There, I said it. And I don’t like it. But it is what it is.
I’m moving on to other things. Currently, I’m trying to learn one piece in which I do everything as perfectly as I can. No cutting corners, and no settling for “close enough.” I want to play the piece exactly as I hear it in my head. And when I get there, I plan to make a recording and write up a detailed study guide for the piece. So that’s my new project.
By the way, I’m surprised to find that I also have a left hand. Who knew?
Perhaps all isn’t lost in my quest for right hand speed. But it’s clear my problems are too fundamental to be solved piecemeal. Rather, I must begin at the beginning, and that’s where my new project starts. By rebuilding my playing bit by bit, I may actually improve my right hand speed. I’m simply not focusing solely on speed. I just want to get back to learning and playing music. My right hand will either improve or it won’t.
Nonetheless, “Building A Better Right Hand” shouldn’t fizzle out with no ending. It needs an epilog. Below is a brief summary of what I feel are the most important posts of this blog. Others might pick up the baton and take it farther. I hope my experience helps.
These first two posts I regard as the most important things I learned during my project:
The Brass Tacks of Technique
As early as, possible, every guitar student should be taught something like this.
Training the Musical Pooch
An overview of how to cultivate speed.
These next five posts touch on concepts important to developing a relaxed technique:
The importance of gradually parsing tension when building speed.
Rethinking Speed Bursts
Speed bursts are often recommended as a way of developing speed. Maybe they shouldn’t.
A discussion of “micro-breaks.”
The irony of thinking I have something to say about speed when I can’t do speed isn’t lost on me. But in finding a worthwhile approach, attention must be paid to those who can’t do speed. After all, who better is there to define the dimensions of the problem? Those who can often don’t adequately fathom those who can’t. If nothing else, my experience may point to a better way.
Progress is often built on the wreckage of failure. I’ll never be the statue. But there’s something to being the pedestal.