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How nice it would be if we could automatically be good musicians, with little or no effort involved; just sit down and play brilliantly! Many people assume that’s what musicians do! I think what is largely responsible for that assumption is our culture’s misuse of the word talent.

When someone picks up a new instrument, or sings for the first time, if they find they don’t sound like a professional, they sometimes decide it must be because they don’t have the talent for it. After all, we’ve heard all our lives that talent is what (or maybe all) it takes. But that would be like expecting yourself to design a skyscraper without studying architecture.

Ability doesn’t just happen. Yes, there are the Mozarts and the Jackie Evanchos of the world, but Mozart had encouragement from knowledgeable mentors right from infancy, and Jackie has had extensive coaching to polish her lovely voice.

Because of the way we use the word, the myth of talent as “automatically fully developed skill” is perpetuated to a degree every time someone says, “You’re so talented!” Actually, the Webster’s Dictionary definition of talent is: a characteristic feature, aptitude, or disposition of a person or animal, the natural endowments of a person, a special athletic, creative, or artistic aptitude, general intelligence or mental power, ability. This could be mis-read as meaning what we expect it to mean. But if you read carefully, you see that a talent is whatever ability or disposition someone has. The definition certainly does not say that no coaching or education has to take place in order for an aptitude or inclination to become a skill.

Of course there are certain authority figures in our lives who declare what we “can” and “can’t” do. I find it shameful that anyone  –  parent, teacher or other  –  gives any person an idea that they can’t learn something, or oppositely, an idea that they have such natural talent that no skill development is needed. Making music well requires much patience and practice whether you have talent or not. When those with talent don’t bother to work at development, they can be left in the dust by those with less apparent talent but a lot of ambition. And anyone who has worked hard to develop a skill should get credit for the work they’ve done, instead of just being told “You’re so talented!”, which ignores the effort involved.

I once met someone who said I should never be paid for playing music, because it was a natural talent that should be freely shared! She had no idea of the depth of that insult. (Strangely, this lady was a psychic who charged $60 per hour for a reading. The irony of it was amusing.)

One may be “talented” if consistently exposed to music and encouraged to participate in it on a daily basis at an early age. I guarantee that someone who did not have such exposure and opportunity will appear to have less talent, because the neural pathways that process music-learning are less developed. But that usually doesn’t mean they can’t catch up, given the right circumstances or the will to do so. Integrating music (playing the notes reasonably accurately, producing good tone, playing smoothly and with good rhythm and understanding of appropriate tempos, dynamics and expression, and appropriate use of stylistic nuances) is something that comes with time, practice, and lots of exposure.

Another concept that begs to be questioned is that talent implies that someone is more special than someone else. Especially with children, this is damaging, IMHO. It inflates egos or deflates delicate self-esteem. Willingness to work toward musical goals trumps any concept of individual specialness. In the end, the one who plays best (if comparisons must be made) is the one who worked hardest.

It’s easy to use “talent” and “lack of talent” as excuses for what we will and won’t do. But excuses aren’t necessary. If you’ve not worked as hard as someone else, instead of saying “I don’t have the talent”, you can in good conscience say, “I have no desire to work that hard.” Here’s the important thing: music is supposed to be fun. You’re entitled to work as hard as you wish, and to not work harder you wish (unless your parents are paying for your music education!). Do as much as you enjoy and your music will always be pleasing to you.

“But you’re playing it wrong!”

“That’s how I learned it from so-and-so.”

“Well, it really goes like this.”

How often have you heard that? Probably quite a lot. In classical music it is, of course, important to play a piece exactly as it was written. But in many other styles, “right” is much more flexible;

It’s not just that you can arrange a tune in a different style, such as making a Celtic tune into a jazz tune, or a march into a tango, but in keeping with certain traditional styles, the chords and/or the arrangement can be up to you, sometimes the melody is subject to a certain amount of interpretation, and lyrics can vary. A tune may appear in differing iterations from player to player or region to region. (In fact, songwriter Si Kahn often sings different lyrics to his own songs, changing one or two words, or whole phrases, but not necessarily the meanings.)

In traditional music, the wish for tunes and arrangements to be exact and immutable is common among newcomers who don’t realize that the folk process is part of the genre. As long as slightly differing versions can be played together in sessions, there’s really no problem. If the differences are too great, someone gets to sit out the tune, or introduce their version.

So  – what exactly is the folk process? It is the tendency of melodies and lyrics to change, a lot or a little, as they are passed from person to person and generation to generation. It’s that simple.

An example most people might recognize is The Bonnie Swan, sung by Loreena McKinnit. She didn’t compose the lyrics; she adapted them. This tale (the drowning of a young girl by her jealous sister and the subsequent making of a fiddle or a harp out of her hair and bones) has been told and retold in song since Medieval times. I first heard it as a very simple song called Oh the Wind and Rain, sung by Margaret MacArthur, and later recorded another version (learned from Jean Farnworth) on my first album MistCoveredMountains. There are probably hundreds of versions of this song.

Another example is the Irish tune Star of the County Down, which is played as a march (4/4) or as a waltz (3/4), and can be either an instrumental or a song (the style of the lyrics doesn’t sound as old as the tune probably is, IMHO).

Michael Cooney once did an entire 45-minute set tracing the etymology of the song Goin’ Fishin’ (if I recall correctly it was popularized by Country Joe and the Fish). It was fascinating to hear not only how the lyrics and the melody had changed over time, but how the meaning of the song had morphed. One older version went: “Say you’re goin’ fishin’ all of the time, well I’m a-goin’ fishin’ too. Bet your life your sweet wife can catch more fish than you!”… and it wasn’t literally about fishing at all, as was the watered-down popular version.

When it comes to arrangements, the folk process is even more evident. You can find any given melody with any number of different arrangements, or create your own (traditional and folk music are the music of the people, and we are the people). The only limitation would be that if you play it in a session, it has to be jam-able (in the commonly used key and time signature for that tune, and with predictable chords). In performance, however, you have free reign.

Keys in which tunes are played are also somewhat flexible. Most traditional tunes have a specific key by mass agreement, because it’s easier for session groups to not have to decide on a key every time the tune is played, and/or because some instruments commonly used in these genres are best played in those keys. But if you play solo or with a performance group, you can play in whatever keys you wish.

Since the folk process occurs when people remember a piece differently from the way they heard it played (or they change a piece for whatever reason), the use of notation and tablature prevent the folk process. In the big picture, this is neither good nor bad. Personally, I enjoy hearing different versions of tunes and songs, but it’s also fun to know exactly how something was played a hundred or more years ago.

(There’s a new trend in some sessions to use notation and/or tablature. As I mentioned in a previous post, that’s because these days, musicians don’t have as much opportunity to learn the way traditional musicians did in the past  – by hearing it so much that we absorb everything about it  –  and therefore notation and tablature have become extremely helpful for the less experienced. But someone should explain that just because there is notation or tablature doesn’t make it the law, that providing it is a courtesy and not a requirement, and that using it should be optional.)

Because of the folk process, tunes tend to morph regionally. One region’s version isn’t better or worse than another’s, just different. When in another region, it’s a good idea to make an effort to play it their way, but sharing your own region’s version can be interesting as well.

In these respects, therefore, traditional and folk music differ greatly from classical music and other genres in which change is not acceptable. We must recognize that every genre has its own rules and we can’t apply one’s rules to another.

 

The folk process is also somewhat influenced by mis-heard lyrics. Google “Mondegreens” if you want a good giggle.

 

The upshot of all this is: relax. If a tune isn’t being played the way you’re familiar with it, just enjoy it the way it is. It can be fun to learn several versions of a tune or song, and it’s always a good idea to accept other musicians’ ways of playing their repertoire. Most importantly, remember that change, informality, and improvising are traditional. Embrace the folk process!

Below is a new blog post.

In addition, you’ll notice that this site has a new look, and several new pages.  That’s because I’ve made it into a full website. It now contains  my online store, complete bio, testimonials, info on therapeutic music, and more.

Why this new website? To better represent ALL of the musical styles, instruments, products and ideas that are of interest to my readers, students, fans and peers.

Please bear with me as I continue to update this site, especially the online store. It will probably take a few more weeks to get everything just right; creating a new website is a complex process. Meanwhile, my harp website (www.laurieriley.com) will remain  functional until I get this one completed.

Please browse the pages you see listed above, and enjoy!

Some research indicates that when we actively (rather than passively) listen to music  –  in other words, when we focus and pay attention to the music we hear  –  it is processed in the same area of the brain as language. The same is true when we learn music by ear. In all respects, music is a language; a system of communication.

without sufficient prior listening and participatory exposure, learning music from notation forces us to use only the part of the brain that also processes mathematics. Although music and mathematics are intimately related (see my book Singing the Universe Awake), true music-learning should utilize also the part of the brain that processes language. If music is to be played in a way that is more than robotic, it must be learned as language is learned  –  aurally first, and then later refined through the use of written symbols. Expecting a new student to learn music notation is putting the cart before the horse. Yet most music students are handed a book of notation in their first lesson, and learning to read music begins immediately, before they’ve processed the piece aurally.

Let’s look at how one develops linguistically. Imagine a toddler living without the stimulation of hearing adults speak. Without hearing people speak, recognizing that it is a form of communication, and learning its meanings from constant exposure to it,  he or she would have no way to even begin to understand or use language. Luckily, most children are spoken to constantly, and they make noises (and even have fun with them), and over time they begin to recognize that adults and older siblings are using specific tones of voice to convey meaning. Later they recognize specific words as well as subtle nuances of meaning conveyed by the modulations and dynamics of speech. As the child tries to master this, mistakes are made, but no matter. The process is natural and stress-free. No one is judging.

Notice I said that first the child recognizes tones of voice. A voice can sound angry, happy, encouraging, and so on, and one need not always understand the words to get the gist. If you do know the words, the tone used is so important that it can even override the meaning of the words. If, for instance, you consistently said “no” in a happy way, the child would come to think of “no” as “yes”. A word’s meaning is conveyed largely by the tone of voice. The same is true in music. The meanings of the notes and the melody are conveyed by the way they are played. How can we expect music to be meaningful if we’re playing only the notes without the musical expression? The notes alone do not convey anything except a series of pitches.

Now imagine a toddler being told, “You must not speak until you can read and write.” The child’s ability to speak would be stunted forever. Language cannot be learned effectively just from the written page. It has to be heard, mimicked, and experimented with before it becomes coherent and meaningful. Yet we expect to learn music from the written page alone, and we’re told it’s wrong to learn it by ear! How insane is that?

And what if a babbling toddler were told, “Those noises are wrong. Don’t make any noise unless it’s a word.” This would be impossible. The child would give up and never speak. Yet this is exactly what we are told about learning music  –  to play only structured tunes, exercises and pieces. Is it any wonder that many people give up on learning music?

Aside from the problems associated with non-aural learning, many music students also tend to think that advanced skills should develop more quickly than they do. But how long does it take to learn good language skills? At first we speak in a way that is far from skilled. After a few years we are doing much better, and later we begin to experiment with subtleties such as slang and humor. It takes years to develop advanced vocabulary, and a long time to learn to read well. Music is no different.

Often at a first music lesson, the teacher opens a book, sets it on the music stand, and proclaims, “Here is the music.” Well, you could listen all day to that book and never hear any music. The page itself is silent. There is no music there. What is there is a tool from which music can be brought forth. It’s not just the notes and symbols that make it meaningful, but how it’s expressed. But true expression cannot be learned from the page.

Many students believe they can’t learn any music by ear. Yet when coached, they almost always do it easily. If you “can’t” learn by ear, it’s usually because no one has ever taught you how. If you were a dancer who had only ever learned ballet, how would you expect to know automatically how to bellydance? You wouldn’t. They are different skills, but when both learned, they create a richer database of experience.

Please note that I am not saying one should learn only by ear. In language if one learns to speak but never learns to read and write, one is illiterate; in other words, important skills are missing. Likewise, well-rounded musicianship involves aural and technical skills and the ability to read and write music. Learning music as a language makes one a well-rounded, skilled and expressive musician. If you’re human you can learn by ear. You learned to speak, didn’t you?

The audience sits ready to hear the musician in concert, looking forward to an enjoyable performance. The musician stands backstage, ready to begin. He or she may feel quite confident, or may be scared to death. Chances are that if the performer has practiced adequately, he or she has some confidence that the concert will go well. On the other hand, excess adrenalin can make the hands shake or sweat, the head spin, and the mind go haywire. A well-practiced set can become a disaster.

It’s considered common wisdom that stage fright is normal for the neophyte but is less of an issue as one gains skill and experience. Yet this is often not true. There’s a story about Pablo Cassals (the renown cellist) who upon injuring his hand actually felt relieved to think he might never have to perform again. This is not an uncommon feeling among professional musicians. (His hand healed, by the way, and he continued his career.)

Although there are those who exude confidence, for many amateurs and professionals stage fright is the bane of our existence. You can’t always tell which performers are scared, because part of being a good performer is knowing how to look confident. Yet putting one foot in front of the other to walk onto a stage can feel like walking to a gallows, when what we really want is to enjoy our own performances! Why perform otherwise?

The strangest thing about stage fright is that it’s the fright itself that can cause a performance to be less than perfect. You know you have the musical skill, so “there is nothing to fear but fear itself.”

Where does stage fright originate, and why does it persist? The answer is simple: stage fright persists in our musical culture because we have come to expect performances to be note-perfect. Among musicians of all ages and skill levels, that attitude alone is responsible for more grief than can be measured.

It probably arose with the advent or recording. We can engineer a recording to be perfect, and/or play a piece over and over until we’ve recorded a “perfect” version”, so we can present to the listener something that tells a lie about performance. It’s necessary, of course, because a recording gets played again and again, and no one wants to hear the same mistakes over and over. But since most listeners are not necessarily musicians, or perhaps even though they may be musicians, the perfection of a recording creates the impression that all performances can and should be perfect.

Sustained perfection is not humanly possible. Expecting anyone to do what no one can do is not just unrealistic, it’s insane. We may as well expect ourselves to sprout wings and fly.

I once attended a recital of J.S. Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier (a set of twelve pieces) by an accomplished pianist, who made a mistake about two-thirds of the way through the concert. She stopped, went back to the first piece and started the entire set over, whereupon she made it through without audible error. The audience had to sit through what we’d already heard, it became a very long concert, and though she got through the second time without error, why did she do this to her audience? Not because she had lost her place or could not play through her mistake. It was because she wanted to prove that she could play it perfectly. Yet all she did was prove that she could sometimes play it perfectly. This lady was more concerned about her idea of “perfection” and about her pride than about musicianship.

It’s fair to say that audiences can be hard on performers, too. Some years ago, a friend of mine (one of the most accomplished harpers alive today) performed at a local venue, and I was unable to attend; later I asked someone how the concert was. The report I was given consisted of one sentence: “He hit a bass string that buzzed really loudly, right in the middle of one piece.”  That was the entirety of the report; it was the main thing the listener remembered. Yet I know for a fact that there were hundreds of beautiful and well-played notes before and after the one “bad” note; this harpist cannot be anything other than brilliant.

Perfection and musicianship are not synonymous!

In fact, striving for perfection can get in the way of musicianship. We tend to give undue negative attention to mistakes, not because there is some inherent importance to them, but simply because we are taught to. Those awful piano recitals when we were kids, for instance, were like sending lambs to slaughter, accomplishing nothing more than hammering into young, impressionable minds the idea that our worth as human beings should be judged by whether or not we can play a piece of music perfectly. When our identity is at stake, no wonder we develop chronic stage fright.

The fact is, in most performances good players simply cover and play through imperfections so you don’t notice them. When a mistake occurs that cannot be hidden, many good performers will make a joke and keep going; the audience most often will enjoy the humor and appreciate that the performer is human. If we were not so hard on ourselves, and if we nurtured audiences to look for the beauty and wonder in a performance instead of eagle-eyeing for mistakes, it would make our music more joyful to play and to hear.

Playing Accurately vs. Playing Perfectly

Of course we want to play accurately; that is, we want our music to have recognizable melodies, harmonies, rhythms, and so on.  We should strive for the music to be audibly “all there”. But accuracy is not synonymous with perfection. Accuracy is simply precision, and it’s part of good musicianship. We can play in a precise way and still make occasional errors.

Many amateur musicians slur over notes or let thunks and clunks happen where notes should be; that’s not accuracy. Or one may allow their music to have inconsistent timing or imprecise rhythms; that’s not accuracy. If you’re not playing accurately you need more practice. What doesn’t work in the privacy of your living room won’t work in performance.

Once you’ve attained accuracy, your errors will decrease as well, but I know of no one who has ever achieved the ability to play music without an occasional error. Therefore, being afraid of making mistakes is, as I said before, insane. Don’t buy into that. If you’ve practiced well, there is no reason for fear, and anyone who would fault you for an occasional error isn’t listening for the actual music anyway.

Making Your Music Your Own, Within the Style You Play 

There are purists whose aim is to preserve every piece of traditional music in the exact form they find it. This preserves musical styles, but the folk process (the natural tendency of aurally-learned music to undergo change) is an essential part of our heritage, too. Folk music is the music of the people. We are the folk.

There are some some forms of music in which the folk process is not appropriate. Written music serves the purpose of preventing the folk process, which is absolutely necessary for classical music and original compositions that a composer wishes to be preserved intact.

Within each musical style, there is a set of usually-unwritten and often unspoken “rules” that make the music sound right for the style. In certain social groups in various regions, locally and globally, there are subtle and profound differences within musical styles, much like the regional dialects that we hear in spoken word. Music is a language; therefore it develops dialects just a spoken language does.

Awareness of these musical dialects comes with exposure. Therefore, for instance, people who grow up with one style of music sometimes don’t know there are others! I recently met an elderly man at an old-time music camp who played mostly Texas Swing music, which is a distinct old style that is easily recognizable and is characterized by certain rhythms and chord progressions, and he played it very well. Occasionally he would join an Old-Time jam (“Old-Time” refers to music originally from the Appalachian back-country, which is also quite distinct from other styles). In conversation he remarked to me, “This Old-Time music is OK but I don’t like it all that much. I’d rather play regular music.” I asked him what he meant by ‘regular”. He said, “You know, all the other music.” It was clear to me that he was actually referring to what he grew up with  –  Texas Swing  –  and that in his experience that was “all the other music”.

Interestingly, classically trained and other “paper-trained” (no insult intended) musicians sometimes assume that if a piece can be read from notation, it’s right. But notation lacks certain information; without the impossible-to-notate nuances of musical dialect, it comes out sounding not so right, at least to the ears of those who do know the style. (It’s fair to say that as an ear-learner, I am a sad case when it comes to playing classical music, so it goes both ways.)

Here are a few observations about Celtic music styles. There isn’t just one “Celtic” style. There’s Irish, Scottish, Breton, Galician, Manx, Welsh, and CapeBreton, and within those there are variations depending, for instance on which part of the country the musician comes from. For example:

*CapeBreton style fiddlers use a tone that may sound harsh and scratchy to, say, a Scottish Fiddler.

*Irish and Scottish music are characterized by specific rhythms and ornamented melodies, and harmony types that depend largely on 5ths and octaves.

*Scottish music contains specific ornaments that you won’t hear in Irish music. There are also Scottish dance music styles you won’t find in Irish music. For a list and explanation please see The Harper’s Manual (available at www.laurieriley.com , click on “books”). Although the book is for harpers, it contains info that most musicians can use.

*There is an Irish singing style called Sean Nos, meaning “old style”, from which the tradition of Irish tenors emerged. For female singers, the voice is quite high-pitched and sometimes sounds thin. From this style of singing came the Appalachian (American Southeast) “High Lonesome” singing style still sometimes used by male and female singers in Bluegrass and Old Time music.

*Breton music has French influences. Medieval French music sounds simple to the unitiated, until you try to learn it. The melodies are repetitive but quite complex in format and in rhythm, and don’t stop or pause where you might expect them to if you’re accustomed to playing Irish or Scottish music.

*Galician music has Moorish and Celtic influences. It can sound quite Middle Eastern and Irish at the same time.

*Manx music has Norse and Celtic roots. Nordic music has differently timed ornaments and uses interesting modes and scales. See Beth Kolle’s book “The Northern Folk Harp” for some great tunes.

The way instruments are used in each culture differs greatly from the way they are used in Eurocentric classical music. For instance:

*A classical guitarist wants a round tone and plenty of sustain, while a Flamenco (Spanish Dance style) guitarist wants a more brash sound that can be heard above the clatter of stomping feet.

*A traditional fiddler from just about anywhere often concentrates more on stylistic essences and a bit less on tone production than does a classical violinist, for whom tone is paramount.

*An Irish flute player plays a wooden flute and aims for a somewhat nasal tone, whereas a classical flautist strives for a round tone on a silver flute. (I use the term flautist out of respect for those who prefer the term rather than flutist, though I’m told many classical musicians these days feel it’s too affected. But if I didn’t use it, someone would correct me!)

*A Bluegrass mandolin player aims for speed and rhythm, whereas a classical mandolinist aims for accuracy and expression.

This is not to say that there isn’t some overlap. Cello, for instance, is a classical instrument, but is used very effectively in Scottish music (i.e. Abby Newton). And there are some classical violinists who can play Celtic styles wonderfully. And one of my favorite Irish pennywhistle players is James Galway, the famous classical flautist.

Well, I guess I’ve said enough for now about styles. I’ll change the subject completely for the next post.

Personal Style

Whether you’re aware of it or not, you have a personal style of playing (in addition to the genre of music you play). Your personal style is not necessarily something you develop on purpose, and though many musicians do make conscious decisions in that realm, your life experiences in general seep into your playing and/or singing, and make your way of expressing your music unique. Nearly every aspect of your personality is at play (pun intended). There are usually both negative and positive affects, and working on eliminating the negative ones and nurturing the positive ones makes us better musicians.

An obvious example of subconsciously derived personal playing style is that someone who has a gentle personality often plays delicately, and someone with a strident, loud personality often plays loudly and stridently. But many musical mannerisms are far more subtle.

Musical mannerisms are what grab your listeners and either endear you to them or not. And the listener often can’t put a finger on what makes them like or dislike a performance, aside from obvious basic skills. Your subconsciously derived musical mannerisms also give your audience a window into who you are; because you cannot help but express your innermost being through your music, music is one of the most personally exposing activities we ca engage in, and when we have an audience we are sharing our souls with strangers!

The only exception I can think of is with classically trained orchestral musicians, who must learn to blend into the orchestra and therefore must have no individual musical mannerisms that would cause them to stand out and be a distraction. But that doesn’t mean they can’t choose otherwise of they play solo, as we can readily see among famous classical soloists.

I once watched the great Segovia coaching a master student in the playing of a certain piece of classical guitar repertoire, dictating every nuance of the piece, not allowing the student to do anything his own way. Yet I guarantee that as a soloist the student went on to perform the piece his own way to an audible degree.

Personal style differences are easiest to discern when the musician is very good. Less experienced musicians’ personal styles are often not fully developed or are lost among various skill issues. But then, even “issues” can identify certain musicians. When I was younger I was often told my singing voice sounded like Judy Collins. I was embarrassed, because I knew she would have been insulted (I used to have a good, well-trained voice but I was no Judy Collins!). After listening closely to see what people were actually hearing, I realized that what she and I had in common were some very similar imperfections. Her mastery outweighed those imperfections, but mine did not. It was interesting that people identified our two rather different voices as “similar” by the imperfections we shared rather than noticing the quality disparity! Over time I took notice of how certain musicians, especially singers, seem to copy other musicians, purposefully or subconsciously, and how often what they copy are the imperfections rather than the good qualities. As a voice teacher it’s often hard to convince a student that the emulated affectation isn’t helping them achieve mastery.

So… as musicians we’re influenced by our own inner quirks and by what we’ve heard others do, and the results may be positive or negative, and we may be totally unaware. If you’re unsure about what you might be doing, video yourself and get an honest critique from someone you can trust to tell you the truth. Then work on what needs improving and nurture what’s positive.

Genres and Their Regional Styles

In a previous post I wrote about musical genres, so I won’t reiterate that. There are so many styles of acoustic music that it would take a very thick book to discuss them all in detail. I want to write here about being aware of style differentiation.

Suffice it to say that when we start to learn an instrument, we choose a musical genre in which to concentrate. Any genre can be further divided by regional and national style. For example, in each region of Ireland there is a different fiddling style. One can tell where a fiddler is from just by hearing him or her play. This is true on many countries and regions.

The main reason regional styles develop is the same reason regional accents and speech idioms do. Before there was efficient transportation, regions were separated by geologic features such as mountains or oceans or great distance, and music styles evolved in semi-isolation. In the Appalachian area of the southeastern U.S., someone from the next valley over was called a “furriner” (foreigner)! To this day one can often pick out differences in fiddle and banjo styles from one area of the Appalachia to another.

Interestingly, Bluegrass music is an offshoot of Old Time music that came about because of the difference between those who call themselves “Hillbillies” (yes, they really do, and proudly) and those who live in lowland areas. Old Time music was traditionally played mostly by mountain people, and Bluegrass was originally played mostly by flatlanders. Further, both Old Time and Bluegrass music are products of the mixing of two very different cultures: Celtic and African  –  the people who settled there. (Various styles of music are often intimately intertwined with the development of the instruments themselves. The banjo’s ancestor originated in Africa. It is now used for playing mostly American tunes that can be traced to Ireland and Scotland.)

In the modern, cosmopolitan world we have more of a melting-pot than we used to, so regional differences have faded a bit for many things such as fashion, speech, manners, morals, and music. But some influences are still strong and regional music styles continue to morph and grow everywhere.

Personal Styles that Become Iconic

Styles, both regional and national, are sometimes influenced by certain respected individuals. To name just a very few, Kim Robertson has highly influenced harping style on an international scale, Ken Perlman has had a specific influence on clawhammer banjo, Doc Watson influenced guitar playing, and so on. Nearly every very well known musician influences the styles that become popular on their instrument. Also, many who are not well known but who are locally respected can inspire others locally, from whence it spreads to other regions, going far beyond where anyone knows the person who originally provided the influence.

Modern Influences on Traditional Genres

Modern influences have very much found their way into what used to be traditional music. That’s part of the Folk Process, a process by which aural-tradition music changes as it passes from person to person and generation to generation. Some nuances cannot be traced.

These days I see a disturbing trend happening in folk and traditional music, as many students are taught all their music from the printed page, and more and more groups play only from sheet music. It’s rather generic and devoid of stylistic nuance. Traditional music was, through countless generations, learned aurally, with all its rich nuances. What have we lost? Why has this changed? Because in our modern society, music is no longer the background of our lives. Sure, we hear it in commercials and we hear highly engineered pop and rock on TV and radio, but most of us don’t grow up with our parents and siblings and friends playing music every day in our homes, most of us don’t have music gatherings in our homes on a regular basis, and Americans don’t spend our evenings at family-oriented pubs where music is played by people we know, all evening, every evening. We’ve lost our music anchor, and are adrift in a roaring sea of commercial music from which we cannot learn our part. So we’ve become dependent on the printed page, which provides symbols that tell us the notes and the timing, but which is not the music itself, and definitely not the soul of the music.

If you really want to learn the music you’ve chosen, go to sessions and listen in person to players of a variety of the instruments that are used in that genre. You can’t get the whole picture just by listening to the kind of instrument you play. Go to as many performances as you can. Take as many workshops as you can. Seek mentoring. Learn from people, not just paper.

 

 

 

(Part 4 of “The Teacher-Student Relationship”)

What “qualifies” one to teach? Well, no one wrote a rule book on it, and in very real ways we are all teachers. So there’s no definitive way to answer the question. But if you’d like to be teaching and aren’t sure if you’re qualified, perhaps a few of these checklist items can help you decide:

1. Do you know that you play reasonably well by regional and perhaps national standards?
2. Can you teach all levels from beginning to advanced?
3. If you’re self-taught, do you honestly feel that your homespun technique allows you to play as skillfully (or more so) than others who play the same instrument?
4. Do you have a good reputation for performances you have done?
5. Do you have any teaching experience in another field?
6. Do you have a method or plan that you know is viable?
7. Are you willing to be flexible with your method, modifying it for individual needs?
8. Are you familiar with more than one technique?
9. Are you confident that you can handle students’ insecurities, stubbornness, fear, over-confidence, parents, or whatever challenges they may present?
10. Are you patient and cheerful?
11. Can you advise students on effective practice habits?
12. Are you good at motivating people to practice and to do their best?
13. Are you willing to be cooperative with other teachers in your community?
14. It helps to be over-qualified; to have extensive experience, education, and practice.

If you’ve been asked to teach and can answer the above items positively, you probably won’t fall prey to the “impostor syndrome” (the nagging sensation many professionals have that we’re not qualified to be doing what we’re doing).

After that, how do you know when you’re doing a good job? Think about your favorite teachers, the ones who have qualities we should all strive for as teachers. You probably like them for a reason. Chances are they:

• Are good role models musically
• Engage students  in discussion and activities
• Respect what students say and ask, and answer questions thoroughly and politely
• Have good command of musical terminology appropriate for your style of music
• Have a sense of humor
• Know basic music theory
• Smile a lot, have a good sense of humor, welcome and encourage laughter
• Don’t skip or gloss over basic material, make no assumptions about what students already know
• Teach by sharing rather than showing

How you approach teaching will affect your reputation, and more importantly, can affect people’s lives. Music is such a deeply felt medium of expression that every musical experience a student has affects their self esteem. As teachers, our responsibility is to make lessons enjoyable, productive and inspiring.

Every teacher needs to be aware that no individual can teach every style and every skill on any given instrument. Be sure that your method is appropriate for the styles your students want to learn! A classical musician can’t presume to teach folk, traditional or ethnic music (and vice versa) unless you have specifically immersed yourself in those styles; a pop musician may not have a complete understanding of progressive jazz; a bluegrass musician is farther from an old time musician than one might realize; and so on. If you don’t have a good working knowledge and plenty of experience in a particular style, be prepared to refer some students on to other teachers.

Regardless of the instrument and the style of music being taught, teacher and student have a 50-50 responsibility to make lessons work. If a student cannot (that’s different from “will not”) learn using a particular method, it’s the responsibility of the teacher to change the method. No two students learn the same way. By “method” I mean, for instance, with or without music notation, with one or another hand position, with or without picks or fingernails, and also whether the emphasis is on aural, visual or tactile learning. (People are roughly divided into one of three learning strengths: aural, visual, or tactile; and will do best if taught accordingly, and often even better if taught all three.)

Additionally, you can find out, as you get to know each student, what goals mean the most to them. Those who want to become professionals, and have what it takes to do so, will show this by their behavior, attitude, and progress. Those who want to play for themselves in the privacy of their living rooms will thrive on a totally different approach. Some would like to be able to play in an ensemble but not solo, and some just want to hold their own in a jam session. You will encounter all kinds of reasons why people want to play music. All are valid.

If you have very young students, you’ll want to determine whether a child is taking lessons because he or she wants to, or because the parents have decreed it. In the latter case, the student may not be very interested, and you may suggest to the parents that they wait a little longer before requiring lessons, or encourage them to ask the child which instrument he or she really wants to play. However, a child who is eager to learn must not be held back just because he or she is very young. Very young children learn quickly! My youngest student was three years old. Teaching children is a specialty, though, as they require special nurturing and the teacher has to motivate the parents as well as the child.

On the other end of the scale, some adult students may come to you asking, “Am I too old?” I think the best answer is, “Of course not!” My oldest student was 93, and she did well. The ability to learn is usually only limited by attitude and belief. Although the neural pathways of an older adult form more slowly than those of a young person, one is never too old to learn (unless dementia is present).

Rarely, you may encounter “low musical I.Q.”, in which someone is perfectly functional in other areas but doesn’t respond to musical education, and they just can’t get beyond a very elementary level of musicality. Even though such students may not make the teacher feel useful, very often they really enjoy what they do learn, and for that reason, I think they deserve as much effort from the teacher as he or she might give to a more able student. After all, teaching music is about sharing the joy it brings, and who are we to decide that one person gets less joy out of it than another?

 

Next time… Part 5 on The Teacher Student Relationship

 

 

 

First, many thanks to my readers for all your supportive comments! I’m glad you enjoy reading my posts as much as I enjoy writing them.

I’d like to diverge from the current series on the teacher-student relationship (will resume with next post), to comment on the tempos at which we play our music.

The tempo you choose can make or break a piece, but maybe not in the ways you might think! How fast is “upbeat”? Does it differ for various styles? And why do those pyrotechnic folks play so darn fast, anyway?

Whether you play from notation or by ear, every musician makes a choice about how fast or slow each piece is played.  If you use music notation, there is often a tempo indicated. (For those unfamiliar with it, the number that usually appears  at the top  of the page (such as 98 or 120 or whatever)is the suggested setting for a metronome. If you learn by ear, the tempo on a recording or video is probably what you’ll aim for. If you have a teacher or mentor, he or she will probably advise you.

Many new musicians try to play pieces “up to tempo” as soon as possible, long before they are ready to do so. The result is sloppiness and frustration. It’s better to practice every new tune SLOWLY for a LONG TIME. It will come up to speed on its own as your accuracy and kinesthetic sense improves.

Some people play too fast because they’re afraid of playing too slow, as if someone would scold them. That’s self-defeating. It usually results in sloppiness, which isn’t enjoyable for either the player or the listener. Better to play slower and accurately. If anyone gives you any guff, just tell them to show you their Music Police badge.

Another reason you might play too fast is because, as you learn a tune, the brain automatically wants to maintain the status quo; if you’re a bit tense as you learn, your brain maintains the tension by speeding up the tune so it’s always just over the edge of control. Practice should allow you to relax more and more, so if you notice that you’re not making progress on a tune, slow it down and you might be surprised that you can actually play it much better when it’s slower. (When you’re tense, the brain interprets that there must be a threat of some kind, so that tune becomes associated subconsciously with threat.)

It’s also common to play too fast when we’re nervous, which can happen in a lesson or a performance. The most common reason for messing up on stage is because we’re playing much faster than we do in practice, due to the effects of adrenalin, and the fingers can’t keep up because it’s much faster than you realize. When on stage, I play everything slower than I think I should, so it actually comes out just right.

Some musicians think playing fast shows off their skill. But upbeat music should have character and finesse, and the musical quality of a tune should not be sacrificed for speed. Playing really fast is not the most important skill.

All that said, many musicians would like to know how to at least get their tunes up to the tempos they should be played at. So how do you learn to play “fast” and accurately? Easy. Play slow for a long, long time. Honest. Surely you’ve heard musicians who play fast but you can’t really tell what all the notes were supposed to be, because they’re sloppy; those are the ones who practice fast. And you’ve heard musicians who play fast but you can hear every single note becasue they’re clean and accurate players; these are the ones who practice their tunes slowly and patiently, and focus on details. When the tune is finally committed to muscle memory and can accurately and cleanly be played faster than the brain can think and the eye can move, one can practice it that way sometimes. But it won’t stay that way if you don’t also go back and play it slowly just as often as you play it fast.

So, how fast is too fast? I’ll comment mostly about Old Time, Bluegrass and Celtic music here, but the same principles apply to most styles.

A good rule of thumb for, say, dance tunes is that they should be played no faster than a dancer can dance. And any “fast” music should be played in such a way that all the notes can be heard, the melodies are recognizable, and you can still play expressively.

I used to attend an annual festival at which groups of Old Time fiddlers jammed all day and all night. I was a vendor, and my booth was in earshot of them, so I had many hours of captive listening. Over time I was able to recognize many of the tunes by name. Later when I began to learn some of the tunes on banjo, I was amazed that the melodies I knew in my head from listening to the fiddlers bore little resemblance, except for the chord structure, to the ones I was learning by the same names! The melodies I “knew” were comprised of only the downbeat notes! There were a lot of notes in between that I had never heard. Why? Because the fiddlers had played them so darn fast. I learned that the actual melodies were a lot more interesting and complex.

Playing over the speed limit does the music no favors. The only exception I know of is playing Bluegrass, if it’s played well. The whole purpose of the faster bluegrass tunes is to show off the exceptional skills of the players who can fit a million notes into a split second  –  but cleanly, so you can hear every note. Celtic and Old Time music are not meant to be played as fast and furious as Bluegrass. Yes, Bluegrass evolved from Old Time music, and Old Time music evolved from Celtic music. But the three styles are quite distinct in character and execution.

Old Time music evolved and is still played in the rural Southeastern U.S., played by hard-working farmers and laid-back country folk who enjoy a long afternoon sittin’ in the front porch swing. It’s zone-out music, not meant to be entertaining for the listener, and it’s almost trance-enducing for the player. Don’t get me wrong; it’s nothing like the slow and unstructured music of the New Age genre; quite the opposite, with its often sprightly tempos and complex melodies. But if you know them well, you can just let your fingers dance on the strings using muscle memory while your conscious brain isn’t heavily engaged. You can’t play them overly fast and still relax, because you’d have to concentrate too hard.

Celtic music contains several types of tunes. Below is a list with the time signatures for each type. Don’t mistake time signature for tempo!*  I’ve given suggested tempos (beats per minute or “bpm”) as well.

Strathspeys: skipping set dances, with many Scottish snaps or cuts (Scottish ornaments); tempos should be moderate, and emphasis should be on the backbeat to catch the dancers in the air. (Too much emphasis on the downbeat makes the dance sound like elephants stomping.) Suggested tempo: 120 bpm.

Jigs: 6/8 time, lively, emphasis on first and/or fourth beat, with a lilt. Jigs can have different personalities, so tempo can vary from about 100 to 126 bpm.

Reels: 4/4 time, lively but smooth, emphasis on second and fourth beats, to catch the dancers in the air. About 160 bpm is good for dancing.

Marches: 2/4 or 6/8 time, strident, a walking rhythm, stately. Play it no faster than you can imagine an army marching. Suggested tempo:  80 to 84 bpm.

Polkas: 2/4 time, lively. About 126 bpm.

Hornpipes: 4/4 time, with a lilt or dotted rhythm that often is not written into the music; many triplets for ornamentation. Slower than a reel.  About 126 bpm.

Slide:12/8 time, lively, fourth and tenth beats emphasized. About 116 bpm.

Waltzes: 3/4 time, with a lilt; Irish waltzes are faster than American ones. About 138 bpm.

Airs: slow, moody, pretty, attention to dynamics and phrasing, can be quite slow.

Laments: very slow, moody, sad, often no particular time signature

Sean Nos: a capella vocal music which is slow; no time signature (free-form)

Piobroch: starts simple and slow, and works up to a highly ornamented finish with variations; time signature is irrelevant as it is a free-form style.

 

*Regarding the difference between a tempo and a time signature, the time signature just tells you how many beats there are in each measure and which kind of note gets one beat, but it doesn’t tell you the rate of speed of the beats. (A measure is not a measurement of a rate of speed.) For instance, a piece in 4/4 might be a march or a reel; those are two different tempi.

The Five Ways of Learning

It’s well known that individuals learn in at least one of five ways:

• Aural
• Verbal
• Visual
• Experiential
• Tactile

Aural learners retain what they have heard. If they have only read it, they may not retain it. I had a history teacher who was wise enough to have us read a chapter each night, and the next day he would verbally reiterate the material in the chapter. I read the chapters, but I learned from his telling. I guarantee there were others who learned not from his telling, but from reading the chapters.

Verbal learners retain what they themselves have spoken. They need to repeat or discuss what they are learning (not just hear it) to set it in their memory.

Visual learners retain what they have seen; they may learn from watching videos, demonstrations or procedures. I’ve heard some students say that watching videos is a waste of time, but those are usually the ones who learn best some other way.

Experiential learners have to do a specific activity to retain information, rather than just being told about, watching, or reading about it.  Role-playing is a good tool for experiential learners.

Tactile learners are similar to experiential learners with the addition that the experience must involve touch. For instance, some people can’t remember telephone numbers verbally, but can dial them because their fingers know the patterns. Tactile earners often learn to play musical instruments well if not made to concentrate on the printed music as much as on the kinesthetic patterns of the music.

Good teaching uses all these elements, not just the one the teacher learned with, and not just the one that a particular student best relates to, but all of them for every student. Although each student will have a favored way of learning, all benefit using all the senses in the learning process. The tactile and experiential elements are covered by playing the instruments; the verbal part is what you say, ask, and discuss; the aural part is the music they hear; and the visual part is what is in books as well as the melodic and harmonic patterns they see.

Defining Expectations

Many students come to their first few lessons not knowing what to expect of the teacher or what the teacher expects of them. They may have had experiences with other teachers that are very different, or they may have never had lessons before. It helps a student relax and learn more easily if the teacher communicates specific formats and guidelines in the first lesson. These can be printed and handed to the student and/or parent. Here are some suggestions:

 A Student’s Responsibilities:

• To arrive on time, and stay until the scheduled ending time

• To be attentive

• To respect the teacher and the material being presented, and consider the efficacy of the material offered

• To do all the work as requested, and to practice at home between lessons

• To treat other students with respect

• To participate, not just observe

• To wear no perfumes or heavily scented products to lessons or classes

• To speak up / ask questions when clarification is needed

• To voice any and all concerns, and to do so politely and respectfully

• To let the teacher know more than 24 hours in advance if you must miss a lesson

• Never come to a lesson when you or someone in your family is sick with or coming down with a contagious illness, even a cold. If you’re getting over an illness but are still coughing or sneezing, please stay home.

• If you haven’t been able to practice since your last lesson, come to your lesson anyway  –  there is always something to learn. However, chronic lack of practice should be discussed with the teacher.

The Teacher’s Responsibilities:

• Think of yourself less as a disseminator of information and more as a facilitator of learning.

• All Students have within them the ability to which they aspire. Each individual will recognize and allow it to blossom to whatever degree they believe they are capable. Show them their capability.

• Most people are more creative than they think they are. Bring out that creativity in each student.

• People enjoy good leadership. Be a confident leader, yet be humble. Remember that any one of your students may know more that you do.

• A great teacher has a good sense of humor. Don’t take yourself too seriously.

• People remember best what they have been led to discover for themselves. They remember least what they’ve merely been told. Make learning experiential. Discussion, questions, participation, and activity are all part of the experience.

• Every student learns differently. No one formula works for all. Flexibility and creativity are a teacher’s best tools. Use aural, written, tactile, and experiential teaching techniques so all individuals’ learning abilities are addressed.

• A real teacher is compassionate  –  recognizing, acknowledging, and honoring individuality.

• A true teacher learns from teaching. If you knew all there is to know, there would be little reason to teach.

• Show respect for, and encouragement to, every student.

• Answer students’ questions respectfully.

• Consider complaints fairly.

• Smile a lot!

• Require no more and no less of each student than they are capable of reasonably doing, accomplishing, or learning.

• Provide breaks, rests, and opportunities for refreshment regularly.

• Foster students’ respect for each other.

• Present all available viewpoints on the subject material, not just that which matches your opinions.

• Provide information for further study and additional sources of the subject material.