Today was a busy day, so this entry will be brief. I’m now pretty consistent with i and m alternation at any tempo below 80. Past 80, things get dicey. On various days, the Mudarra Galliard has gone okay at 84, and sometimes even 88. But I wouldn’t trust it in a performance situation. And above 90, it just ain’t there.
All of this is only after a warmup of about ten or fifteen minutes. Starting cold first thing in the morning, I begin at 50 and rapidly increase the tempo. I dislike that I must begin so slowly, but my hand just isn’t there from a cold start. So it is what it is. It may be that I’ll never be the player who can pull the guitar out of its box, tune up, and then immediately rip a scale at 160.
Running open position scales across six strings, I’ve found that I can hit 100 on occasion. That’s nothing to throw confetti over. But it’s something.
The more I work on this, the more obvious it becomes that a good part of the barrier between me and speed is psychological. Whenever I try the Galliard at 90 or above, my hand, arm, and both shoulders tighten up. This ingrained tension, I’m convinced, is deeply rooted in my personality.
This reminds me of something I’ve noticed about profession auto racers. Back in the 1970’s, I was assigned by my college newspaper to get a photo of Janet Guthrie, the first woman to compete in the Indianapolis 500. To get a good action shot, I sat in the passenger seat as she drove through a slalom course. As the car was heaving from side to side, Guthrie was very cool and economical with her steering. Being relaxed behind the wheel is obviously a job requirement for a professional driver. Contrast this to a poor driver who freezes in a sudden emergency and careens off the road into a ditch.
People who freak out in dangerous situations make bad drivers. People who tense up when playing fast make bad guitar players. There’s no way around it. To become a better player, I must become a different person.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
I’m Back
Sorry for the delay. A family medical emergency came up. But things are taking a turn for the better, so I’m able to get back to my self-improvement project.
The first year of this project seems a blur of experimentation and unfulfilled expectations. Nonetheless, I’m optimistic for the new year. I can’t help it—I’m an incurable optimist. Which reminds me of the joke about the optimist who fell off a 100 story building. As he passed the 37th floor, he said to himself: “Well, so far, so good.”
Picking up where I left off, I’ve been running slowly increasing reps of the scale passages in the Mudarra Galliard. I start at a metronome setting of 50. I then creep up the metronome until I hit a wall. At the moment, that wall is in the area of 80. Encouragingly, however, on Friday I played the Galliard cleanly at 88, and did a passable performance at 92. Whether I could do that before an audience—or even for a video—is questionable. But progress is progress, so I’ll take it.
I should explain why I’m sticking doggedly to a single piece for so long. To me, it makes sense to have a piece so thoroughly familiar that the only problem with it is the problem on which I’m focused: right hand alternation speed. Nothing else about the Galliard is problematic, so it makes it easier to tease out whatever subtle things are preventing my right hand from gaining the speed I’m aiming for.
Over the past two weeks, I’ve decided to zero in on the following things during right hand alternation:
• Fingers should move very directly, both as they drive through the string and as they return for the next stroke. Under no circumstances should I allow the tension of the string to deflect my fingers from this direct flexion and extension. That means no sidepulls, and no riding along the length of the string.
• Take advantage of every opportunity for micro-breaks. Consciously release tension in my right hand at every opportunity, however brief.
• Be extremely precise with right hand string crossing. When crossing from one string to the next, be sure the finger is snug to the string on the very first note after the cross.
• Control anxiety as speed increases. I’ve noticed that when the speed goes up, so does my anxiety. I need to consciously break this vicious cycle. Tension caused by anxiety is just as real and debilitating as tension caused by bad technique.
• Don’t neglect left hand accuracy. When a left finger isn’t snug to the fret, it squeezes harder to avoid a buzzed note. That excess force can easily spill over to the right hand.
During every minute of practice, I want to work at deeply ingraining these things into my playing. If the first year has taught me anything, it’s that I must become a different person from what I’ve been in the past when playing the guitar. More of the same won’t get me where I want to go. I have to rewire myself both physically and psychologically.
I believe most people vastly underestimate how important and difficult this is. Imagine an emotionally unstable child trying to learn how to fly an airplane. You can teach him all you can, but in the end, you still have an emotionally unstable child flying an airplane. That won’t end well. The only way to improve the odds that the airplane won’t crash is to put someone else in the cockpit—someone older and more emotionally stable.
The old me has reached his ceiling on the guitar. So here’s to the new me, better than the old me. The only way to build a better right hand is to build a better man. And may he arrive soon.
The first year of this project seems a blur of experimentation and unfulfilled expectations. Nonetheless, I’m optimistic for the new year. I can’t help it—I’m an incurable optimist. Which reminds me of the joke about the optimist who fell off a 100 story building. As he passed the 37th floor, he said to himself: “Well, so far, so good.”
Picking up where I left off, I’ve been running slowly increasing reps of the scale passages in the Mudarra Galliard. I start at a metronome setting of 50. I then creep up the metronome until I hit a wall. At the moment, that wall is in the area of 80. Encouragingly, however, on Friday I played the Galliard cleanly at 88, and did a passable performance at 92. Whether I could do that before an audience—or even for a video—is questionable. But progress is progress, so I’ll take it.
I should explain why I’m sticking doggedly to a single piece for so long. To me, it makes sense to have a piece so thoroughly familiar that the only problem with it is the problem on which I’m focused: right hand alternation speed. Nothing else about the Galliard is problematic, so it makes it easier to tease out whatever subtle things are preventing my right hand from gaining the speed I’m aiming for.
Over the past two weeks, I’ve decided to zero in on the following things during right hand alternation:
• Fingers should move very directly, both as they drive through the string and as they return for the next stroke. Under no circumstances should I allow the tension of the string to deflect my fingers from this direct flexion and extension. That means no sidepulls, and no riding along the length of the string.
• Take advantage of every opportunity for micro-breaks. Consciously release tension in my right hand at every opportunity, however brief.
• Be extremely precise with right hand string crossing. When crossing from one string to the next, be sure the finger is snug to the string on the very first note after the cross.
• Control anxiety as speed increases. I’ve noticed that when the speed goes up, so does my anxiety. I need to consciously break this vicious cycle. Tension caused by anxiety is just as real and debilitating as tension caused by bad technique.
• Don’t neglect left hand accuracy. When a left finger isn’t snug to the fret, it squeezes harder to avoid a buzzed note. That excess force can easily spill over to the right hand.
During every minute of practice, I want to work at deeply ingraining these things into my playing. If the first year has taught me anything, it’s that I must become a different person from what I’ve been in the past when playing the guitar. More of the same won’t get me where I want to go. I have to rewire myself both physically and psychologically.
I believe most people vastly underestimate how important and difficult this is. Imagine an emotionally unstable child trying to learn how to fly an airplane. You can teach him all you can, but in the end, you still have an emotionally unstable child flying an airplane. That won’t end well. The only way to improve the odds that the airplane won’t crash is to put someone else in the cockpit—someone older and more emotionally stable.
The old me has reached his ceiling on the guitar. So here’s to the new me, better than the old me. The only way to build a better right hand is to build a better man. And may he arrive soon.
——[My next update will be January 29, 2012]——
Monday, January 16, 2012
Notice
For those who are wondering why I haven’t posted anything this month, a family emergency has come up. But things should settle down by the end of this month. So I hope to be back on track soon, and am looking forward to making more progress on my project.
I apologize for the delay. By the way, I’m aware of the irony that my one year project is entering its second year.
I apologize for the delay. By the way, I’m aware of the irony that my one year project is entering its second year.
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