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Introduction - practicing and performing
Think back to your last big solo performance before the pandemic, maybe an audition or a recital. Recall how you felt on stage while playing - were you relaxed, focused, and playing effortlessly? Were you so “in the zone” that when you reflect back, you don’t quite remember everything that happened but you’re satisfied that it went well?
Or was it more of a struggle? Did you feel like you were battling against your own thoughts, counting mistakes as they went by, or sort of “keeping score” in your head? When it was over, were you annoyed and frustrated, as if your performance didn’t match up to all the hard work you put in to prepare?
We’ve all had both of these experiences at different times in our lives as musicians. Sometimes just one sublime, Zen-like experience on stage is enough to compel us towards a whole career in music, chasing after that sensation of connection and flow. But I’ve noticed that we often fall into dubious practice habits as we strive to improve our craft. Practicing can become a vague and repetitive grind if we become overly obsessed with purely technical ideas like accuracy, sound quality, clarity, consistency and sense of time. It’s easy to forget about that sense of connection and flow when we examine our playing like a lab scientist with an electron microscope. If we don’t break out of this mindset, we might never learn how to play music because we get so busy practicing it.
As a younger player, I’d often find myself just a day or two before a big performance, realizing “uh oh, I haven’t actually performed this piece yet, I’ve only practiced it … guess I better do a couple run-throughs before the big show.” I always prepared thoroughly, but I was straining myself to see how many hours I could practice, as if brute force would lead me to success. Most of my practice was analytical and I would practice performing only if I got around to it. I think many of us operate like this, dutifully treading water but never really learning how to swim. Let’s take a look at two complementary practice modes and see if there’s room to improve our methods.
Analysis - the left brain deliberate practice
The first mode is sometimes called Deliberate Practice, and it’s probably a bit different than what you’re currently doing. In a deliberate practice session you choose several specific short-term goals, such as unlocking a smoother roll or playing a set of excerpts five clicks faster than you did yesterday. You intentionally focus on your weaknesses (not your strengths) because the long-term objective is to eliminate technical issues, inaccuracies, and inconsistencies, refining your skill until you reach technical mastery. You gradually improve by using constant feedback, primarily done by recording yourself and listening back to evaluate. Each session, each day, each week builds on prior work, climbing steadily towards a big performance like a solo recital or orchestral audition. The sheer intensity of deliberate practice dictates that only a few hours per day are actually possible - try heaping on more than that and you’ll quickly experience diminishing returns as your brain and body start to fatigue. I recommend checking out MET timpanist Jason Haaheim’s website to learn more about developing your Deliberate Practice.¹
This practice mode is distinctly left brain-oriented. It’s well known that the left hemisphere of the brain is the center of analytical thinking, so it’s the hub of your warranted obsession with efficiency, accuracy, dynamics and articulation, tempo and rhythm, and all the mechanical aspects involved in playing percussion. We necessarily spend the majority of our practice time in this mode. But that doesn’t mean the other half of your brain turns off when you practice this way! (There’s constant activity across both halves of the brain throughout the day.) Let’s take a look at the other practice mode, which brings your right brain into the picture.
Flow - the right brain art of performing
The second mode is what I call “performance practice” - that is, intentionally rehearsing the full performance you’re preparing to give. How many of us actually do this as a regular part of our routines? I’m talking about playing the full show from start to finish - no do-overs, rest breaks, or second chances. In our world, performance practice takes the form of a mock audition or a recital run-through. This aspect of preparation is too often underutilized or avoided by percussionists, especially those of us who prepare for orchestral auditions. It’s totally understandable, given the variety of different instruments and repertoire we need to master during our preparation. But often we spend so much of our time in the analytical mode that actually performing the music is an afterthought.
The goal of a performance practice session is distinctly different than the goal of deliberate practice, so the two shouldn’t be approached the same way. You’re now learning to create the flow state that you want to experience when you’re on stage and the pressure is on. Try putting away the metronome and notebook, and instead, call to mind an abstract image or scene that connects you to the music you’re about to play. Hold this image in your mind for a moment before beginning, and even keep it loosely in your awareness while playing. This mental practice encourages you to engage with the character and style of the music while letting go of the urge to dissect all the technical components. While moving from piece to piece throughout a practice performance, call to mind a new image or scene for each selection, keeping your mind engaged in this imaginative non-technical realm. And of course, this thought pattern is produced primarily by the right brain - the hub of our visual imagery, creativity, spontaneity, emotion, and intuition.
Praxis: Háry János
A great side effect of this intentional right-brain thinking is that it prevents any self-critiques from creeping in during a performance. By focusing on abstract metaphors and images, it’s harder to drift back towards that left-brain analytical mode used in countless hours of deliberate practice. Let’s take the xylophone part in the last movement of Kodaly’s Háry János Suite as an example. In the final moment before playing this excerpt in a pressure situation, I might think “okay, now remember to use quick lateral upstrokes, initiated by wrist action, in order to shape the grace notes on the first beat, so that the figure comes through clearly.” This could’ve been an important note during deliberate practice, but I avoid thoughts like this when I perform. Instead, I choose to imagine a scene like this:
… a lively parade bumbles through a small village, and all the people have come outside to observe as a short, overdressed and pompous emperor is carried down the street on an absurd little throne, followed by a marching band…
We tried, Stephen. We tried. Image by The Percussion Conservatory.
Sounds a bit silly, right? But I like images that are playful or even bizarre, because now I’ll step up to the xylophone with a little smile, a certain lightness in my hands, and the bright sound of the piccolo in my ears. If I’m flooded with technical thoughts right before I play, I usually tense up in fear of making a mistake. Without fail, I perform better under pressure when I intentionally activate my imaginative right brain. After I’m done playing, it feels as if I shared a set of colorful characters with my audience, rather than having just hammered out a few percussion excerpts.
Parting Thoughts
I love the way this analysis-versus-flow dichotomy is summed up by psychologist Angela Duckworth in her book, “Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance.”²
“You don’t have to be doing deliberate practice and experiencing flow at the same time … in fact, for most experts, they rarely go together … the primary motivation for doing effortful deliberate practice is to improve your skill … the motivation that predominates during flow, in contrast, is entirely different. The flow state is intrinsically pleasurable. You don’t care whether you’re improving some narrow aspect of your skill set. And though you’re concentrating one hundred percent, you’re not at all in “problem-solving” mode … you’re floating. You lose track of time. No matter how fast you’re running or how intensely you’re thinking, when you’re in flow, everything feels effortless. In other words, deliberate practice is for preparation, and flow is for performance.”
I’d encourage you to check out Angela’s book if this idea resonates with you. Some orchestral musicians are beginning to embrace the mock audition as an essential part of their preparation, and I’m encouraged by this trend. But I want to stress that this is not a “one-size-fits-all” solution - some players find a natural flow state intuitively, while others (like me) have to actively work to wrestle music-making away from our analytical left brains. In the final days and weeks of my preparation, I intentionally shift away from deliberate practice and focus completely on my flow state. I put myself through a sequence of different performance situations, both alone and in front of others, in order to break out of my analytical left-brain mindset. And this strategy is not just for orchestral players! I think all musicians can use this approach, regardless of the genre of music we play or the type of performances we give. In the end, what matters is not how many hours you spent in the practice room or how many mocks you played. What’s essential is that you struck the right balance between the two modes so that you perform at your highest level when the lights come on and the stage is yours.
Stephen Kehner
April 22, 2021
Edited by Charlie Rosmarin
If you enjoyed learning from Stephen Kehner, be sure to check out his page and take a look at his Audition Readiness Guide.
Links:
[2] Duckworth, Angela. Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance pp. 131. Illustrated, Scribner, 2018, angeladuckworth.com/grit-book.