Loren,
I actually am trying to work out some of the answers for myself, so they really are in the formative state. But here is some of what I’ve been going over.
Woodshed:
Practicing, starts with going through the tunes I’ve learned to polish them further. With some tunes it’s just remembering which notes come next, with other tunes its getting the rythmn right. Other tunes, I might be working on ornamentation of some type, or experimenting with replacing an ornament that is sunk into finger memory but isn’t what I want to hear when I play it. For example replacing 2 cuts with a role. This is kind of like wondering around the music I have so far.
Usually while wandering I run into a tune I need to play. So that tune becomes a start for a number of tunes that touch something inside me that needs to get out, needs a little breath, needs a little finger massage. May be its the "air"ing of a dissappointment, maybe its claiming a victory march, maybe its a jig to celebrate the event of the day, or a lament to morn a drama of the day. I guess in a sense, I’m practicing playing from the heart, but it not really practice as much as just giving in to heart song. Heart song that exercises and uses the music to process the day, reflect on it, let it settle in my soul and resonate, or to be threshed and wash away as chaff. Sometimes this stage eats up the available time I have to practice. This happens whenever its been a couple of days since my last practice. When I get daily practices in this second stage of catharsis playing is followed by a play with the new toys phase.
The play with new toys phase varies. It may be playing a tune on 3 or 4 different whistles to see how they come across, how the style and tone change with key and character. The new toys might not be new whistles (or flute); they might be a new tunes. I may work my way through trying to learn a new tune that I picked up somewhere. When I first started playing this usually meant some type of sight reading. Lately, I’ve begun to try to pick a couple of tunes from ear, either listening to a recording or remembering the tune from hearing it at a session. The new toy might also be a new technique, like learning a new ornament, or playing around with scales or arpeggios.
After playing with the toys, I can occasionally spend a little time trying to bridge the mental recording of a tune translating to a series of breath-finger moves to hearing the tune. It kind of like learning to type. I’m trying to quit typing each letter, and move on to words and phrases. I’m trying to find a way to make the music flow without having to constantly thinking about the mechanics of playing. I didn’t have to think about what my vocal chords are doing, or my tongue, or diaphram, when I used to sing. I just thought the song and it came out. That’s the ultimate goal of my learning whistle and flute. So I can run the tune through my head and it flows out the fingers and breath without additional thought.
Thats what I put into my woodshed and a little about what I get out. However, what I get out varies for a number of reasons.
The Musical Climate:
First, my woodshed has a leaky roof and to often it gets rained out. 2 teenage (19&20) daughters , a wife, and mother law that lives 2 miles away, tend to cultivate a social climate of scatterred thunderstorms, brief showers, mixed with the number of sunny days, and the occasional hurricane. Going to the leaky shed when there’s a pending storm, just isn’t appealing. Especially when my dearly beloved(s) have attached a lightning rod from the shed roof grounded through the floor of the shed. Having had to quickly side step a bolt from the female, non-irish music loving part of the family, tend to not only end the woodshed sessions, but usually results in a period of time where I have to wait for the static charge to dissapate.
Not only does the roof leek but the walls and doors too. In other words, none of the rooms that are comfortable for practicing are sound proof. So with 4 working adults, scheduling times that don’t interfer with someone trying to sleep, is always an issue. The musical preferences are different for each person at home (1 punk rocker in a band, one hip hop, rap, classical player with a beautiful voice, one country listener that can’t carry a tune and then myself). This further complicates scheduling.
Note: shape of the shed is changing by the end of summer, new shed (house with a music room), and empty nest should improve the musical climate appreciably
Into the Shed
So what goes into the shed, is a lot of non-musical costs and scheduling conflicts, my time and resources, and the need to excise my own demons and/or exhort my own angels. I take in a little talent and some great advice from C&F, folks I meet at sessions, and sites I find over the net.
Out of the Shed
What I get out of the shed, is a very slowly growing list of tunes I can play, with a very short list of tunes I can play well. I also get the imediate catharsis the rejuvinates and fortifies me to face the daily life task of home, family, and job. As the lists grow so does the depth and strength of the catharsis. I also get a little pride in meeting a new challenge, learning something new, although since this only occurs in the 3rd phase of each trip to the woodshed, it doesn’t happen with regularity or consistancy yet.
Shed to Session
As the list of tunes that I can play well grows, it gives me the satisfaction that I have something to offer my friends the next time we sit down to play together. Something more than just improvised rythmn accompaniment on my guitar.
Shed Break:
Well lunch is approaching, I think I may wander over to the mall (DC speak for the park that runs from capital to the Lincoln memorial) and sneak in a little practice. 95+ degrees and humidiy should limit the time to a half hour or so. Every little bit helps and my verbosity above has made me mindfull of the need. I’ll address the ins and outs of sessions in my next post.
In the mean time …

Enjoy Your Music,
Lee Marsh
[ This Message was edited by: LeeMarsh on 2002-07-03 12:29 ]