31. Taking a Day Off?

What you do everyday matters more
than what you do every once in a while.

-Gretchen Rubin

Habit: (noun) a settled or regular tendency or practice, especially one that is hard to give up.

After last summer's trumpet camp I managed to get into an early habit of practice. I had never been that consistent before and it took a while for the habit to sink in. Do it every day, we were told. Make it a habit to play the trumpet every day. One of my notes from our closing session was a quote from someone:

You can take a day off, but you can never get it back.

Then, of course, there's the famous quote attributed to just about every musician who has ever been famous:

If I miss one day’s practice, I notice it. If I miss two days’ practice, the critics notice it. If I miss three days’ practice, the public notices it.

I was a little concerned, though, since I knew that daily exercise with no breaks is not a good idea in any exercise program from biking to weight-lifting. In fact it is a cardinal rule of exercise- you need to take a day off in order to allow muscles to rebuild. If I work my upper-body today, I shouldn't work those same muscles tomorrow. Shouldn't this apply to trumpet playing? What about the muscles in my lips and cheeks?

I checked with Bill Bergren and he tried to change my mind on that. He said that the day-off rule is

not in all forms of exercise. We are building coordination. Trumpet playing has very little to do with strength.

That made a little sense to me, but unlike my work-outs there are just the facial muscles we are working on. I can't work on some and not others. They are muscles, after all.

So I started paying attention to things like how long it takes to get warmed up after a strenuous day of playing. I took note of endurance and range. I began to notice that there were good days and less than good days. Some days I was warmed-up in no time. Other days, I was having trouble getting to "G" above the staff without straining. I made sure that I was taking appropriate breaks while practicing and doing my daily routine- the old "rest as much as you play" rule. Overall, the progress was positive, but not a straight line. Only natural!

This was also after I had been working for nearly 5 months on building my embouchure, endurance, and technique. It wasn't early on so I felt I was in a better place to decipher what was happening.

So when I missed a day of practice, usually due to circumstances, I paid attention to what might have been different. What I discovered was that, in general, one day off like that did not have any major impact. Sometimes I noticed that the day of rest was actually helpful to my endurance, range, and even tone on the next day. (There probably was something to the idea of a "Sabbath day" after all.) Sometimes my technique would be slightly off, but it usually came back in warm-up.

Then we were traveling and I missed four days in a row. That I noticed. I wasn't back to square one, of course, but I had lost some of the edge. I also was not as on target with my scales or even chromatic runs.

With these experiences I did some more digging on the Internet among some of the many trumpet-based web sites. I found that most do feel that a day off on some regular basis can be helpful. It does allow for some recuperation, especially after a particularly heavy performance or strong of performances. But even those with that view were very clear- taking time off can be dangerous. I pulled out a few "guidelines" from my research:

• Take a day off by choice, not laziness- "I don't feel like it today" is not a good reason. As I write this, I have had an easier day. I didn't do my routine- by choice. I had a relatively unstrenuous gig this evening, so for the day I didn't push it since I had a more strenuous day yesterday. It isn't a true day off since I did play this evening, but it was planned this way.
• Don't play fatigued- Be aware of the limits of your body. Your muscle memory will work better if it has "good" memories of playing and not memories of how fatigued you were.
• Rest as much as you play- this goes with the fatigue issue, but also with the building of endurance.
• Do something musical even on the days you don't play- listen to some music, do some study of some music, do some musical research, keep yourself connected to your music.
• Don't make it a habit to not play. Sure you can get by with only 2 or 3 days of practice a week. I have many years experience at that. It doesn't work. You won't improve very quickly and may very likely get frustrated with your lack of progress. 
• Have fun while practicing. Don't make it a chore- make it a joy. That routine you do every day? It is essential so make it a habit. When it becomes a habit, you will miss it when you don't do it.

So, in general I agree with my friend and mentor, Bill. Daily practice is good and essential. Know that there are times when you can't practice and don't kick yourself if one of those happens. But work at it so it doesn't happen except by accident- or a clear, reasonable choice.

What have been some of your experiences with missing days of practice? Share them in the comments.

30. It's YOUR Song

Most people die with their music still locked up inside them.

― Benjamin Disraeli

Two weeks ago I did a post on "Story," the first of three things that composer, arranger, and educator Stanley Curtis on his blog Trumpet Journey calls the three "S"s. These are what he sees as the three key elements all great trumpet players have in common. They are simply

• Story
• Song and
• Support

Let's look at the second thing- Song!

Curtis wrote:

This is how we play what we play. This song can be sung with heart-on-the-sleeve romanticism, laser-beam clarity, or rhetorical interpretation. This is our personal song we sing on the trumpet when we play. Each of our voices are different–and they should be. Our song is the meeting place of our phrasing, our interpretation, our experience and, of course, our tone. I learned a beautiful lesson about tone from a former colleague of mine, the great euphonium player named Roger Behrend. He said it helps him to think about tone in terms of color, texture and taste. So, for instance, if you are thinking about maroon, velvet and chocolate, you get an especially luxurious sound. Or, perhaps you’re thinking golden, rough and with the taste of jambalaya, like I do, when I hear [Louis Armstrong]...

How we play what we play.
Just starting with that idea is enough to put it into a framework. Miles Davis famously said:

You hear three notes and you know it's Herb Alpert.

While some argue about the possible meaning, there is enough circumstantial evidence to indicate this was not a condemnation of Alpert. Instead it is a way of saying that Herb knew (and still knows) what his song is. One could certainly say the same about Davis or Chet Baker or Louis Armstrong. In every performance, in every recording, you can, in one way or another, hear the underlying song of the musician.

No- that does not mean that all the songs they do sound alike. Far from it. It's the jambalaya Curtis mentions in Armstrong. It's the California Cool in Chet Baker. It's a life of daring and innovation driving Davis. It is a curious spirituality in Coltrane. It's how they play.

The song we sing on the trumpet when we play
The song is your story. The song, as you play it, tells who you are. Now, I don't want to make too much of this. It isn't all that evident in those of us who aren't full-time professionals. Or maybe it is. Think about your playing. Think about how you play. Most of us have our "style" regardless of the music. Pay attention to it. is it you? Have fun with it in your practice room. You will notice yourself being more consistent.

The meeting place of our

• phrasing
• interpretation
• experience
• tone

That's really the crux of it.


What about me? What is my song? How do I play what I play? I never thought of that until reading Curtis' post. But then again, I knew it in my intuitive self. It started- and continues today, 55 years later- with one song- "When the Saints Go Marching In". I can now play that in all 12 major keys! (Some keys way more slowly than others!) I have at least 50 various versions of the song in my iTunes library from Dixieland to Bluegrass to "classical." Closely related to it is "Amazing Grace." I have around 90 variations of that song. Throw in "Tijuana Taxi/Spanish Flea" for some color and you can hear my song. It's how I play what I play.

What I have is blues and jazz, American gospel,  a sense of gratitude and joy. I wrap that into everything I play. It is not a surprise that the only song I have a solo on in either big band is "Basin Street Blues." My favorite solo piece for concert band is the (for me) blues-driven "Song Without Words" from Holst's 2nd Military Suite. I can probably hear that in my style from time to time when playing a Bach chorale, Moravian hymn, or Gabrieli's "Canzon #2."

So what? Always an important question. What difference does it make if I know this or not?

Does my song change? Do I play a different song today than I did 55 years ago, or even 10 years ago? For me, no. But the song does find different interpretations, tone, phrasing- all based on the changing of my experiences. Remember, the "song" is the meeting place of all those things. It is how the story gets told.

It is yours!

Don't lose it- and don't let it stay locked up inside you.

29. Practicing and Performing

Be harder on yourself in the practice room and
be easier on yourself in performance.

---Bryan Edgett

Going through my notes from the end of last year's Trumpet Camp at Shell Lake, I came across this note:

Practice like you want to perform; perform like you practice

I had some kind of intuitive idea of what that meant, kind of along the lines of the quote above from trumpeter and professor Bryan Edgett. Practice is where you work out what you want to do and performance is where you share it with others. It also meant to me that when I am practicing I should NOT just be playing the notes on the page. Instead I need to be digging into all the aspects of the music- tempo, tone, shape, groove, etc. If I can't find those in the practice room, they won't be there when I go to perform them.

I have seen that happen in my own playing with a concert band. I practice my part and have it down cold. Technically it feels right and I'm feeling good about myself. Then I get to the next rehearsal and I hear my part with the rest of the band and, oops, I can't make it happen. That means that on some level my practice has been missing some things. One of those is to see practice as a performance.

So I dropped an email to one of the faculty from last summer's camp, Bill Begren. I asked him what he took that statement about practicing and performing to mean. Here's his answer:

Performing at a high level is a habit. Develop that habit by practicing at a high level. This most often means:

• Fundamentals make up 50% to 75% of your daily practice.
• Slow down to the point where you can play without mistakes.
• Repetition is your friend.

I told Bill that I would riff on what he said- and he gave me lots of things to think about. Let's start at the top.

I had never thought of high level performing as a "habit." Sure, I knew about muscle memory and getting in the habit of doing things the right way so I don't have to fix them later. But to see performing itself as a habit was an expanded insight. If I have not gotten into the habit of practicing at a high level, I won't be able to do any performing well.

About the same time Bill wrote me the above, we had a brief conversation online about the meme that Malcolm Gladwell wrote about in his 2008 book, Outliers. What has come to be called the "10,000 Hour Rule" basically says that the key to becoming expert in any field is to have put in 10,000 hours of practice. In our instant gratification society this came as a shock to some. You mean I can't be an expert at this for what, 3 1/2 years of 8 hour days? Sorry, not for me.

The other side of instant gratification is finding an "easy" answer to getting what I want. So, if I sit down and play for x amount of time for x amount of days, even if it is 3 1/2 year, I will be an expert. Let's get started. That naturally doesn't happen that way since someone with that type of attitude isn't going to stick with it for 3 1/2 months let alone 3 1/2 years because they will not see themselves changing.

That's because just practicing for 10,000 hours alone isn't going to do it. If you do it wrong for those 10,000 hours, you will be an expert at doing it wrong. If you settle for less than your best for those 3 1/2 years, you will be great at being less than your best.  Hence, Bill's comment above that the practicing at a high level is what it's about.

But 10,000 hours of practicing and performing at a high level will lead to even higher levels of practicing and performing. THAT I find exciting and motivating. That does mean making a commitment to doing just that. After a few months of that kind of practice and performance, you will know whether you want to continue that commitment.

But what is "high-level" practicing all about. Bill gives three parts to it. The first is fundamentals. Back in the 60s and 70s Earl Weaver was the manager of the Baltimore Orioles. Weaver was known for preaching one thing over and over- it's the fundamentals that win ball games. You practice the fundamentals until they are routine. Next time you watch a baseball game, notice things like how the first baseman moves to his position to get the ball. It's habit. You watch him throughout the game and you will see him do it the same way almost every time. I have taken hundred of pictures of pitchers pitching. For each pitcher I very seldom get a picture that is unusual. He always pitches the same way.

Fundamentals.

I didn't ask Bill what he considered fundamentals. I already know the answer:

• Long tones
• Chromatics
• Daily Drills and Technical Studies
• Scales

Google "Bill Adam Trumpet Routine" and you will find the best-known of routines and many variations on it. THAT is fundamentals. Doing them over and over. One is never so good that you don't need to work on some of those early Arban's routines. Herb Alpert told me he plays scales every day. Keeping the fundamentals clear and sharp makes those 10,000 hours effective. If you have an hour to practice, at least 30 minutes of that hour should be fundamentals. I know- we don't have that kind of time. Sure we do. We find it when we up our level by practicing at high levels.

Bill Bergren's second insight into high-level practicing is to "slow down." But Bill, it says allegro! So what. I read on one of the sites I was looking at the other day that if you recognize the tune when playing it, you're not playing it slow enough. Slow down. Make sure you can ht the notes cleanly. Make sure you know what the phrase looks like. Give the phrases feeling- but do it slowly. My one teacher had to keep at me for wanting to play it too fast. I want to be able to show I can do it, that I have the technical chops to succeed at it. But when I do that I always flub up.

Sure we will get faster as time goes on, but it is the ability to play it slowly with meaning and purpose without mistakes that leads to high-level performance.

Finally, repeat, repeat, repeat. Repetition is our friend. Don't run it once and forget it. Play it. Then play it again, only better. Build your confidence. Remember the Inner Game tactic of trusting yourself in your playing? Repetition is how you get that confidence.

This isn't deep rocket science or even deep music theory of performance. It is plain old common sense. Which is why we ignore it. We think we have an easier, softer way. We think we can get it done in half the time with half the effort. Well, if it's going to take 10,000 hours no matter how you practice, why not make those 10,000 hours count!

28. Your Story

Music is philosophy. Every chord, every word tells a story. If you listen you will know its meaning.

-Kamanda Ndama (African Musician, Philosopher, Poet and Songwriter

Composer, arranger, and educator Stanley Curtis has a post on his blog Trumpet Journey that talks about the three "S"s, the three key elements he believes all great trumpet players have. They are simply

• Story
• Song and
• Support

As to the first, Story, Curtis writes:

Each of us has a unique story. That story may be an actual account of some event, or even the story of our life. But we also have our own stories that we keep coming back to, such as “beauty is great,” or “old things are cool” or “technology is what I’m about.” These are our thematic points that our choices point to.

Some might say that part of the "story" is your own personal mission statement, your view of what it is you see as your life's mission. That is your guiding principle. Most of us never think much about that, but we all live our personal "Theme and Variations" in what we do and how we go about our lives.

Most of us are more than familiar with the Arban's "Variations on Carnival of Venice." There's an introduction, the theme and then the incredible variations. Another famous similar composition is Charles Ives' "Variations on America". Throughout each composition the basic theme repeats, of course, but all kinds of styles and flourishes are added. For the listener the goal is to see the connections with the  original theme. For the performer and/or composer it is to make those connections real and interesting without going so far afield that the original concept is lost.

That's the "story" we each continue to "riff" on as we go through our lives. Sometimes the riff is fast and furious, putting as much energy as we can into it. Other times it slows down and floats along with ease. Then it switches to a minor key or some odd set of tonalities. Yet, underneath it is "you", your theme. As Curtis says above this "theme" or "story" is what informs the choices and that these choices support.

He goes on:

Choices about repertoire, style, equipment, venues, and even the clothes we wear when we perform can help create our own story and the story that each generation needs to hear. Many players perform to a story that is going on inside their heads. As listeners, we can sense that something dramatic is happening.

Choices. We all make them all the time. Most of the time we don't even think about them. Most of the time the choices we make fall into the pattern of our story. It's who we are. Why did we choose to play trumpet, instead of any of the other instruments? How does "being a trumpet player" fit into our view of our story? Why did we continue to play the trumpet? Many people learn to play instruments but many quit after college, if not before.

Last year at trumpet camp there were those who are planning on making music their career, while others will have other professions. Yet there is something about the trumpet that obviously fits our individual stories. Why?

That's the choice. It helps define us. It fills a place in our lives that nothing else quite does. How then do we tell that story in our music?

Think about your story. What is it? Where do you want to go? How does music help you do that? How does that come out in your music? Spend some time reflecting on that and practice your story this week.

-Link for above quotes from Trumpet Journey

27. Inner Game 2: Trust

The nerves are a problem on trumpet,
because when you mess up everyone can hear it.

Just remember most people are too polite
to say anything about it.

That should calm your nerves.
-- Wynton Marsalis

I have introduced the background of the Inner Game in a couple earlier posts. In the Inner Game of Music Barry Green adapted the original work of W. Timothy Gallwey. Basically Gallwey and Green describe two parts of who we are, Self 1 and Self 2. Simply put,

• If it interferes with your potential, it is Self 1.
• If it enhances your potential, it is Self 2.

The next part then is to learn and develop three fundamental “inner game” skills. Candace Brower on the Albuquerque Music Teacher’s blog writes:

Green advises us that if we want to reach our full potential as musicians, we need to learn three fundamental skills: (1) awareness, (2) will, and (3) trust. Awareness is about being fully aware of the sounds, sights, and feelings of playing while avoiding self-judgments that could distort our perceptions. Will is about setting goals, then using the feedback we get from being aware to reach our goals through a process of trial and error. Trust is about letting go of self-judgment and of the physical act of playing to Self 2 and trusting Self 2 to get it right.

Without specifically dealing with the Inner Game, I have spent quite a bit of time already on awareness (mindfulness, attention, etc.) and setting goals. So what’s this thing with trust? Green writes that this is

Not blind trust, but the trust that comes after hard work, and the trust that comes from knowing there is music inside you….

In order to achieve our ultimate goal and enter the state of relaxed concentration where we are one with the music, there is one more skill we need. We need to trust ourselves.

There are, according to Green, three major obstacles to trust:

• Worries about your self-image,
• The feeling that things are out of your control, and
• Doubts and fears about your own ability.

These feed Self 1’s objections to our playing well. Any of these can creep in and interfere with our music. Let's look at each as Green talks about them.

• Self-image
  "Music is a performing art," says Green. He then says the secret to getting beyond self-image is to give "yourself the character and emotions of the music. You become the music, not yourself." This is like being an actor playing a part. The goal of the actor is to express the character not their own personality. So it is with music. We come to accept our role as "interpreters of the composer's music."
  
  Okay- easier said than done, especially when we are playing a solo. Our image as a performer can be at stake, we think, if we flub it. If we keep aware of the fact that it is not about us, we are well along the way.
  
  
• Out of control
  Self 1 wants to keep control and make sure everything is going the way it wants. Letting go of control is then the direction to go in our learning. How do we learn to "let go" to Self 2?
  
  That depends to a great extent on the awareness, goal-setting, and preparation work we have been doing. It is based on trusting ourselves. Why should we? Because we have had years of listening and playing; we have had years of physical training of our embouchure, breathing, fingering; and we have been storing all kinds of information in our nervous system to respond when needed. Every one of us has known that moment when we stop worrying and let go to the music. That is the moment when we are in "the groove" - and it works. That's trusting ourselves. We are not in control- and don't need to be- because Self 2 and the music are.
  
  
• Doubting our abilities
  Hard to believe that a trumpet player will ever doubt his or her ability. That sure doesn't match our perceived self-image and personality. But we didn't start that self-assured about our ability nor do we always have it conquered. But really, what's the worst that could happen? Self 1 will be good at making a catastrophe out of it, but really, what is the worst that is most likely to happen? Chances are it won't be anywhere near as bad as good, old Self 1 thinks.
  
  What's the best that could happen? Probably a more likely prospect than the worst. Plus, unless there is a recruiter from the New York Philharmonic or the Canadian Brass sitting in the audience the best that could happen is most likely the warmth of having done a job well.

Many years ago my daughter and I were pondering our first ever roller coaster ride. She was 8 or 9 and I was in my early 40s. I had not ridden a coaster in decades; she never. We sat on a bench where we could watch the coaster we were considering. I counted the seconds to the top. I counted the seconds of the first drop. I timed the whole ride. We asked each other the questions about worst and best. Could we survive for those couple seconds it took to drop? Would I be way too nervous to bear the tension of the ride to the top? Would we get sick? (Probably not- and it wouldn't last long if we did.) Would we like it? (Probably- but if not, we just don't have to do it again.) We would be completely out of control. (But strapped in.)

We went on the ride.

And then got back in line to do it again. For the next hour. The worst didn't happen, but the best did. We had, in the end, only one real decision to make- did we trust the people who built, maintain, and operate the ride? Just like needing to trust my own ability to play.

Self-trust is the result of our practice and techniques we learn. That crazy run in Tchaikovsky's "Finale to Symphony #4" doesn't look quite as impossible when you realize it is just a variation on all those scales you have been doing for the past years. The solo in Holst's "Song Without Words" from Holst's "Second Suite" isn't quite as scary when you have listened to it for months and done some innovations on how it is constructed and you can see it's form in your mind.

Self-trust. Do you believe you can do it? Have you worked on being able to do it? Have you set goals, formal or informal to be ready to do it? Have you allowed you and the music to meld into a unique idea?

If so, you can do it.

If not, don't quit, just go back and work some more. But remember, sooner or later we will have to be ready. Do it. You know you can.

The player needs to be able to forget about himself. This is when real communication begins. For with the elimination of the self, he is able to reach the very core of the music, and is free to transmit it. 

-Kato Havas

[Footnote: Ms. Brower in the blog post cited above gives a very good counter argument about the seeming “bad guy” status that Green gives to Self 1. She focuses instead on Galleway’s original idea that the purpose of the inner game is to bring Self 1 and Self 2 into harmony with each other. (How’s that for a good musical idea?) I agree with Ms. Brower and will do some more on this and the insights from neurologists about the brain in a future post.]