I started writing this blog last fall, and publishing it in December, as is probably obvious  to you if you are reading this now.  This week, I was going to post an entry on how practicing is like and not like playing video games, but since something incredible happened this weekend, you’ll have to wait to hear about video games and music practice.

It all started with the first draft of my entry on Metronome Trick No. 1. (but as you will read, it goes back even further in time than that…) Here is a paragraph that I cut from the final entry about that metronome trick:

I learned this technique the weekend I auditioned for Eastman.  I was staying with a friend of mine from high school, and his roommate, a violinist named (I think!) Tom, told me about it.  I forget the exact context of the conversation, but what I do remember is that he made it sound like no other practice technique was worth bothering with, because this one was so superior.

So, did I make an effort to track down the identity of the mystery violinist so that he could be properly credited and included in my entry?  No, I did not.  I confess it just seemed easier to cut the paragraph from the article.

But the small world of music did the job for me.  I spent the last few days at the very awesome Chamber Music America Conference where I was talking to the cool flutist Laura Barron. When she casually mentioned that she had just run into a violinist friend from Eastman 20 years ago named Tom, I did not immediately leap on that tidbit of information (I didn’t want to appear crazy, after all.)  I bided my time, and later in the conversation I asked if she knew my friend from high school, the composer Brian Schachter, with whom I had stayed lo those many years ago.  When she said she did, I knew it had to be the same Tom.

Sure enough, I got to meet him later at the conference and solved the mystery of his moniker: it turns out his last name is Stone, and he plays with the Cypress Quartet. When I told him the story, he said, “Yeah, that sounds like me.  I had pretty strong opinions when I was a teenager.”

me, contemplating the small world we live in, writing this entry on the plane after the conference.

I cannot tell you how cool it was to re-meet someone who inadvertently had such a big effect on me.  That was the only conversation I had with Tom when I was there for my audition, but I was so green, so wanting to be in music school, and to know all the things people like Tom knew, that it had a huge effect on me.  He said it with such force and conviction — I wanted to feel that confident about playing and practicing!  He just swept into the room, anointed me with his wisdom and swept out – and didn’t even know how much he affected me.

And what a pearl of wisdom it is, people.  Metronome Trick No. 1 has been my main way of practicing ever since.  Probably 75% of my practice time is spent going up two and down one on ye olde metronome.  And there he was at the conference:  Mystery Tom, from the mists of time!  Talking to me!

So, thank you, Tom Stone, for having strong opinions when you were a teenager, and for being at the CMA Conference. And thank you, world, for twice giving me information that I needed.

Sam Baron, grand old man of the flute and one of my teachers, used to say that working with a metronome was like taking a vitamin—you need to do it each day.  OK, maybe he actually said that vitamin thing about playing Bach, but I think it applies to metronome work, too.

The thing is, no one (and I mean NO ONE) has a truly perfect sense of time.  Except maybe Jason Marsalis, but he probably practices with a metronome too!  So, if you are not Jason Marsalis, if you are one of the rest of us, please continue reading.

Metronome Trick No. 1, along with the practice notebook, is one of the most powerful practice techniques I have ever found.  If you don’t read any more of this blog ever, if all you do is adopt the practice notebook and this trick, you will definitely improve your practicing, and therefore, your playing.

So what is it, after all this buildup?  It’s pretty simple.

1. Choose a small section to work on.
2. Choose a metronome speed that is slow enough that you can play it exactly how you want to EVERY TIME at that tempo.
3. Repeat the passage 4 to 7 times at that tempo.  (note:  professionals—4 times will usually be enough, beginners will need more)
4. Now set the metronome two clicks faster than your original tempo.
5. Repeat the passage 4 to 7 times at the new tempo.
6. Set the metronome to the tempo one click down from this faster tempo.
7. Repeat the passage 4 to 7 times at the new tempo.
8. Continue on, setting the metronome up two, then down one, repeating the passage the full 4 to 7 times at each level, until you get to a tempo that is two clicks faster than the target performance tempo.

What’s it for?  This trick is the most efficient way to learn a passage of music and get it up to performance tempo.

And, if you were following along, you will note that this method will yield A LOT of repetition of your passage.  That’s one of the reasons it works.  Here are some of the others:

Unlike the old stand-by of increasing the tempo one click at a time until you reach performance tempo, this technique has you building a very strong foundation for that eventual fast tempo.  When you just increase steadily, and never decrease, you are essentially building yourself out on a limb.  Eventually, you have nothing below you.  Up two down one is like building straight up on your strong foundation.

Another reason this technique is so effective is that it gives you a chance (in the down one) to integrate what you learned when playing it up two.  The pressure is off, you’re at a slower tempo, and you can relax and play, instead of trying like you did at up two.

Yes, it does take time to do that many repetitions.  Give it a try anyway! I assure you, when you use this trick, in conjunction with the other principles and techniques we’ll cover here, you will agree it is the most efficient way to learn a difficult passage.  None of your time on this technique will be wasted.

When you’re in performance, you want to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you can play that passage every time.  Metronome Trick No. 1 will help give you that confidence.

[NOTE:  You will need an old school metronome for this.  Trust me when I say that the tempo levels on a non-digital metronome are perfect for this technique…there will be more info in a later article on The Old School Metronome and The Human Scale.  In the meantime, for those of you with nifty new-fangled digital metronomes,  here is a clip-n-save list of ye olde metronome markings:  ye-olde-met-markings1]

So, let’s say you want to bring a passage from quarter equals 80 up to quarter equals 100. Here’s the order of metronome markings you would use, always mindfully and successfully playing the passage 4 to 7 times at each separate tempo:

1. 80
2. up to 88
3. down to 84
4. 92
5. back to 88
6. 96
7. 92
8. 100
9. 96
10. 104
11. 100
12. 108
13. you’ve got it!

[Note:  the awesome photo above is from http://www.flickr.com/photos/mcgladdery/2355605963/ ]

Why to write (or why I write, anyway)

Part of the value of the practice notebook is that it makes your work visible. This is of prime importance in the music world—no one pays you to practice, no one applauds when you’ve finished your scales, and though your always-growing skill is a great reward, it is often a real challenge to feel accomplished when you practice and have nothing to show for it. You know, a carpenter builds a set of shelves, and they have the shelves as proof of their work. An artist does a painting, and even if it’s still in progress after a day’s or week’s work, it’s there to see (and touch even)—a visible, tangible monument to their work and talent.

Now, I don’t expect that the Met will ever have an exhibition of the practice notebooks of the great musicians of our time, but the practice notebook can go a long way to make you feel good about the amount and quality of the work you’re doing, simply by making it visible and tangible.

But wait, there’s more!

I’d like to list a few more benefits that you can keep an eye out for as you experiment with keeping a practice notebook. Keeping a practice log allows you to:

• Keep track of what still needs to be done (write yourself a note: come back to bar 12, work on bars 234 and 235 together now, start 2nd movement tomorrow).

• Give yourself encouragement. Don’t be shy about it—remember how I said this wouldn’t be posted in front of the class? Go ahead—put a gold star every time you meet your practice goal! Or write in curse words! Or both!

• Be your own best teacher by keeping track of what works and what doesn’t

• Get to have a cool notebook.  Isn’t this one pretty?

• Have fun, later on in life, to look back at a record of your past life in music. Remember when you took that big audition? Remember when you first started working with your favorite teacher?  Here’s mine from the day I took my Tales & Scales audition:
  

A special note to the beginners out there: have you ever wished you could have your teacher there with you all week, making sure you practice right? This is a great way to learn to practice—what works, what doesn’t, what’s fun, and what isn’t. It’s especially valuable if you are not practicing every day—to help keep track of where you are, and what still needs time and attention.

A note to the professionals and conservatory students out there: I know you’re skeptical! Try it anyway!

Besides yourself and your instrument, the practice notebook is the single most important tool in your practicing.

I know, I know, those of you who have been playing for a while, or who are already in music school, or, gasp, professionals, are thinking, “Practice notebook? You mean like those charts I used to have to fill out for band practice? In fifth grade?”

Well, no, not exactly. This is not a chart you fill out and post in front of class, in order to separate the “good” students from the “bad.”

Instead, it is a notebook that you keep for yourself, where you can keep track of all of your hard work, all your ideas of things that need work, and best of all, that you can flip back through from time to time, to see how much you’ve done.

So here’s my story about practice notebooks: I ran the New York City Marathon in 1999—my one and only marathon so far. I had never trained for anything like that before, so I just followed the plan for beginners laid out by the NY Roadrunners Club—I followed it to the day, and kept track on a wall calendar of all the running I did, how far and how fast (or how slow, depending on your perspective), and how I felt each time. The deal with marathons, for beginners, is that you don’t actually ever run 26.2 miles until the race itself—your longest training run is usually 20 or 22 miles. So, as the marathon approached, I was freaking out about whether or not I was ready, since I was going to be running a distance that was a full 4 miles more than my longest run to date. So, just imagine how calming it was to flip through my calendar and see all of the running I had done, and know that I had run every run the NYRRC says to: it was proof that I was ready for the marathon.

I ran the marathon, it was fun and exhausting, and a few months later I was getting ready for a big audition for a ballet orchestra, as well as preparing for a solo competition. It was a lot to prepare, all the ballet music was new to me, and I was really having a hard time managing it all—and once again found myself pretty freaking out about whether or not I would be ready. I was bemoaning that fact to my good friend Polly, who responded by saying, “Did you learn anything from the marathon that could be helpful here?” My first reaction, honestly, was “What the hell kind of cheap do-it-yourself-life-coach question is that?” My second was “Well, it was pretty cool to write it all down.”

And so began my strong belief in the value of practice notebooks.

What to write (or what I write, that can serve as a starting point for you):

I keep track of the time of each practice session, and what I practice in each session. Usually just what piece, and maybe what movement or section I’ve been working on. A typical entry looks something like this:

21 January 2000

That’s really all you have to do to start getting a benefit from keeping these records, and that’s often all I do, as well.

HOWEVER, there are some great benefits to putting in some other commentary in your notebook. If you’ve been really struggling with something, write yourself some encouragement:

22 January 2000

Or, more enthusiastically:

29 May 2007

Sometimes I like to keep a record of how I felt, or what I would like to be better:

18 November 1999

8 October 2008

10 March 2000

And sometimes I can’t be bothered with being positive and write:

22 February 2008

Or just:

31 May 2007

Coming next time:  Why to write it