Denny was teasing me, at least in part it seemed for perhaps being falsely modest, or some such. The thing is, my post giving a bit of a caveat to my advice on flute playing comes from a genuine place, and is one of those things which I think really matter - around here, and also out there in flute-life.
I come across so many people who have never got beyond the n00b phase. They typically think they’re great. It’s embarassing, really. I also think there’s this expectation amongst many people that a couple of years on an instrument is enough to make you an expert. IMO, 5 years on most instruments - and that would be 5 years of a decent level of focussed practising - is barely enough to make a player of most instruments competent. For most people, it certainly wouldn’t be enough to be able to give out advice without a bit of a caveat.
I’ve come across people who claim to be able to play the flute after 2 years. I’ve yet to meet anyone who can play the flute after 2 years. And one way to stay, forever, a perpetual n00b, is to pretend, to yourself and others, that you know what you’re talking about … when you don’t.
But people are going to have different views on this. I’d be interested to hear what people think. (Please ignore my own playing in this - it’s irrelevant to the subject in hand.)
FWIW I do think that, rather obviously, someone who has studied more, practiced more, worked harder and longer and achieved a more advanced level is on balance going to be better equipped experientially than folk less so to pass advice or judgement. That won’t necessarily make them a good “teacher” as other skills are involved.
In any field of specialised endeavour the advanced practitioner has often forgotten or come to take for granted some of the experiences and struggles of the newbie. Also, folk who have just learned something or who are experiencing a problem are often well placed (though in a limited way) usefully and productively to explore, explain and discuss such things insightfully to/with their peers, provided their self observation and analysis and their communication skills are good. Conversations at such a level can be useful and supportive in a way that authoritative, didactic teaching may not offer; but they often also lack deeper understanding, wider conceptual and experiential perspective and sometimes simple, basic, factual knowledge and become waffly, unhelpful myth factories and ego-scratching venues: then an authoritative intervention can clear things up, at least for those willing to accept it.
I kinda ran out of time at that point (phew!), and was having editing problems via my phone…
Wanted to add that most of my previous is pretty much pedagogical truism, of course… “If you become a teacher, by your pupils you’ll be taught”, etc. etc.
And there’s that whole thing of learning something oneself, then forthwith teaching it to someone else - often very valuable to both parties, provided no errors creep in.
So true; sometimes brilliant players are hopeless as teachers. In many cases I think it’s not that they forgot the struggles of a newbie but rather that they never experienced those struggles! I’ve seen brilliant natural musicians who just pick up an instrument and gain astonishing proficiency without much in the way of struggling. Yes they spend a huge amount of time practicing and playing, but they don’t have to take lessons, or break things down and analyse them, etc.
On the other hand musicians who took formal lessons not only learned their instrument but also aquired a pedagogy, a system of learning, and themselves often make better teachers, even if they’re not as good as players.
Also less-talented players who had to struggle and think through and break down everything they did, on their own, have a host of insights and experiences to relate.
More interesting questions regarding noobhood pertain to the accomplishment ceiling.
Do we each have our own unique point beyond which it’s unlikely we’ll progress technically? To what extent can determined and organized effort push us beyond that point? Once having reached our ‘technical ceiling’, can we not continue to grow by concentrating more on emotional creativity than flawless chops?
Consider also that classical musicians learn TONS about the music from their conductors, who are often clueless about the technical aspects of the instruments. So do jazzers from their bandleaders and mates. Some of my favorite fluters list fiddlers, pipers or box players as their greatest influences.
Lots of moving parts here. My preference is to hear advice from everyone who offers it, and make my own decisions about what’s useful.
I see two roads here, with no division. Mind you, I am speaking in terms of performance rather than playing simply for one’s private pleasure:
As to the first: while it may be so, I am very cautious to suggest that that there is ever a technical ceiling, mainly because it serves no one to ever give up on growth. One thing I know for sure is that in outwardly physical pursuits such as music performance, one rises to the level of one’s innate talents. However, this is not necessarily the very limit. What it DOES mean is that for further technical advancement, all of a sudden one faces the reality that one has been on a plateau and now the real work begins; sometimes it is so daunting as to seem impossible. Indeed, at such times gains are invariably hard-won, incrementally small, and long in coming. This is normal. It is also when people are most prone to give up, in which case you either decide to be satisfied with your dissatisfaction, or put down your instrument for good. I am fully confident in declaring that over the years, so long as we work toward technical progress, we will be faced with numerous such growth opportunities that follow the same pattern. But as time progresses they may occur less and less often, and will seem harder yet. Yet they may be overcome. What I suggest is picking, focusing on, and conquering one little thing at a time, rather than thinking to improve the whole in any sweeping fashion; the latter is for the time when one is a beginner to intermediate player. There is a point where that no longer applies; forging does not sharpen the edge. Sooner or later one must polish, and that is painstaking work, attention to micro-detail.
As to the second I would say the answer is “Yes”, but with some caution. I don’t think creativity always makes up for technical limitations, nor especially over all. There comes a point where if one is a technical one-trick pony, it risks becoming very apparent that one is simply repeating the same chops no matter how how you slice and dice the same ingredients or emote with them. However, I do have a suspicion that it’s easier to get by with this on melody instruments like flute, than with backup playing, for example.
I dunno; I seriously think one must never give up, and forever work at improving both if one is to be a Compleat Player. You may have to trade off back and forth between polishing chops and creativity, but that’s a path to progress like any other. In the meantime one must do one’s best, yet at the same time not delude oneself. If you don’t acknowledge the substandard, how can you improve it? The rest is effort, or complacency.
This from a lazy S.O.B. who would do well to take his own advice.
If only that were true. Unfortunately, I think that is very rarely the case. Even given limitless time, the vast majority of us will only ever rise to somewhere near a tenth of what we could achieve if we were really motivated and sufficiently focussed.
But, meanwhile, most of what I meant in my OP was not to do with the limits of one’s own ability, but rather how far towards those limits we might get in a short space of time.
I am a “perpetual n00b” even on fiddle, on which instrument most people seem to think I’m competent. But I’m always learning, and wouldn’t be happy if I weren’t. I’m always learning on flute too. I have less time behind me on that instrument though and, sadly, less total time too. The time in front of me for improving on flute seems short compared with the 47 years of fiddle behind me.
But that is precisely what I mean by “talent”. I’m coming from an educational model I absorbed elsewhere and I think it makes sense, so bear with me: Talent is that part of you that gets you, innately, from beginner to where the big stopping point is. Some people get farther, others less, but all reach a stopping point based on native predisposition. That’s what I mean by “talent”. At the stopping point talent no longer contains potential, because it’s fulfilled. It need by no means be the very end, because potential to me is bigger than talent, but potential means eventually having to do real work (whereas talent was relatively easier), and that is when so many people stop upwardly and continue ahead as-is. After talent’s limit, if there is to be progress one must go upward by sheer plod, and that is where I drop the term “talent” and move on to others like “dedication”, “drive”, “ability”, “gift”, or even “genius”.
OK. I think I get where you’re coming from. We’re looking at the same thing. Only in different ways. I’m going to try your way for a bit. See if it gets me anywhere.*
Yes the people that get “great” in music or sports or whatever not only have more talent than everyone else but also are willing to work harder than everyone else.
James Galway, who reached the top of the classical flute world, has spoken about this on several occasions
“If you have received a gift from God it is your duty to use it and nurture it to its full potential.”
“I believe I have a gift from God that has to be honoured so I give my best at every performance.”
He recognised at an early age that he had a gift for the flute, and upon this recognition felt that he had a duty to do the hard work, the countless hours of practice and study, to bring his gift to its full potential. Also note that for him trying to make every performance as perfect as possible isn’t mere professionalism but another aspect of this duty.
I have a talent … a gift from God, if you will. I’ve been working on it for over 36 years, and 'though I still have lots to learn, I don’t consider myself a newbie, and I don’t think anyone else does either. “Learning” does involve developing more proficiency with the tools and techniques of the trade, but I believe that the real gift I’ve been given is a finely tuned instinct, which needs continual testing and honing.
That talent has nothing to do with music.
Certainly nothing to do with the fiddle. Although I started on the fiddle over a decade ago, I’m still clearly a newbie, and even if I could accumulate 47 years on it, I’m not convinced I would progress beyond the level of painful beginner. With the whistle, on the other hand, I have enough facility that I could see, with enough time, progressing beyond the point where people cringe when I pick it up. But even on the whistle, the gap between me and the finer practitioners is so vast that I doubt I will ever feel more than “just a student”. And that pleases me.
My late whistle teacher (may God grant his soul rest) took up the mountain dulcimer after many years as an accomplished flute and whistle player, because he wanted a reminder of how his students felt, what it was like to be a newbie.
This was one reason I’ve often failed to successfully learn a second or third instrument. When I was learning classical/fingerstyle guitar it was my first instrument. I had no idea where I was going; I just kept playing and learning from my teacher. Now, the second time around I know just how long the road is to being competent and it’s discouraging and frustrating at times.
Well, I see this very differently. When I was about three years old, my parents started me on the piano because they saw an “extraordinary talent.” When I started on it, I didn’t understood that I was much of a noob, I was just learning it, and loved it. Now, many years later, I’m still struggling with the extremely fine details of the classical music, but it doesn’t turn me down for some reason. There’s some instinctive strive for excellence instilled somewhere in me. However, five years after I started piano, I tried viola for a while. I then became aware of my “noobness” for that instrument. That put me down. But that strive for excellence was still there, and compelled me to pick it up again. When I eventually got around to the fiddle and flute, I felt that noobness again, but it wasn’t discouraging, rather, I saw it as a challenge. In that way I consider myself lucky.
