"So what did you use computers for?"

Andrew, fourteen, did an amazing job learning the guitar solo to "Let it Be". Armed with a fairly accurate tab acquired on the web, he went home and practiced effectively and thoroughly. He told me he broke the 'back' button on his iPod remote from scrubbing backward so much to listen to small sections of the solo repeatedly.

"Good job," I said. "You did it right, then!"

We explored some other solos he could learn, since he's on a roll. "'Maybe I'm Amazed' would be good."

"Ok, should I get the tab online?"

"Well, it's better than nothing. If it's wrong, we can fix it. God knows I've had enough practice doing that."

"So what did you do to learn a song when you were a kid? Did you just download the tabs?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "It pains me greatly to say this," I said. "But you see, we did not have the Internet when I was a kid."

Andrew stared, amused and flabbergasted. "That sucks. So...what did you use computers for?"

"You know, word processing, spreadsheets, accounting..."

"So did you have Word?"

"I think by the early nineties. But I remember a time before Windows. We had," I paused. "DOS."

His eyes widened.

"Black screen, C-prompt, blinking cursor," I went on. "You had to talk to the computer in its own language. No photos, no movies, no music..."

"That sucks!"

"No mouse."

"No mouse?!"

"Well, it wasn't all bad. We also had ATARI 2600 - joystick, single orange button..."

"Wait - are you talking about a GAME CONSOLE?"

I had to laugh. I'm not so old, it's just that things have changed so fast.

"So anyway, there was no online tab. And if you wanted the lyrics, you had to figure them out by listening." And pausing your cassette to write them down.

"That sucks!"

Maybe. But kind of special to be among the very last generation of American teenagers who had to do things the hard way. Of course, even that is relative since I am also among the first generation who can't remember life before computers.

Ironically, Andrew's learning the same songs now that I did back then. The good news is, the songs haven't aged a bit.

The "Neglected Backyard" approach to overcoming perfectionism

I live in an Atlanta neighborhood called Reynoldstown. It's a bit transitional, literally on the wrong side of the tracks, and has a mix of races, ages, and collars. Some homes are rentals, and some are owner occupied. There are apartments and single-family homes.

I closed on my home in late February 2007, when everything is still dormant from winter but the daffodils are just about to come up. Hmmm, what are all these viney things I keep tripping over in the backyard as I explore my new property?

A New Neighborhood, a New Nemesis

Turns out it was kudzu, that notoriously invasive blight upon the southeastern landscape. I also had japanese honeysuckle, which has lovely-smelling flowers but is also invasive and destructive. These plants stifle biodiversity by choking out the other species, and left unchecked they will cover any and all surfaces exposed to light (and even some that aren't).

After some research (especially this fabulously helpful website by a group in Spartanburg, SC), I learned that the only way to truly eradicate kudzu was to cut out the crowns. These are knobby root structures that store the nutrients for the kudzu during the winter so it can come out swinging in the spring and wreak havoc and ruin everything.

After having acquired the necessary equipment, I took several hours on a Sunday and cut out all the vines I could find, just to get a little more control. Those suckers can grow more than a foot per day under ideal conditions.

Casualties of war (kudzu crowns on my deck)Then, I went out almost every day for the next six weeks or so and spent an hour cutting out as many crowns as I could find. It was like a big game of Whac-a-Mole, because even when I thought I had found all the new growth there would be more. And once I'd gotten all of it, there was more the next day.

No One Cares

Sometime in June, I started winning the war against kudzu, and it probably won't ever return (unless it comes under the fence from my neighbor's yard, because hers is a mess).

Which is part of the point I want to make here: there are very low standards for garden maintenance for my neighborhood. Some people have cute little landscaped lawns with flower beds, and some people have a packed-dirt front yard with a chain-link fence around it. Some people have a new Beemer parked on a nice neat concrete slab, others have a rusted-out 1980s sedan with kudzu growing into it (I told you, my neighborhood is transitsch). So even though I made improvements to my backyard, it was just for my own benefit - there is no peer-pressure in in my part of town.

Anything is Better than Nothing

New bambooNow, nearly three years later, my yard has some nice bamboo along the back fence (the non-invasive kind), some clematis, and a couple magnolias that are growing nicely since the kudzu was killed. However, it still needs a lot of work.

This is not a story about how my yard went from being overrun with kudzu to perfectly manicured. It's a story about how I set out to achieve a goal and, whenever I felt like it, did a little something to get closer to achieving it.

It's a story about not setting my standards too high, too fast.

It's a story about how any progress toward a goal is can be helpful.

Set the Bar Low

Yes, my friends, be underachievers - but be achievers!

For example, I wanted to start blogging more regularly. I'd been trying to do this for four years. Finally, instead of trying to do it every day or on some fixed schedule, I decided this fall to do it whenever I wanted to.

I reasoned that, just like my backyard, anything I did would be an improvement.

Penelope Trunk helped, too, by giving me permission to start before I got organized. And now I have built up some momentum, so I'm posting more regularly. I have managed to completely avoid negative feelings about not doing it, which keeps the entire experience a happy one.

When I was cutting out kudzu crowns, I made a game out of finding them. "Aha! You may have cunning means of survival, but you are no match for my handsaw!" If I had known at the beginning how much time I would spend successfully ridding my yard of kudzu, I'm not sure I would have had the happy attitude. But doing a little bit every day was tolerable and fun, and not doing it would have meant stasis, not failure.

The Neglected Backyard Approach to exercise, flossing, practicing an instrument, what-have-you

The Neglected Backyard Approach works in a lot of areas. It helps you to forgive yourself for not knowing the things you didn't know you needed to know, by resolving to do better next time.

It helps you get out the stupid free weights and start moving your arms up and down. It helps you to learn an instrument by acknowledging that any time you spend playing the thing is going to help you learn it over the long run.

It helps you to not do things, too: turn off the TV, put down the cigarette, and so on.

Think in terms of tiny incremental improvements. Kaizen. Progress, not perfection.

The Neglected Backyard Approach might even help me deal with the neglected backyard itself: it's mid-January and I still haven't raked up the autumn leaves. I can't rake the entire thing, but I might do twenty minutes worth. It's a nice day.

Progress through recess

Today was band practice with the Omnivores. I am the drummer for the Omnivores, which happened by accident because Michael Rachap is a way better rock pianist than I am, and Michael McGill is a way better rock guitarist than I am. At our first practice, I hopped on the drums and, although I take a break every now and then to play uke, hand percussion, or what-have-you, that is where I stay.

The Omnivores, October 2008I have been busy lately with the school (January is a big month for new enrollments) and with our Haiti benefit on Sunday. So I haven't been practicing very much. But, as a multi-instrumentalist by definition I never practice anything very much.

While I'd like to make myself a cautionary tale and remind all the good children out there that they should be practicing every single day without fail, I am actually pretty happy with my musicianship and I think my path is a valid one.

On the one hand, I am no virtuoso. Malcolm Gladwell, in Outliers, says that it takes an individual about ten thousand hours of practice, effort, work, whatever, to achieve mastery in a given discipline. So guess what - I started piano at age eleven, and I'm not sure I have those ten thousand hours yet. Julliard is off the table for me, I'm afraid.

However, on the other hand, I have easily put those ten thousand hours into music study in general, including many hours a day of vicariously playing over the shoulders of hundreds of students over the past several years. Even on days that I don't officially practice, I am spending plenty of time immersed in music.

Today was the first day the Omnivores played together since our lazy concert just before Christmas. Yet I am sure I am now a better drummer than I was in December. I was tighter, more steady, more energetic, and I was able to hear (and then execute) all kinds of fills that I couldn't this past fall. We played several songs we've never played (covers including a few Velvet Underground tunes, some early Beatles hits, and some random solo Beatles numbers). I've definitely made progress, trying some stuff I've haven't tried before.

How is this possible? Perhaps I am just judging myself less harshly than I did before, and I have actually backslid. But perhaps rest and time away from the instrument are underrated elements of a successful practice routine.

On one end of the spectrum, a beginner has to practice enough to actually learn how to play the instrument. On the other end of the spectrum, a pro has to play enough to keep his chops in shape, which might be quite a bit if he wants to simply maintain a high level. Maybe I'm in the sweet spot where I have the basic skills to do what I want to do musically, and I don't need to do much to stay there.

Even if I don't have my fingers on the instrument all the time (any instrument!), I am constantly expanding my understanding of the language of music. When I finally get down to playing again, it is a richer experience.

I know the breaks are doing me good - any third-grader will say the same thing about snacktime and recess. Duh, right?

A few extra beats

All of us learn by making connections between what we are learning and what we already know. This sometimes happens overnight or over a period of weeks, and sometimes it happens in a flash. The important thing is for the student to have the opportunity to make these connections, and with small children, I do this by allowing a few extra beats.

I had the privilege of working with a bunch of small children this week in our new intensive program and in some group classes. Besides the fact that they are pretty darn cute, it was fun because I got to try out some new activities and bring back some old favorites, including the following:

• Bells - I recently acquired some resonator bells that can be arranged in various ways. I laminated six index cards with the numbers 1 through 6 and placed one number in front of each of six bells (C, D, E, F, G, and A). I had each of the kids roll dice and then play the bells with the corresponding numbers. This worked extremely well in both the group class and the private lessons.
• Rhythm Cards - I took index cards, each with a quarter note, half note, pair of eighth notes, or a quarter rest, and arranged them into various patterns. I did not explain anything to the kids - rather, I just demonstrated each of the notes using certain words corresponding to each note value and let the kids go from there, words which I learned from Gina Branagan at Village Elementary School in York, Maine during my student-teaching experience.
• Pattern Echo - In private lessons, we did a call-and-response activity where I played a melody pattern and the student played it back.

Throughout all these activities, as well as the spontaneous moments in between, I allowed the students to dictate the pace as much as possible. This can be a little disconcerting for the parents, who are paying a lot of money seemingly to watch their kid tinker around with some bells or tap the piano keys a little bit. In reality, however, there's a lot more going on.

For example, suppose I've handed the child the mallet for the bells. Before I play the dice game or say anything about the numbers, I've got to let the child explore the bells. In doing this, she is internalizing the relationships between the tones, working on her gross motor ability, engaging in creative experimentation, and developing her rhythmic ability and sense of pitch.

After a couple of minutes, she might run out of stuff to do on the bells and be interested in my game. But if I were to skip over her exploration time, she would have trouble following the more structured rules of my game.

In the rhythm card activity, I give the kids a few extra beats by sitting silently for a moment after I put out the cards. Each child is in his or her own little world, thinking out loud, trying the pattern, clapping, and tapping. I wait until everyone has tried the pattern (some kids do it a few times), and then I count off so that we can all do it together. When the kids are incorrect, I do not try to fix it - I simply model the correct pattern, and let them make the correction themselves. By doing it this way, every child has the opportunity to process the rhythm pattern, not just the quickest child. Furthermore, the focus is not on "did I get it right?" but on the process of solving the puzzle.

When working with small children, certain actions might seem willful or disobedient but they are not. A small child walking into a new environment will put a lot of energy into exploring it and processing it. This can't really be rushed - if you tell him it's time to go sit down and focus, he wil not be able to do this.

Today when I was working with one little boy, as I was playing a musical pattern for him to echo, he appeared disengaged but was able to play the correct pattern by ear. He looked like he was distracted, staring out the window, but in reality he was completely involved in what we were doing. His vacant expression was actually one of concentration! In this case, taking a few extra beats allowed me to realize what was happening and why, instead of reprimanding the child for not paying attention.

Small children are learning constantly - everything is so new for them, and learning is still joyfully process-oriented rather than product-oriented. Allowing a child (and yourself) a few extra beats after every question, or at various points in an activity, will teach you both a great deal.

Teaching isn't explaining: it's listening, observing and adjusting, and that goes both ways.

I don't care how many years you've been playing

What matters is what you've accomplished during the time you've been studying your instrument, regardless of how long it took you. And even that doesn't matter unless it matters to you.

In any case, I hope you've been doing other things during that time, like holding down a job, raising children, eating, and what-have-you. Hey, why not keep track of how many hours you've been actually playing? That would be some useful information. Or would it?

I don't generally care for "resume currency": the type of information that would appear in a third-person bio. And as a rule, I dislike third-person bios unless you are so important that there's a Wikipedia entry about you.

Maybe it's because I went to state universities and public grade schools, or because, as one of four children, I didn't have the kind of upbringing that allowed me to begin violin lessons at age three, or because I don't have an advanced degree; whatever the reason, I consider details about someone's age, education, and the rest of their curriculum vitae to be not very important. While at times this attitude has been naive, it has also at times allowed me to escape the status quo and find my own way in the world.

So, the number of years (or hours) you've been playing is just a number. But people want this number because it helps them figure out where you are, and where they fit in. People use your number to rationalize their own choices.

When both of my maternal grandparents passed away from lung cancer in the same month (having been divorced for forty years, by the way), people asked me, "Were they smokers?" The real question was, "Could this happen to me?"

Below, some of the questions musicians get asked in this vein.

Question: "How long have you been playing?"

Subtext: "How long will it take me/my kid to get as good as you are?" or "How long have you been playing compared to me, and how do I rate against you?"

Question: "How old were you when you started playing?"

Subtext: Same as above.

Question: "Did you come from a musical family?"

Subtext: "If the answer is yes, then that explains your talent, and explains why I could never have been a musician."

Question: "How old are you?"

Subtext: "How do you compare to me when I was your age?" or "Where do I want to be when I'm your age?"

Question: "How long did it take you to learn that?"

Subtext: "Should I even bother?"

I have worked with a great many students in my career (How many? For how long? Meh.). I've learned that their struggles, slumps and triumphs cannot be measured in years.

It would be helpful if there were some external metric we could use to assess whether we are succeeding, whether we are in the right profession, whether we're playing the right instrument, whether we should even keep going. Since there isn't, I recommend the following:

"If it sounds good, it is good."

"If it feels good, it is good."

And, “The art of music is divine and effective. It is the food of the soul and spirit. Through the power and charm of music the spirit of man is uplifted." - 'Abdu'l-Baha

And of course, "Hail, hail, rock'n'roll!" - Chuck Berry

I don't care how many years you've been playing. Just keep playing.

How to not keep playing the same thing over and over again

You know how when you say a word many times in a row ("Donut. Donut donut donut donut donut...") it starts to sound weird? It gets divorced from its meaning and becomes pure sound. This same thing happens when you mindlessly play the same musical figure ad nauseum. Here's how to get just the right number of repetitions of a musical passage.

Small segments, slowly

First of all, you should be working on sections so small that you can play them correctly on the first try. If you mess up, you are either taking too big a section, or going too fast, or both.

Don't be a hero! Don't think that going slowly or breaking things down makes you a weaker musician:

• The slower you practice, the faster you will learn.
• The tighter your focus, the shorter your practice.

The Comfort Score

Do you have a small-enough chunk to work with? Good. Now play it, paying attention to how it feels, not just how it sounds. Now, give yourself a Comfort Score from one to ten.

This score is not "how many mistakes did I make?" If you made mistakes, you might be going to fast or playing too big a section. If you chose your section well (it could be just one note), you didn't make any errors. Instead, ask yourself, "How comfortable was while I played that?"

Ten is "I can play this effortlessly with my eyes closed." One is, "I think I just passed out in the middle from concentrating too hard."

If your score was any lower than eight, play it again. Keep evaluating yourself, and keep repeating the passage, until you score eight or nine. Do not aim for ten, because you will go mad.

STOP

By the time you score an eight or nine, you have played the musical passage a few times correctly, evaluating yourself every step of the way. Your playing feels relaxed and masterful. When you reach this point, stop. Resist the temptation to play the phrase again.

Your choices at this point:

• Go on to a different section or piece
• Practice a section adjacent to the one you just played, overlapping
• Expand the section you just worked on
• Go have some ice cream

There's always tomorrow

When you come back to this piece at your next practice session, it will probably take you fewer repetitions to get to a Comfort Score of eight or nine. Good! Eventually, you'll be able to score a nine on your first try. This doesn't require hundreds of repetitions. Intense focus and thoughtful self-evaluation will shorten your practice time to only what is needed.

Guitars are all the same, and all different

Many people have the misconception that it is better to start lessons on an acoustic guitar and then "graduate" to an electric guitar. Or, they assume that playing an acoustic is vastly different from playing an electric. It's not, although there are different techniques involved.

The difference between acoustics and electrics is like the difference between pencils and pens. In a pinch, either will do, but there are distinct advantages to one or the other in certain situations.

For example, you'll do crosswords and calculations in pencil, but sign your name with a pen. Likewise, you'd play "Blackbird" on an acoustic, but "Back in Black" on an electric, although it is physically possible to play each song on any guitar.

Also, when it comes both to musical instruments and writing implements, there are variations in technique that are minor for the beginner, but significant for the expert. A professional illustrator will be a master of certain shading techniques that can only be accomplished with pencil; hand-addressed invitations require specialized skill with a calligraphy pen. An acoustic guitar can be strummed vigorously and percussively in a way that the electric can't. Meanwhile, electric guitar makes use of string bending and lots of sustain (think "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton) that is virtually impossible to achieve on the acoustic.

As a beginner, a student can explore the guitar starting with whatever instrument is lying around. The fact that there are so many different kinds of guitars (and sounds that can be made on them) is part of the mystique of the instrument.

Momentum: more important than talent

One big thing you have to forget about is whether your kid is talented or not. Just take it off the table.

Here's the thing: for kids, it's all about the work they put into it. Yes, work. It's not all going to be fun, although it might be enjoyable. You have to help the kid set up a routine for playing every day. Or at least four days out of the week, at least ten minutes a day. If you can't do this, the chance of your kid succeeding with the instrument over the long haul drops precipitiously.

It's all about momentum. If you can build momentum from the very beginning, you will be amazed at how well your child will do. Some early success on the instrument will help her continue to stay motivated to practice, which in turn leads to more success. "She's so talented!" Uh-huh. How mysterious.

Contrast that with the alternative: Teacher and kid cover pages 10-12 in the first lesson, and kid doesn't look at them again for the rest of the week. Kid comes back, teacher realizes the kid didn't practice. Two things happen then: First, the teacher knows that practicing is going to be an issue and unconsciously holds back her best stuff. Second, the kid gets assigned pages 10-12 again. There goes the momentum. It takes a lot to fix this problem: The kid has learned that practicing is not a part of taking music lessons.

I cannot overstate the importance of the crucial first few weeks of music lessons. Developing the practice routine is a lot like practice itself: getting it right on the first try is exponentially better than fixing mistakes. It takes seven repetitions to learn a given musical figure, and thirty-five repetitions to un-learn it once it's been learned incorrectly. Likewise, a child who gets off on the wrong foot has learned incorrectly that learning an instrument is about attending the music lesson and nothing more, and once a child makes this erroneous assumption it is extremely difficult to get him to a place where he is learning music for real.

This is such an avoidable problem. But how involved should you be in preventing it? This depends on the age and temperament of your child. For most children under twelve, you can pretty much assume that you will be overseeing daily practice, reminding your kid to do it, and providing rewards for doing it/consequences for not doing it. If you are not willing to be this involved, it is unlikely your child will succeed at music lessons, even if it was his idea.

For children twelve and up, it is a judgment call. You have to choose your battles on everything at this age, so maybe you want music lessons to be something you don't have to be involved in or fight over. If this is the case, you have to decide whether you are okay with spending the money on lessons even if your kid isn't practicing. The exception to the momentum rule is that sometimes when teens are given the space to develop their passion for music, it will bloom on its own.

Be prepared for the teacher to have a say in this, too - your teacher might not be willing to work with a student who is not practicing. Children who don't practice are not fun to work with.

Many a parent wants his kid to be a natural - our culture fetishizes prodigies and overnight successes. But practicing music is really about training the student to feel pride in a sense of accomplishment - to derive pleasure from a sense of progress after a period of hard work. That's not glamorous at all! So what's the shortcut?

You guessed it: momentum. The funny thing is, momentum starts to look eerily like talent when developed early and cultivated faithfully.

Choosing an instrument - maybe not that big a deal?

When I first started out as a teacher, people would call and say "My daughter wants to play guitar" or "I'm enrolling both of my kids in piano." But when my school started to take off as a multi-teacher school (as opposed to just my own teaching studio), people would call and say, "We want to get involved with your program - what instrument should we pick?" I was thrilled to see this sign that our little music community was having an influence in the larger community. But in spite of the fact that I have played and taught several different instruments over the years, I have no idea what makes me want to play a particular instrument or how to go about choosing an instrument for someone else.

Maybe it's like deciding how many kids to have. There is no wrong answer, and even if it is the wrong answer (surprise!), it ends up becoming the right answer anyway. Or, you never even bring up the question, and so the idea of a wrong answer is moot.

The basics of learning an instrument are the same on every instrument even if physical techniques differ. It's like learning French for a few years and then switching to Spanish. True, the three years of French study became a dead end, but you developed your skills of language learning and can now apply them to Spanish.

Likewise, though you might awaken musical skills one one instrument, once you master the physical techniques of another, you can express yourself musically with it. Playing an instrument is simply translating what you hear (or see) to a physical interface, and the ability to "speak" this language continues to grow no matter what instrument you study.

So what do you do as a parent? Do you choose an instrument for your kid? What age do you start? When do you allow them to quit or switch instruments? Honestly, I don't know - it depends on your family culture.

You know what? It's like romantic love versus arranged marriages - given the right conditions, either can thrive, statistically speaking.

Whatever you do, be fully committed to whatever instrument you choose, during the period of time that you're enrolled in lessons. The main thing that contributes to enjoying music lessons is success, and the main thing that contributes to success is a good practice routine. For most kids, even the instrument they are so excited about will be gathering dust in a few weeks without that solid routine.

Given the right routine, a good result is possible on any instrument - and if it doesn't click the first time, switching isn't the end of the world.

Scales are for snakes

Don't waste the limited amount of time you have on this planet just playing the notes of a given key in sequence (i.e., practicing scales mindlessly).

Do writers warm up by typing "the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog" for thirty minutes before getting to their real work? Nope. Writers might use warm-ups to get their creative juices flowing, but the warm-ups they use are not mindless repetition.

The best way to warm up as a musician is to play actual melodies. Actual songs. And save the scales for the cold-blooded members of the animal kingdom.

Micro-goals

Goals of all sizes are worth setting when it comes to music. I just got a text message from a teenage student of mine who set a goal in October to write ten new songs by January 1, letting me know that she had completed the task. Some students are working on even bigger goals: college admissions, recording an album, and so on. We prepare for these lofty achievements by breaking the goals down into tiny pieces. If you are having trouble making something happen, try working it on a microscopic level.

Perhaps you are learning a new piece of music. Your ultimate target might be "be able to play this piece of music well from start to finish."

Too many of us attempt to do this without having prepared for it. We mess up and go back to the beginning, mess up and go back to the beginning. By doing this, you are programming your fingers to fail you.

A different approach
This procedure works best when you are playing from a printed score, but it can be adapted to by-ear styles as well.

The micro-goal: play the last chord. Or even one note of a chord - if  you can't play the chord all at once, your micro-goal becomes, "play the chord correctly." Let the entire world be just one note at a time until you've got it.

Now play the second-to-last note, or chord. Put them together, in time. Go as slowly as you need to go, but do play the notes in rhythm - use a metronome if necessary. Your micro-goal is "play from the second to last note to the last, comfortably and cleanly, in time."

Once you have accomplished this goal, add another note, and so on.

Most people can expect their focus to start to waver after fifteen to thirty minutes. You can tell when you are getting tired because you start to make weird mistakes you haven't made before. This means it's time to take a break, or move on to another type of musical activity. Perhaps you'll discover another goal, such as playing a piece up to speed, memorizing a piece, or improvising a song.

My role as a teacher is often to help students identify micro-goals within each of their musical activities. The more you can do this on your own, the more successful your practice will be - and ultimately, your larger goals will reflect this stronger foundation.

Playing an instrument: a mixed-hemisphere activity

One of the great things about playing an instrument is that there are so many different strengths one can bring to the table. Some students are great with pattern recognition, spatial visualization, and music theory; some have a natural musicality in their physical technique; some have a great tonal memory and musical ear; and some have a tenacity and that allows them to make up for any deficits in other areas with sheer dedication and a great attitude.

I have never, ever, worked with a student who "just didn't have it" - everyone who puts in a bit of effort improves. Part of what allows everyone to have success with music is that playing music uses both the "intuitive" right brain and the "logical" left brain. Part of my job as a teacher is to observe which hemisphere appears to be dominant in a student and adjust my methods accordingly.

While I believe in building on strengths, there is often a need to compensate for a weakness in a particular area in order to improve overall musicianship. Right-brain, intuitive thinkers tend to see the whole and rather than the part. This means that they on an attempt to play a new song they will "feel" their way through it, looking for larger patterns rather than getting stuck on small details. While this relaxed ease is the eventual goal, the challenge is then to learn how to break things down and read (i.e., decode) individual notes when necessary. On the other hand, a left-brain, logical thinker will focus on decoding the notes individually and incorporating every detail. While this is important, this student will need to learn how to begin to let go and listen to where the music is going, without needing to control every note with a conscious thought.

Try this informal test to see which is your dominant hemisphere. For my part, I am evenly split between right and left brain dominance, which I think is what has helped me to work with and relate to a wide range of learning styles. I'm a strange bird: equal parts artist and administrator.

The most common mistake most piano teachers make

I have had many students transfer to me from other piano teachers over the years. It's always the same story - they can't play anything well. Why? They've been pushed too hard, too fast.

See, the average piano teacher was her own teacher's star student. And the average piano teacher takes a star student and pushes. That is what was modeled for her, so that's what she does. The thing is, what about the other twenty students who aren't going to go on and be piano teachers? They are being pushed just for the sake of being pushed.

I take things a step further, and argue that even the students who show initial talent should not be pushed. Why should they be? They are already learning faster than the average. Give every student appropriate, incremental challenges and encourage their progress. They all have the potential to learn to play music well.

What is the main way that teachers push their students? It's not by being demanding in terms of technique or artistry. It's by giving them repertoire they are not ready for.

Inexperienced teachers do not have the ability to see tiny advances in a student's skills and understanding, or the tiny holes in a student's skills and understanding. These teachers leap forward in the level of difficulty of the pieces they assign without realizing it. It's kind of like those who complain that type is too small instead of acknowledging that they need glasses. And when a student's momentum falters, it's easy to blame the student for lack of effort instead of seeing that the situation was created by the teacher. The effect of this can turn a thriving student into a quitter in just a few weeks.

The thing to do as a teacher, if you're prone to this common mistake, is to err on the side of giving material that is too easy. If you do this, make it up in volume: give several easier pieces for the student to play. This builds fluency in reading music, builds confidence, and, of course, gives the student more music to enjoy. Resist the temptation to "see what this kid can do." If you sequence the student's material correctly, you'll have years to find out.

Yes, you can sing

I mean, maybe you can't sing right now - big deal. When was the last time you tried?

I bowl approximately once a year, and I've never had a lesson. You know what? It shows. I am a terrible bowler who can bowl a strike as often as might be expected from a statistical perspective.

If I wanted to get good at bowling, I would commit to it and work at it. I wouldn't just throw up my hands and say, "I can't bowl." I may never be a championship bowler, but I am sure that I could improve. How could I not, if I put some time and energy into it? I could even take some pointers from bowling pro to improve my game.

So with singing...seriously, if you actually tried it, you would find you could do it. But - maybe not at first. See, you have to learn how to use the muscles if you've never done so. I am not a good weightlifter, but that is only because I do not lift weights. I would get pretty good at it if I worked on it a few times a week, because I would be training my muscles. Likewise, you have to train your muscles for singing.

So there, you can sing! Do it, exuberantly and often. And if it's not too pretty - well, then maybe some lessons are in order. But not necessarily.

The lazy concert

Eclectic Music now has its own performance space and consequently, so do I. We've had several events there since we moved in six weeks ago: an open house, a CD/DVD release party, a children's concert, five recitals, and two rehearsals of the new Intown Women's Glee Club.

The space, called The Eclectic Music Room, was conceived as a community music space - an alternative to 11 PM Wednesday night shows in smoky, 21+ clubs. I'm delighted to see the space used in that way - in a couple of weeks we'll be featuring two Grady High School students (and Eclectic Music students) Lily Zintak and Weston Taylor for an evening of original music.

An unexpected benefit of this lofty loft, however, is that is perfect for a lazy musician like me - someone who enjoys performing from time to time but dislikes booking gigs and hauling gear. The mountain comes to Mohammed, as it were, and I can do a show in what is essentially my own living room. Call it a "lazy concert."

I hadn't made this aspect of the venue public, but this week, one of the members of the Intown Women's Glee Club asked me to play at her birthday party, and it turned out she wanted to have the party at the Eclectic Music Room.

It will be the first event of its kind, but I'm sure it won't be the last. In this case, the coolest part is that she wants me to get all her guests singing - she doesn't want spectators or audience members, she wants participants. I love this type of collaborative performance. For those of us who grew up in musical families, it is de riguer, but it is somewhat novel to create this vibe with a larger group in a slightly more formal context.

It is a bit of a tightrope walk for a performer to work this way. My musical partner Michael and I will not be able to go in with our own set list (which means we don't even have to make one - another way this will be a "lazy concert"). In order to develop a rapport with the group, we'll be taking requests, which often means playing songs by ear (often songs we've never played before!).

Of course, it helps that we had a dry run at a family Thanksgiving dinner a couple of nights ago, playing Beatles songs and holiday favorites for a handful of folks. Some sang along, some played various percussion, and some just listened. It's relaxed, but you still have to be "on" - when you're accompanying singers, you have to follow them exactly (which I did), and everyone will notice if you flub up the intro to "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds" (which I did).

I'm eager to see whether, tonight, The Eclectic Music Room will help us blur the line between the performer and the audience the way we did at Thanksgiving. It is my desire, both as a musical artist and as an educator, that everyone should have this kind of authentic, mutually creative experience. I believe, as we head away from the major-label-driven music industry model, that we will see a lot more lazy concerts.

Songs

Music is only songs. To learn music, you learn songs.

I mean “song” in the colloquial sense, which includes any piece of music even though not all musical pieces are sung.

This is a pretty simple idea, but it took me years to figure out. I thought I had to learn exercises, warmups, scales, riffs, chords, improvisation, ear training, history, and theory as separate, discrete subjects. No - these musical elements only exist in songs, in service to songs, the way the organs of the body can only live and survive when they are performing the function for which they were created within that organism. And while the body can only exist in health when all the organs are performing their functions correctly, you don’t need to monitor these processes unless something goes seriously wrong. And if you are listening well (to your music or to your body), you can often figure the solution to a problem based on the context.

The most important day to practice

Besides today, that is?

The most important day to practice is the day of your lesson, immediately following the lesson. Playing for even a few minutes is enough. This simple act will affect your practice results for the rest of the week.

There are two reasons for this:

1) Reviewing what happened in the lesson while it is still fresh will reinforce the improvements and tweaks made during your lesson, and greatly increase the possibility that you'll remember and implement the suggestions your teacher made throughout the week. If you wait until three days later, you may not even remember what the suggestions were about even if the teacher's comments were written down, thereby making the lesson useless.

2) Practicing when you come home after the lesson creates a sense of momentum that will carry you through the rest of the week. When you make the effort to practice a little right when you get home from the lesson, you'll feel good about yourself and your results, and you'll be that much more motivated to get back to it then next day, and the day after that, and so on. This creates even more momentum, as you and your teacher will be thrilled by the improvement you'll exhibit and you'll continue your achievement into the next week and the next.

If you can't practice immediately after your lesson, at least practice the day after the lesson. Try this and you'll be amazed at how much more you will enjoy your practice time.

Why piano shopping is like car shopping

I get a lot of questions from people looking to buy pianos. Everyone wants to get a high-quality instrument at a good price. However, just as with cars, what that actually means is different for everybody, and so there is no quick answer.

Different manufacturers are associated with different attributes. Steinway and Bosendorfer are perhaps the Mercedes and Porsche of pianos, while Yamaha, Baldwin, and Kawai can be compared to Volkswagen, Volvo, & Nissan. Maybe Wurlitzer, Young Chang, and Kimball are like Chevy, Hyundai, or Saturn. Further, each manufacturer has different models at different price points, and within each model, there are various trim levels. It becomes a matter of personal preference whether to get a fully loaded Camry or a no-frills Lexus.

Once you get into the used market, the similarity between piano shopping and car shopping continues to hold up. While you take a huge hit on depreciation if you buy new, there is a strong used market in both cars and pianos because of their long and predictable lifespan. Of course, pianos do not have odometers, but there are ways to check for wear and get a sense of the degree of use the instrument has been subjected to.

If I were going to buy a used piano (and I do it a couple of times a year), I would look on Craigslist first. Just as with car ads, you will find a mix of private sellers, small-time dealers, and the occasional big-time dealer (luckily, still far fewer scammers than on the auto listings). As you might predict, you will get better prices but less convenience and information from private sellers - and dealers will be more firm on price but hopefully you will be able to check out a few pianos in one trip, saving time and allowing side-by-side comparisons. Just stay away from anything that says "antique" - tall old uprights will have a powerful sound, but will not pass emissions testing, so to speak.

Once you have explored Craigslist a bit and perhaps checked out a few pianos, you will probably have an idea of what you want to spend. However, just as with cars, you can occasionally find a good "moving special" where you can upgrade to a better piano for a below-market price. And obviously everything is negotiable, especially in the current market.

Even if you are not an experienced pianist, you can often tell if a piano is a good deal with a little advance research. What's more, you can even hire someone to check the piano out for you -  akin to hiring a mechanic to come out and check to see whether a car is a lemon. In any case, don't be afraid to kick the tires and try out the instrument a bit yourself - gut instinct is valid, so don't be intimidated if you're not a musician.

Talent? Yes. Hours of practice? You bet.

Seeing this video of a little boy playing Mozart's "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik", it is tempting to say, "Wow! That kid is so talented. I wish I (or my kids) had that kind of talent."

Yes, this child has a tremendous ear. But the thing is, his ear has been developed. His fine motor skills have been refined. How? Hours and hours of practice every week (initiated by Barrett himself) plus an average of two to three lessons per week.

Barrett's parents aren't professional musicians. They don't even care if he becomes a musician. They only saw a few green shoots of a natural inclination coming up through the soil, and decided to nurture them by providing him with access to a piano, music to listen to, and skilled teachers.

What's kind of cool is that he is an Eclectic Music student, and he has really found a home here. Sometimes Barrett will stop by after preschool and just hang out for awhile, playing various instruments and jamming with whichever teachers or students happen to be around. It's pure fun, although since Barrett has two younger siblings it takes some logistical creativity on the part of his mom to make it happen.

It takes time, energy, and sacrifice to support a young musician, and it takes consistent effort on the part of the student to make music. You see this video, and you see only a five-year-old "prodigy" playing Mozart. It looks like magic. I promise you it takes passion, dedication, and plain old hard work to make it look that easy no matter how old you are.

We should all find something in life to get so excited about that we get up early or stay up late to do it, the way Barrett does with music. If there's anything to be wistful about here, it is to wish we could have found our life's passion at age four. But at whatever age you find it, follow Barrett's example and get down to business. After all, he does have a bit of a head start.

Guitars are like shoes.

You can get by with just one (or one pair). But once you open the door to having more than one, you can end up with twenty and still find situations for which nothing you have is quite right, and a new purchase is required.

Guitarists with GAS (Guitar Acquisition Syndrome, per my father who’s got it bad) must always strive to make peace with the fact that they will never have enough guitars, and simply enjoy both the process of researching new guitars and the music they make with the ones they’ve got. And if you’re in the unenviable position of being the parent or a spouse of an individual with GAS, just take the same approach that you would buying shoes for a seven-year-old boy: at first just get something that fits the vast majority of situations, knowing that no matter what you get, it will quickly be outgrown, worn out, or otherwise outmoded.

Wearing Nikes in church = playing “Sweet Child o’ Mine” on a $100 Washburn acoustic. Don’t worry, your birthday is coming.