Shades of Gray

As I delve deeper into rest stroke, I find some of the arguments surrounding it less and less illuminating. Simplistic statements are made about issues that, on closer examination, are too complex to be resolved simplistically. Perhaps some of the teacup tempests we see in the classical guitar world might cool into more reasoned debate if the issues were more carefully defined.

For example, one argument I often see is that we should cultivate a hand position that allows us to freely mix rest and free stroke, with no change of hand position. Most of the time I see this idea argued as though it’s an obvious good, and thus only a damned fool would think otherwise. Implicit in the argument is the idea that having to change hand position is awkward and expressively limiting. Further implicit is that there’s no disadvantage in playing free and rest stroke from the same hand position, so why not do it? If these two implications are accepted without question, then indeed the argument seems irrefutable. But look closer, and the argument becomes more nuanced.

To begin, is there really no disadvantage to playing free and rest stroke from the same hand position? Before leaping to a conclusion, one must be precise in what one is talking about, as different cases give different answers. Consider, for example, playing free stroke and rest stroke on the same string, with the same finger, from the same hand position. There are three ways to do this:

1) Do both strokes from a free stroke hand position. But doing rest stroke from a free stroke hand position means you must flex the base joint while extending the middle joint. This is an awkward movement.

2) Do both strokes from a rest stroke hand position. But doing free stroke from a rest stroke hand position means you must extend the base joint while flexing the middle joint. This is also an awkward movement.

3) Find a middle ground between free stroke and rest stroke hand positions. But this means adopting a hand position that’s ideal for neither stroke.

By the way, I hasten to add that I’m not saying one should never do any of these three possibilities. Rather, I’m saying there are negative consequences to doing so, and one should know them.

Yet there are other cases in which there’s no downside to playing free and rest stroke from the same hand position. Consider the following:

Using the indicated fingering, it’s easy to play the G, B, and E eighth notes with free stroke, followed by a rest stroke on the half note G. No change in hand position is needed. I often do this, as can any competent player.

So here are two cases in which one can do free and rest stroke from the same hand position, and yet the consequences are entirely different—in the first case there are negative consequences that should be considered, in the second case there are no negative consequences at all. Clearly, a simplistic answer that glosses over real world differences won’t do.

Indeed, I’m finding the line between free and rest stroke is more ambiguous than I thought before beginning this project. A year ago, I could say with confidence that, in any given musical passage, I knew exactly where I was using free or rest stroke. Today, however, I’m not so sure. For example, there’s a scale passage in Guardame las vacas in which I start with rest stroke but end with free stroke. Yet as I recorded this passage for my July 30th video, I honestly couldn’t say exactly where I changed from free to rest stroke. In fact, sometimes there were notes in which I couldn’t say whether I was doing rest or free stroke—it felt like neither and both.

There’s nothing wrong with this ambiguity. Artistry isn’t always an “either/or” proposition. In the end, excellence is its own justification. Sometimes one can carefully listen to opposing sides of a debate, and when the two camps demand to know which side one supports, the only sensible answer is thus: “It depends.”


——[My next update will be September 4, 2011]——

The Featherbed of Routine

Since I haven’t precisely described my one hour right hand sessions in a while, here’s a breakdown of what I’m currently doing.

• 5 minutes: String push-ups. Finger strength, I suspect, is one component of speed. I do finger push-ups thus:

Rather than playing the notes, I push each string as though doing a rest stroke, and then release the pressure without releasing the string. This uses the resistance of the string to help build finger strength. It’s also a quiet way to begin my session.

• 25 minutes: Condensed Mudarra (see August 13 post). I begin at a tempo of 60, four notes per click. When that goes well, I gradually increase the tempo until my hand begins to tense up—nowadays, that’s at a tempo somewhere in the 70’s. Occasionally I get to 80. All of this is done quietly. As noted in my August 13 post, louder playing increases my hand tension. So for now I’m sticking with my plan to ingrain a less tense movement, hoping that as it takes hold I’ll be able to play increasingly louder.

• 10 minutes: Speed bursts. Though I’m still suspicious of their ultimate value, I’ve decided I need more familiarity with the sensations of speed. Now, however, I’m examining these sensations with a more critical eye. For example, I’ve noticed that during high speed bursts, I very lightly clench my jaw. I’m working to stop doing that.

• 5 minutes: Right hand arpeggios. I’m particularly interested in improving the independence between m and a. Depending on my mood and how things are going, I might run through the Carulli Fandango.

• 5 minutes: Right hand sweeps and rasgueado.

• 10 minutes: Finger stretches.

I’m aware that the condensed Mudarra and speed bursts are opposite solutions to the same problem. But I rather like the idea of tossing two solutions into the ring and letting them fight it out. (Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself.) Of course, this runs the risk of a bad solution working against a good solution. All I can say is that I’m aware of the danger, and choose to try it anyway. I’m becoming more confident in my ability to evaluate what I’m doing. If I’m doing something unproductive, I’ll find out soon enough.

It recently occurred to me that my situation is similar to that of a stroke victim who’s lost the ability to walk and through therapy is trying to regain it. There’s some difference: the stroke victim has completely lost the ability and must teach another part of the brain to relearn it—I have the ability, but not on a high level, and thus must retrain myself to improve it. For both of us, however, success or failure hinges on neuroplasticity.

For a musician, neuroplasticity should be a given. After all, musicians are tireless tinkerers with neural wiring—we can’t learn anything new without it. But we’re also human, and it’s human nature to fall into a comfortable routine, especially if it’s gotten us to a reasonable level of accomplishment. It’s the rare individual who can set aside a comfortable routine in search of something better. I encounter this self-defeating inertia often as a teacher. It’s more disconcerting to find it lurking within myself. But having roused myself from this inertia, I find it changes me in subtle ways.

Some of these changes are disquieting. We tend to see ourselves as conscious entities, freely choosing our actions and beliefs. But is this is really so? Most of what we do is unconscious reflex. Indeed, it takes little effort to see ourselves as mindless automatons, going through the motions of thought without the substance. Much of what passes for consciousness is perhaps illusory. It may be that most of the time we’re no more conscious than the simulated citizens in a computer game of SimCity.

If nothing else, my right hand project has the virtue of waking me from the slumber of routine. That’s something. Perhaps it’s more valuable than any technical goal I’m trying to attain.


——[My next update will be August 29, 2011]——

A Quiet Week With Joe Friday

Over the past month or so I’ve come to accept that progress will be much slower than I’d hoped when I set out on this project. But now I wonder if progress is happening right before my eyes and I’m too jaded to see it. In my May 1 video I could play rest stroke alternation no faster than a crawl. Yet two and a half months later, I can reliably do this roughly three times faster. So fixated am I on my goal—still frustratingly far off—that I’ve overlooked the fact that my rest stroke alternation speed has tripled in less than three months. Geez, Moore’s Law has nothing on me. The obvious explanation for my failure to notice this progress is that since I started from a crawl, three times faster than a crawl isn’t all that noticeable.

But progress is progress. Henceforth I shall revel in my victories, however small they may be.

I spent much of my one hour right hand sessions working on a condensed version Mudarra’s Galliard:

As Joe Friday might have said, “just the scales, ma’am.” By the way, in the above example I left out the cadenza I’m doing at the end. Let’s just say that, until I post a video, it’s my little secret. But I’m sure you’ll find it deeply moving.

Although I don’t like doing it, I played rest stroke alternation very quietly this week. My reason for this is thus. When my fingers meet no resistance, they move perfectly, with no excess tension at all. Only when meeting the resistance of the string do my fingers begin moving badly. The higher the volume I try to play, the greater the tension in my hand—the greater the tension in my hand, the more my inactive fingers tend to lock up during i and m alternation. So my approach this week was to play at a volume where my fingers move easily, and see if that easy movement becomes ingrained enough that I’ll later be able to increase the volume with no ill effects.

As I said, I don’t like doing this. I’ve heard guitarists who do speed by playing lightly. To my ears, it yields a dinky little sound that I find tentative. But I’m hoping that as an easy movement becomes ingrained, I’ll gradually be able to ramp up the volume and keep the easy movement.

T’was a strange week. I began it with little hope that I was getting anywhere, but determined to soldier on. Early in the week I would start each i and m alternation session at about 60, and then nudge up the tempo until I hit a wall. By Friday I found myself hitting 80 with a fair degree of confidence, although my right hand tension felt dangerously close to locking up. But I did hit a few clean reps at 80. Nothing comfortable and reliable yet, but the fact that I could do it at all was encouraging. Curious, I then tried to play Carulli’s Fandango, which I’ve had on the back burner. At a tempo of 100, it went better than I expected. I was so pleased that at the end of the week I contemplated rewarding my right hand with a doggie treat.

I still think it won’t be until the end of September before I’m ready to play Mudarra’s Galliard at a performance tempo. (And I’d prefer a tempo of 104, rather than the 92 I mentioned last week.) But after a summer of discontent, I’m beginning to feel some of my old optimism creeping back.

Maybe I can pull this off.


——[My next update will be August 21, 2011]——

New Month, New Piece

Last week’s video was instructive, if not musically inspired. What encourages me is the first run through the first variation. The tempo is pretty much what I want, and the execution is better than anything I’ve done with rest stroke alternation before I began this project. The rough spots in other parts of the video don’t worry me. I know their causes, and I know how to overcome them. Progress is there—it’s damn slow, but it’s there.

I’m putting Guardame on the back burner. Next up is Alonso de Mudarra’s Galliard, which has three short scale bursts and one longer passage. I’m also tagging on the end a brief flourish, serving the dual purpose of creating more scale work and bringing the piece to a flashy close. My target tempo for Galliard is 92. I doubt if I’ll get there by the end of August. But I certainly hope to have it up to tempo by the end of September. So that’s my target date for a video performance at tempo.

Over the past two weeks interesting comments have come in. I’d like to address some of them:

After viewing your recent video, I wonder if you've read Hector Quine’s ‘Guitar Technique’, esp pp 10-11. A useful little book.
—CW

from Quine’s “Guitar Technique”

I read this some years ago. Parts I like, other parts I don’t. I don’t agree with Quine’s proscription on relaxing the tip joint when plucking a string. His opinion contradicts Pepe Romero, who I believe has credibility on this particular issue because he can play, to put it mildly. I also think Quine’s warning against looking at the left hand is overdone. (I suspect this is what you’re referring to in pages 10-11.) Curiously, his illustration of correct right hand position is pretty much how I play. I find this amusing, as I’ve been criticized a number of times for my right hand position. One man’s model is another’s faux pas, I suppose.

Hey, have you considered getting yourself some private lessons? I know you already have a degree and all, but I don't see anything written about you consulting with another guitarist at or above your level to see if he can diagnose you better than you can diagnose yourself.

Also, have you considered a comprehensive strength training program which includes hand strength training on Captains of Crush (or similar high-quality grippers)?

I think the role of domain-specific physical strength is often overlooked for musicians.
—Anonymous

Actually, I have consulted another guitarist considerably more skilled than me. Nonetheless, I have another iron in the fire regarding this. More anon. Regarding strength training: finger sweeps, rasgueado, and finger push-ups are still part of my daily regimen. I’m on it.

On the point about a seamless transition between two states, you may find benefit in thinking about overlap between two distinct modes of operation instead of a fixed point of transition. For example, a man can sing a melody in his normal or in falsetto, but in practice chooses one or the other depending on the musical line that is to be taken. The same idea could apply to the right hand across a range of tempi: choose the mode that fits the line.
—PH

You may be right, but for my own playing I hope not. I’d like to develop a seamless transition—it would seem that a gradual accelerando requires it.

One doesn't accelerate the growth of a tree by tugging at its branches. I think the speed bursts are not helping you at this point. They may later, but for now I think you need weeks away from speed work, and rather just concentrate on ease and mechanical fluency.

While my scale speed is not in the GFA winner category, when I work at it, I can play 16ths in the 140-150 range. I had a hard ceiling of 120 for years, and it only went away when I stopped working for speed, and concentrated instead on simplicity in movement and proprioception, eliminating all extra tension. ALSO, when I first found I had speed I didn't have before, I could only play things fast that musically required it. Scale runs in Invocation and Dance and the Aranjuez come to mind. This being said, I wonder if your very analytic approach needs some tempering with some meter, agogic and musical inflection. Perhaps some of the Tarrega single line studies?
—Steve Bondy

More or less, we’re in agreement. I’ve soured a bit on speed bursts, though I think they still have value for testing the limits of speed. Over the last week, I’ve pinned down at what speed the trouble starts for my right hand. Up to 60 (four notes per click), my i and m rest stroke alternation works fine. Toward the mid-60s, my inactive fingers (a and c) begin to tense. Past the mid-70s, forget it. So I begin a tad below 60 and work my way up. If my inactive fingers begin to lock up, I back off the tempo and emphasize an easy movement. Then I tweak the tempo up again. I view the mid-60s as a sort of no-man’s land, across which is the enemy territory I’m trying to conquer. Occasionally I’ll lob in a faster tempo, playing very lightly with an almost wispy sound to see if I can stake a flag, however tentatively, in enemy territory. But for the most part it’s a gradual process of de-tensification—I’m not sure that’s a word, but it’s what I’m doing.

By the way, Steve, out of curiousity I googled your name. Enjoyed your web site. I also enjoyed hearing the sound samples of your young students. Teachers who showcase their students strike a chord with me. It’s one mark of a good teacher.


——[My next update will be August 14, 2011]——