I had a lesson today with a great Maryland flute player and teacher. Not my first lesson with him, and I have another teacher who’s very good. I think I had an epiphany today. This may very well belong among the headlines of DUH magazine for many of you.
I’ve never really been crazy about the whole tune-based teaching thing as a holistic approach. So there we were going through a tune (the one from the last lesson, some time ago), phrase by phrase, twist by twist, accent by accent, etc. And I listened to the lesson on the way home (an hour drive, by serendipity), and it occurred to me that, to a great extent, these were exercises. Each thing he had me do can be made into an exercise – big accents on the accented beat; cuts on the accented beat; accents on the off beat, etc. This lesson may be the first in which I’ve gone through a tune with each of these aspects, but I think every lesson I’ve had has had some component that could be made into an exercise.
I’ve really never turned the instruction from a flute lesson into exercises, besides things like scales, arpeggios, harmonics, etc. I’ve never thought of turning these stylistic things into exercises, but plan on it now.
Is this a rather rude thing to say, or am I missing out on a cleverly-disguised joke?
On the topic, I found myself (due to my evil classical background) making exercises out of tunes, as well. I’ve moved away from that since then, but it worked very well for what I wanted from it at the time. I rule out no method for learning, and this one can be as effective as any.
I don’t necessary think of the tunes as exercises, but they are the “etudes” of the Irish trad repertoire. In other words, you can learn everything you need to know to play this music by playing the tunes themselves.
Some people pick the nuances up by osmosis or subliminally. Others do better with conscious analysis and synthesis–dissecting lessons from the tunes, and then reassembling the bits back into “music.” Whatever floats your boat. The main thing to realize is that whatever you learn from one tune can be extrapolated and used elsewhere.
Lest this sound overly calculating, I tend to focus on the “play” when playing music–it’s all fun and good, whether or not someone else would call it “practice.”
I always had a problem with classical music, because I wanted to play and not practice a bunch of scales. If you know what you like and how you learn best, by all means do it.
Fecking classical musicians. Want you to control your instrument so you can turn your mind to playing music instead of struggling to catch your breath.
What were they thinking?
the article goes on to describe what elements to listen for, and how to work on approaches to irish music. And I mean LISTEN, not play a cd over and over.
Look it up, it may provide you with some insights.
I turn tunes into exercises often. I play a good bit of what most people would consider boring and “unfun”, and have been accused of taking the joy out of playing, but here is my take on it – the joy of playing comes from making the instrument become an extension of yourself. I don’t think about picking up something or taking a step and I don’t want to have to think about making a nice roll or playing an interval in tune or get the tone I like, etc. It should just happen, that’s where making music can happen.
FOR ME, for anything to become second nature, I have to strip away everything else. To improve my cuts, I have to practice them first in a context where I don’t have to worry about playing musically. Of course, nothing is of value unless you can later use it correctly, but FOR ME, playing exercises instead of tunes heps me focus on different individual building blocks.
I’m one of those oddballs who enjoy playing scales, intervals and all those fingering exercises others love to hate. Once you get them under your fingers, they are relaxing old pals. Plus, flute repetoire (and this includes ITM) is really nothing but scales, arpeggios and intervals. Practicing them is ear training and helps me translate what I hear or see into what I finger.
Again, that’s just me. The more intelligent/talented/experienced in the bunch may be able to improve their technique through a more hoistic approach, but I have to break things down into little technical exercises to experience any improvement.
Want you to control your instrument so you can turn your mind to playing music instead of struggling to catch your breath.
I’m a plodder, myself. Over and over again with the little bits until they’re second nature and can be readily inserted here or there for variety’s sake and not having to worry about a trainwreck.
The Japanese -I think it is- have a saying to the effect that talent is a tragedy, meaning that talent has an easy time of it up to a point where things are no longer easy, work must finally be done, discouragement sets in, and often enough talent gives up, not previously having had to work hard. I console myself with that.
And I’m a reader who reads/plays my way through one or two tune books looking for the “ONE”. When I find it, and often do, I become the “plodder, myself.” To me the practice is the reading and adjusting. I don’t just RUN through tunes but concentrate on the timing and all that. This is my little pleasure. The work - and this is fun too - begins when I then commit the ONE to memory and work it.
Nothing wrong with Classical technique, it helps you find your way around the notes. Once you have all the notes lined up - in the correct sequence - you’re on your own!
That’s when it gets interesting…very interesting.
That’s when the listening comes in handy.
It is in that space, between the sequence and the soul, that the music lives.
Ooh, guess I am a bit contentious today. Sorry about that. But daggone it, good music – music that moves, that expresses, that engages the player and, if an audience is around, them, too – is good music, period. Doesn’t matter what or where it’s from or what it’s played on. It’s that simple.
