Developing Musicianship by Al Payson
. . . with a little help from Alfred North Whitehead
Possibly the most erudite and succinct description of the educational process was given by British mathematician and philosopher Alfred North Whitehead (1861–1947) when he said, "It consists of going from freedom through discipline to freedom again." When I read that little gem it set me to thinking about how that could be applied to music education in particular, and I recalled the words of a former teacher of mine. After I learned my first piece, he said to me, "All right, you know the piece. Now forget the notes and play music!" In Whitehead's terms, he was saying, "Okay, you've gotten through the 'discipline' phase, and it's time to go on to the 'freedom again' phase."
To what degree I could do this when performing the piece I don't recall, but it was surely a long, long way from 100 percent. Freeing oneself from the mechanics of his or her instrument, in front of an audience, does not happen immediately. It must be practiced, just like everything else. In addition, for the amateur performing in public, there is the issue of overcoming distractions: the strange acoustics, the bright lights, the audience noises, the thought of so many people listening to your every note (stage fright) and so forth. But all these things, one by one, must eventually be overcome for one to perform musically.
So one should realize that making the transition from "discipline" to "freedom again" is not easy. Also, one should understand that he does not stay in the "discipline" for years, until he has mastered his instrument, before going on to "freedom again." Rather, he goes through the entire three-part process with each new piece, repeating it again and again while advancing through his studies.
The Artist
The first major artist I saw perform in recital was Vladimir Horowitz. It is vivid in my memory how his program began. He
walked onto the stage, bowed and sat down at the piano. He then let his arms drop loosely to his sides, bowed his
head, closed his eyes and sat absolutely motionless for about fifteen seconds (which seemed like fifteen minutes). He
then launched into the first work of his program.
The first thing I noticed was that Horowitz seemed completely oblivious of the audience. It was as if he were playing for himself in his own studio. And one thing the listener did not notice was piano technique. One did not get a glimmer of the hours of slow, diligent practice. No matter how difficult or involved a passage was, he had it so well under control that it did not interrupt the flow of the music. In other words, the audience was not aware of technique for technique's sake.
A fine drumset player will impress the listener the same way, even though his milieu is entirely different. His technique is completely under control, his drumset almost second-nature to him, his sticks like extensions of his hands. His mind is free to concentrate on the ensemble: to blend, to brighten, to punctuate, to drive, or whatever he wishes. Fills and solos, no matter how intricate, are always smooth and fluid, never sounding forced.
The Tyro
A major pitfall in the path to becoming a fine musician is the habitual practice of skimming lightly over the "discipline" in
going from "freedom" to "freedom again." The person who does this is commonly called a tyro or dilettante.
We have all seen and heard him perform. He plunges into a piece with great gusto and abandon, but with very little technique to back it up. He mistakenly thinks that what he lacks in proficiency will be carried along by his great talent and musicianship. The result is a crude display of incompetence. This type of musician is usually the first to fall by the wayside.
In the case of the mediocre talent, it is no severe loss to the music world, although it should be mentioned that there is nothing wrong with being a dilettante. So long as one satisfies his own tastes for music and is happy with his own playing, a purpose has been served. But what grieves teachers the most is having a gifted student who could become a fine performer, but who will just not commit to the necessary amount of practice.
The Pedant
Another major pitfall on the road to becoming a fine musician is getting stuck in the "discipline" and never moving on
to the "freedom again." The musician who falls into this category is often referred to as a pedant. This is the person
who gives a precise, meticulous performance–one that is technically perfect, with each and every note in exactly the
right place, at the designated tempo, with all the dynamics, nuances, ritards, etc. But his performance always seems
wanting or perfunctory, failing to convey the mood or character of the music. As Tennyson put it: "Faultily
faultless, icily regular, splendidly null, dead perfection; no more."
The pedant does not realize that playing music goes beyond correct performance (or, realizing it, is still incapable of doing it). The incurable pedant is the highly self-motivated achiever, thorough and meticulous in all his activities, who approaches the study of music as another problem to be mastered. His interest in music is not the music itself, but the challenge of mastering a musical instrument. This type of person usually is attracted to difficult pieces that display technical virtuosity.
Since the pedant is not as easy for the layman to detect as is the dilettante or tyro, he sometimes achieves modest success in the music profession, particularly if he has a good teacher. It would be wise for the person who wishes to pursue a career in music to first do some soul-searching, in frank honesty with oneself, to determine what his basic goals really are.
The Stylist
In addition to the two pitfalls already discussed, there is a side road to be avoided if one is to become a fine
musician: the conscious search for a style of playing. One should realize that since every person has a different
personality, each musician will have his own style of performance, and it is not necessary to purposely cultivate
one; it is inborn and will develop naturally. In fact, the deliberate cultivation of style, be it original or that of an idol, will
sound and look contrived or affected. And affectations detract from the music itself.
The incurable stylist is the person who uses music primarily as a vehicle to project his own ego. His success will be limited to the lower forms of commercial music. The true musician does not try to "express himself" or "portray the world" through his playing, but rather endeavors to give an honest presentation of the music itself. He has a "pure" style that is marked by the absence of superfluous (and hence distracting) emoting and physical gestures.
"It consists of going from freedom through discipline to freedom again." While Alfred Whitehead's statement is brilliant in its brevity, we know that the road itself is not short. However, the music student can save an enormous amount of time and effort by avoiding (or, hopefully, by being led past) the many pitfalls and side roads along the way.
Al Payson is a retired percussionist with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, a position he held for 40 years, and is an elected member of the Percussive Arts Society Hall of Fame. He has many instructional materials in publication, including Beginning Snare Drum Method.
