunity to meet Train in July. While talking to the drummer of the band, I mentioned I play the pennywhistle. He told me that the lead singer, Pat, used to play the whistle. I hadn’t known that until he told me and I was quite anxious to go talk to Pat about the whistle. After chatting with the drummer, I walked up to Pat. Before I go any further, I just wanted to say, Train is a very talented band - each member plays a number of different instruments and it was awe-inspiring to have the opportunity to chat with them. I walked up to Pat, told him I play the whistle and he instantly said “See, you probably sound like a real pennywhistler - when I played it, I was so bad.” - Obviously, he had never heard me play before and I seriously doubted he played the whistle badly; he is far too talented! What he said had a great affect on me, one I’ll remember forever! It was quite humbling, seeing as Pat, whose musical abilities are far beyond mine, told me that I sound like a real pennywhistler and I don’t see myself as that great a pennywhistler. It was quite an amazing experience.
“Tell me, did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is over-rated” - Drops of Jupiter
[ This Message was edited by: Sara on 2002-10-31 11:10 ]
Why is it so hard for some to offer or accept compliments? I find Americans so good in this area. They lack the deep rooted sarchasm that characterizes so many in the British Isles, in particular.
I think the most rewarding compliments come from other musicians. A few years ago I was at the Cleveland Ballet school, accompanying the Spanish/Flamenco class, getting ready for their end of semester program. They did a program covering the whole curriculum twice a year to show the parents and financial backers how their money was being spent. The school insisted on live musicians for these shows and they had some VERY good ones, and then me, playing flamenco guitar, fighting with a numb left wrist. But I had a good time as I always did because these kids were so good and learned so fast. So we had finished our last run through and I had nothing else to do until the show that evening so I sat out in the audience to watch the rest of the show when one of the pianists, one of the GOOOD pianists, walked by where I was sitting, stopped in front of me, pointed his finger at me and said, “You are good!” and then walked on. You know, I almost believed him.
Mike Burns
My mother has played the bagpipes since before I was born (since she was about 16, I think) and is the only bagpipe teacher in Fairbanks, AK. We were talking a couple of years ago about the times when you just can’t enjoy playing. She told me about the entire year she didn’t play the pipes.
Now, I still can’t really imagine my mother without her bagpipes. It is like trying to picture a cook without a kitchen. But she actually spent an entire year not touching her pipes or her practice chanter.
Anyway, she one day picked up her practice chanter again and started playing. She had decided to get ready for a highland games that was only a couple of months away. Needless to say, she couldn’t really recover a year’s worth of ground in a couple of months. But she got a competition set worked up and she went to the games.
The judge was one she had played in front of several times in the past. I don’t remember his name, but at the time he was a well-known judge and piper on the West coast. And he had a reputation for being merciless but fair in his judging. You can imagine how hard it would be to play for someone who has heard you do a fair amount better. That’s where Mom was. Other pipers in her grade were playing with a higher degree of technical precision and she felt a little discouraged.
Before the results were announced, she was addressed by the crotchety old judge who informed her “young lady, you make music. You don’t have all the technical precision, but you will be walking away with a prize today.”
That was a large part of defining what she already understood, which is that there is more to music than the precise timing and technical fanciness that some players think is the end-all. Competition pipers seem to have a big thing about playing perfectly, but somehow lack personal expression. So, I sometimes ask myself if what I am playing is really music or just playing the notes the way they are written.
Just kiddin..EJ’s a great guy. He actually said “That was great!”. I couldn’t imagine him having a bad thing to say about anyone.