"If You Can't Feel the Music, Don't Try to Play it." -Article

College Majors Music Major
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<p>Found this online. Thought it was intersting. Maybe some of you will like it. </p>

<p>If You Can't Feel the Music, Don't Try to Play It
(updated 11/15/02)</p>

<p>Karen was terrific to play with. She could feel the music. In 3 years of playing music for Hope Lutheran's contemporary service, we learned to read each other's minds. I could tell when she was going to jump up an octave on the piano, so I'd stay in the regular register on my synthesizer. Later, I'd decide to jump up an octave and she'd know it instinctively and stay in the low range or start improvising a counter-melody to set off what I was doing. We were a team. We were a team because we could both feel the music; the music flowed from inside our hearts where it actually lived.</p>

<p>Anybody can play an instrument. Anybody can get proficient on an instrument and dazzle the lesser ones with their technical skills. But if you can't feel the music it's just technique, and might as well be coming from a computer. Without the music that comes from inside, you have a series of notes, nothing more. The music is not what comes out of the instrument, it's what comes out of you. And the musician is not the one who plays an instrument or sings the right notes with a properly-shaped voice, the musician is one with the music inside, the one who can't help but let it out in any way possible for the sheer joy of it, and because it's there. </p>

<p>I have known plenty of people who can play an instrument, and they usually begin because they hear something they like played by somebody they come to admire. That's how I got started: I heard one of the "cool" kids in second grade play a simple little rock-style ditty on his electric guitar and I knew I had to have one. I wanted to do that so much!!! My parents bought me, first, an acoustic guitar that was about 2 sizes too big for my body, and then a nifty double-cutaway electric with a wussy little amplifier. Within a year I had bought myself a much more "appropriate" amp. By that time, of course, I knew how to play the guitar. My parents saw to that: the stipulation for buying it was that I would take lessons weekly, practice religiously and stick with it for more than 5 minutes. The last time I saw Terry Mills, he was professor of classical guitar at University of the Pacific; when I took lessons from him, he was a terrified music student at that same university. But boy, could he teach. </p>

<p>Terry had insight, too. He taught me my first chord progression - G C D G - and within a week I was playing secondary chords in the same key. I had a book that showed the chords along with their "relative minor" chords, whatever that was. All I knew was, it sounded cool. And I could find it in most any key. If Terry moved me into C, I could count down the frets and come up with A minor as its relative minor, and use it in a progression. Rather than get upset that I wasn't following the plan, Terry encouraged me to experiment. He said something about being a natural and having "the ear." I always thought I had 2 ears, but maybe he knew something I didn't. Hey, I was only 7.</p>

<p>Terry taught me for a full year before he finished college and had to move on. After that, I taught myself. I listened to records and the radio and tried to mimic what they were doing. My idol was Eric Clapton, and I could listen to "Crossroads" and "Spoonful" and all the rest for hours, as well as "Strange Brew," "Dance the Night Away," or later on the lone "Blind Faith" album, "Sea of Joy" and all the others. But I noticed one interesting thing about Eric: he rarely if ever did a song the same way twice. It was as though he tailored his leads on the spot to how he felt, or how the room felt, or how much electricity an ungrounded amp was piping through his fingers, or whatever. I soon learned the word for this: improvisation. I realized almost at once that this was what I was: an improviser. So I began to depart from the licks I heard Eric do on Disraeli Gears and the other albums, and started following my own heart. How do I feel in this song? It would come out my fingers. Soon my friends started to take notice, and I was playing occasionally with them in their garages, living rooms, wherever, and we would always think about forming a band. It never happened, but I kept playing for the next 7 years, getting better and better at improvisation and hearing what was going on.</p>

<p>My goal was rock and roll, but having been a Christian and a faithful church-goer all my life, I played with a youth band/choir at my church as well. I rarely took that part of my music seriously, though, so God devised an unusual way to get my attention: He broke my left hand. I was riding my bike to school as fast as I could go (because I was late), pushing for all I was worth, and the front wheel just stopped turning. Nobody ever figured out why; the speculation was a bad bearing. Whatever the cause, the bike stopped and I didn't. I sailed over the handlebars and hit the street like a sack of bricks. Besides the obvious gash on the point of my chin, from which I still have a nice scar, two metacarpals in my left hand were fractured. The doctor put a cast on it, but I didn't have the patience to wear a cast so I pulled off the part that held my hand still. Big mistake; to this day my hand cramps if I try to play guitar for more than 5 minutes. It wasn't until 4 years later, at age 19, that I rediscovered music. For the next 2 years at Delta College, and after that a year and a half at the University of the Pacific, I immersed myself in ear training, composition, and playing the organ and piano.</p>

<p>It is safe to say by now that I could feel the music. Feeling the music was my passion, it was there in every waking moment of every day no matter what else I might be doing. Best of all, I discovered that I could play a lot of keyboard music even with my bad left hand, and what I couldn't play directly I could improvise by simplifying it to its basic chordal parts. When I left UOP (without the degree, for various irrelevant reasons), I took the music with me. Anywhere I went, I refused to miss an opportunity to let the music out. It has been that way ever since, across 7 states and nearly 25 years.</p>

<p>During those years, I have occasionally had to play with someone who can't feel the music. These experiences have taught me one major lesson: I can't do it. I cannot play with someone who can't feel the music; it becomes an exercise in frustration and destroys the experience for me. I come away asking myself, "What is that person doing there at all?" I recall one lovely older lady, one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet, from one of the churches I played in. Technically, she was great. She could sight-read just about anything, and frequently accompanied our choir playing some unbelievably complex piano parts. When it came time for us to play together, though, she did the same thing with the music we were playing: all she knew how to do was sight-read. This meant, among other things, that if the song leader wanted to repeat a chorus one more time, or go back to verse X one more time, or change key and move up a notch, she couldn't do it. The printed page was her master, not the music; she simply couldn't feel it. </p>

<p>I'm not putting this person down. Her ministry to me and to the church in other capacities was wonderful. But at the foundational level, she didn't have the music inside and so she couldn't feel it. I played with her twice, and after the second time I resolved that I couldn't do it again. No matter what a great person she was, I couldn't play with someone who can't feel the music.</p>

<p>More recently, I got to be part of a praise band. This band included some fantastic musicians: a bass player who really feels the music and is absolute master of his instrument, two excellent drummers, a rhythm guitarist who not only felt, but wrote music, and a handful of dedicated and Spirit-led singers. Unfortunately, it also included a band leader who coun't feel the music. </p>

<p>Don't get me wrong: this guy is a lead guitarist and can do some dazzling things on that instrument. However, as I already said, anybody can play an instrument. He's a great showman, and every service was like a concert with him introducing the songs, delivering little talks between them, and other performance-based activities. But the music usually wasn't there. And leading or playing in a praise band isn't about performance or showmanship, it's about the music. If the music isn't there, you don't have praise. It's that simple.</p>

<p>Carrying this guy was one of the hardest things I've ever done. We would go to start a song that has a tempo of about 120, and he would count at about 75. Then when the rest of the band followed his count, he'd get mad at the drummer for not setting a proper tempo. Fully 90% of our stops in practice were because he couldn't figure out where he was. Worse, he had a range of about 4 keys that he can play in. Once I wrote a song that I put in B flat, because it made the melody easy for a congregation to work with. He had a fit because I didn't "take the band members into consideration." Well, the band members were fine with it, but he didn't know how to play in B flat. I tried to tell him that all he had to do was play in A one fret higher, but he was incapable of such a thing: he coun't do that because he coun't feel the music. </p>

<p>After much consideration, I've come up with a good word for this kind of person, the kind who can play an instrument but isn't a musician. Such a person I call a hack. A hack is somebody who may have technical mastery over an instrument (or not) but doesn't have the music inside. S/he has to have an external source for things like rhythm, beat, and has to learn intricate lines by rote; such a person will most always do the same thing every time s/he plays a song, because those lines have to be constructed like Tinker Toys into something this person can not only play, but remember. If the hack forgets one of these memorized lines, that part of the tune goes straight out the window. There's no music to hold it, so it just slips away of its own accord.</p>

<p>Is it possible for a hack to become a true musician? To put it another way, can a person learn to feel the music? Good question. It depends on several other questions. The most important of these is: how badly do you want to be a real musician? It requires, above all things, a teachable spirit, a willingness to set aside what you thought you knew in favor of a deep and lasting change in the heart. If you think you've already got it, forget it. If you've been doing the technique but haven't been taught to bring the music from inside, you've got to be prepared to put it all aside and start from scratch. The difference really is that vast.</p>

<p>Let's take the simplest musical form as an example: the scale. An accomplished musician, say a pianist, can play scales in most of the major keys. But if this person comes across a scale with some "flavor" in it, some extra notes, chromatics, skips, whatever, done in C Major, can they do the same thing in another key just by hearing the original and transposing? A musician, in most instances, will be able to figure it out because the music is coming from inside, not from technique. A hack will have to write it out, then fumble around figuring out how many lines or spaces the change takes, then go back and sort out the accidentals, then probably give up and do something else. </p>

<p>Some of what the musician does is learned, of course; there's no substitute for some training in music theory, and especially ear training as it relates to theory. A musician who learns the pattern of a melodic minor scale will, at once, be able to play (or at least pick out in a few seconds) that same scale in just about any key. A complex rhythm will be picked up within a hearing or two, not because it's technically understood but because it is felt. </p>

<p>Theory by itself, though, can't internalize the music. This has to be a choice and act of the heart. In addition, it's a life-changing choice. Once you learn to feel the music, you will never be the same. You will never hear music quite the same way again, nor will you play music the same way. Elevator music in a shopping mall will become the subject of unconscious scrutiny as it floats through your head: you'll analyze it, find yourself humming the melody, telling yourself "I could have done that a lot better" and otherwise obsessing on it. Are you prepared for that?</p>

<p>The second question to ask is, why? Why do you want to be a musician? Why do you want to undergo such a life-change and step out of the comfort zone of Hackville? After all, one might say, I've come this far doing what I'm doing, and people think I'm pretty good. Why do I need to go further? Why can't I just do my technical stuff and leave all this feeling crap to somebody else?</p>

<p>This takes us to a more fundamental question: why do you play music in the first place? Why bother? The answers to this question are as diverse as the people answering it. Some want the spotlight, some like to stretch themselves, some gave in to peer pressure somewhere along the line, others just want to be like their heroes. The hack that I mentioned above who led the band fell into this last category. His idol was Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin. He learned every lead line that Page ever played, learned the names of all the chords and sequences and trained his fingers to do all the things Jimmy Page did. That was what being a guitarist meant to him; that's why he was a hack.</p>

<p>The best musicians play the music because they can't help it. When they're not playing it, they're listening to it. When they're not listening to it, they're humming it inside their heads. </p>

<p>But that's not all they're doing. They're seeing themselves playing it (or dreading the day when they have to, if it's really awful music) and hearing all the great things they're going to do with it when they do, to make it even better than it is now. This improvement won't be technical, it will be emotional. They'll internalize it and let it flow out in a form that is uniquely their own, an expression of the person inside. A hack will ask "What did Fred Fredson do with this in 1908? I could do that..." And once the hack gets the idea "dialed in," it will be cast in stone for all of eternity. Nothing will change it, no matter what the circumstances. The musician might play it with a huge flourish today, and with a lilting melodic flavor tomorrow; it all depends on what the world is like in that little corner at that particular time. Only one who feels the music can do that.</p>

<p>So where does this leave us? It leaves each of us who wants to make music with a choice: the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is to become a technician, a hack, able to tell anyone anything in the world about the instrument but never quite feeling what it does, using technique as a cover and substitute for the emptiness inside. The hard way is to let the music be what it is according to what's inside, in a very real sense letting the music take over and do what it wants to. If you can already feel the music and know what I mean by this, you've obviously already made the choice somewhere along the line. Technique will come with practice; I can do things with my bad left hand now that I wouldn't have dreamed of 10 years ago. Good instruction will bring good technique, but only a true musician can apply that technique to the internal dance that is unique to each person and create something truly beautiful, something that can genuinely be called "music." </p>

<p>Addendum
Since I wrote this essay 3 years ago, two major things have happened. First, that hack that I mentioned has become a musician. The transformation was nothing short of amazing. Some traumatic things happened that made him re-evaluate his musicianship, and what he saw he found lacking. So he began to learn. Among other things, he can now play in most any key I throw at him, but more important, he can feel what a piece of music is saying, and now when he plays that music flows out from within him. Playing alongside him now is a real joy. Even though we now live in two different states about a thousand miles apart, I find myself echoing Oliver Twist: "May I have some more?"
Even more significant for me personally: some time in early 2002, I honestly don't know when it happened, God healed my bad hand. I had bought an electric guitar for my oldest daughter, and I chose that particular one because the touch was so easy that "even I can play it." I started messing with it, and when she went off to college she left it behind with me. My hand still cramped, but I realized that I kind of missed guitar playing. Well, one day around March of '02 I was sitting around chatting with my wife and fiddling with the back of my left hand when I suddenly noticed something: "That lump is gone." Kathy, who is a nurse, examined it and agreed. Just for fun I started to test my fingers. For the first time in over 30 years, my last 2 fingers were working independently. I bounded out of my chair and grabbed the guitar, and played it for half an hour with absolutely no pain. These days, at the church where I currently play, it's my primary instrument. I can't praise my Lord enough for this awesome gift!</p>

<p>So a couple of conclusions arise from these events: first, yes, Virginia, a hack can become a musician. The question, as always, is "How badly do you want it?" My friend wanted it badly enough to go back to the beginning, do a harshly critical evaluation of his musicianship, and start over. If you don't want it that badly, don't bother. But he can tell you, the results are worth the risk. Second, God has His own ways, and His own timing. Why heal my hand now? I don't know. I don't care. My job, whether my hand is whole or handicapped, is to make the most of the musical gift He has given me and leave the details to Him. I tend to like that arrangement!</p>

<p>In the world of true music, the easy way is unacceptable. It is only by feeling the music that one can do justice to the medium. If you can't feel the music, either learn how to or don't play it.</p>

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<p>Great article....I bet my daughter would agree with it almost 100%.... She definately "feels" the music and it has to come out...thanks for sharing.</p>

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<p>Having heard a lot of music made by people who just do not get it, I sympathize with what musicallylatin is saying. The problem that I have is that neither musicality nor musicianship can be held to a universal objective standard. While there there may be general consensus at the extremes, there is also a huge middle ground of performers about whom informed listeners could reasonably disagree.</p>

<p>Suppose two musicians think that they each "feel the music" but that the other cannot. Who is to say which of them is correct? Should both of them stop making music until one produces verifiable proof that their version is right? Or should we require everyone else to choose up sides and thenceforward ignore the obviously inferior efforts of the other camp? What is "true" music? Can it be different for you than it is for me? If so, who is to say who should be playing and who should not?</p>

<p>I have been a church musician myself for more than 40 years. Heaven knows I have ranted a few times about the need for musicianship and musicality along with technique, for putting personality and attitude into music making and above all for having something to say to a congregation or to an audience that goes beyond the notes scribbled on the page. I have no problems with not wanting to make music with someone or not wanting to listen to them if you dislike what they are doing. Telling them that they have no right to continue playing or singing as they do because you disagree with their musical judgment strikes me as mere arrogance.</p>

<p>I agree that the easy way rarely produces anything of real worth in the world of music. It is easy to want to silence someone with whom you disagree. It is harder to teach them the correct way. It is harder still to admit that they might have something to teach you.</p>

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<p>Dang - I'm jumping in here against all my better instincts. I disagree on many points with this artiste. Yes, a relationship with music needs to go deeper than what a player piano can do. But....</p>

<p>Perhaps it is because I am a slave to the printed page that I feel affronted by this piece. I cannot play by ear, and my theory is not strong enough to improvise beyond a very basic level. It is ridiculous to imply that I can't feel the music because of that. That automatically implies that anyone who has no musical training at all cannot "feel the music." That would include a large part of the audience! In fact, it would say that Beethoven, who lost his hearing, could then not "feel the music," because he wouldn't be able to keep up with this precious guitarist.</p>

<p>When I take on new piano students, I always talk to the parents ahead of time. I explain that I think music is important for everyone - not just those who are destined for Carnegie Hall. I tell them that my primary goal is to teach their child to love music. When I work with my students, we spend the initial time learning the notes and rhythm of a piece. Once they have mastered that, we start exploring the "meaning" of the piece. What did the composer wish to say? How can we make the audience recognize that? We discuss how this piece of music can communicate to the listeners. We do all that without ever improvising or varying from the printed page. We look for the music within. It has nothing to do with many of the things this author mentions.</p>

<p>If my students continue with piano, if they switch instruments, or if they decide to stick to radio, I want them to love it. I spend a lot of time tearing down walls to make music accessible. I think articles like this build them back up again.</p>

<p>The idea in this article that the amazing pianist who can play difficult passages and sight read everything, but can't improvise and therefore isn't a "real" musician - well, that's ridiculous. I agree that there are many people who are technically proficient, but who miss the music inside - but frankly, I think there are many guitarists and worship leaders who can improvise all over the place - who still fit this description. I believe that it is much easier to improvise or transpose on certain instruments than on others. </p>

<p>I have been at recitals where I have felt that some of the students have mastered technical issues but have missed the soul of the piece. I do not believe that they have no business doing music at all - I just think they aren't done learning. And I've also noticed that there are plenty of folk in the audience who are amazed at their proficiency, who don't even seem to recognize what I saw. How silly of me to deny their pleasure because of my interpretation.</p>

<p>*Feeling * is a very subjective word. Trying to determine MY relationship with music based on yours, is like trying to evaluate my marriage based on yours, or my love for my kids based on yours. At the most basic level, I believe it is always dangerous and misguided when one person decides the "right" way to do music is his way. </p>

<p>
[quote]
Use what talents you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.
Henry Van Dyke

[/quote]
</p>

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<p>I found the author's superior attitude to be more than a little annoying. We have all heard this theory many times before and I suspect the theory is a bit thin. I guess there are a few musicians who are stiff and want to follow the music as written as faithfully and rigidly as possible. I think this approach is a rarity and the vast majority of musicians play because they enjoy music. Often times the stiffness is due to lack of proficiency. Those who struggle to play proficiently may not be able to go beyond the mechanical approach. One of the examples the author gave was someone who could play almost anything with an initial sight read. And exactly how much personality and creativity would you expect under those circumstances? Even for youth orchestras where the kids are struggling to play the notes, lots of effort goes into the intangibles of interpretation. No I really do not believe there are many musicians who just cannot "feel" the music. Most of the issues are proficiency. It is pretty hard to convey a feeling and mood, if merely playing is difficult.</p>

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<p>This reminds me of the old quote: "The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made."
I don't think that fluid playing means that the performer is necessarily "feeling" the music. I think there are all kinds of musicians with different talents and skill sets.</p>

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<p>Coming from the original poster here :)-</p>

<p>I don't agree with the author on the matter of sight reading/improv./et cetera, but I do agree that we all neeed to find our own way to "feel" the music.</p>

<p>Being in bands where everyone is in there due to pressures other than their own love has given me a realization, that is at tleast applicable to me, that if you don't have a personal connection to the music you're ability to play it will decrease. It won't sound as good. </p>

<p>There's no way I as a musician fit into the criteria the author gave. It's all just about figuring out why you really play. I've noticed those who love the music are better players than those who don't, regardless of natural abilities.</p>

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<p>Musicallylatin, Thanks for posting this article. I had some really good discussions today with some of my students because of it. I think you are closer to the truth than the author of the article is. </p>

<p>Music sounds different when it comes from somewhere inside the performer. I know what you mean by performers "putting in the time" versus those who live and breathe it. Often critics will praise youth orchestras for an enthusiasm that comes through despite their lower technical abilities - they haven't become jaded; it hasn't become just a job for them. </p>

<p>I am having a recital on Sunday -- Ten of my students, all beginners. I think we are going to hear some very bad performances, but tucked in among the wrong notes and faltering rhythms, I believe we will hear a spark of real music now and then. </p>

<p>I have an 8 year old student who has been playing for exactly 5 weeks. He started begging for piano lessons a couple years ago, but his family didn't have a piano. This fall he had finally saved enough to buy his own. I've never had an 8-year-old student who bought his own piano before! He is going to play *Jolly Old St. Nicholas * on Sunday. He is so excited, I hope he can stay on the piano stool. He came in yesterday and showed me that he "discovered" that seconds sound "really bad" but thirds sound "really good."</p>

<p>With most of my students, I allowed them to pick which holiday song they wanted to play. My youngest student is 6. When I asked her for her favorite, I had barely gotten my words out when she blurted, "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." (For reference, almost every other student initially says either Jingle Bells or Rudolph.) I had to write out a version simple enough for her to learn, and insert an early lesson in B-flats. Every single time she plays this piece, she glows. She darts sidelong glances at me, looking for approval, she forgets to keep her fingers down, and her feet tend to dance as she plays. She sparkles. It is absolutely beautiful to watch. </p>

<p>The first "artistry" piece in the books is called "Shining Stars." This same six year old learned this piece, and drew a picture to show me what she was trying to illustrate with her playing. (It looks like fireworks. It hangs on the wall of my living room.) On the other hand, the 8-year-old, after my explanation of artistry, started to sightread the same piece. He stopped about 5 bars into it and deadpanned, "It ain't workin' for me." Both children "get it." They understand that music is communicating something other than notes on a page.</p>

<p>I could go on. Each student has different strengths and weaknesses. Some who read well, others who have great ears, a rare one or two who are strong in both. I try very hard not to draw boxes around them or define them by artificial standards. They are all making music.</p>

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<p>I'm not an amazing player. I'm pretty poor at the technical things. Especially since, although it sounds horrible, I don't "have the time" to put towards my instrument. I play tuba, so I either have to come in early or stay late and unfortunatly it's a hard thing for me to do, but honesetly I think I'd learned from it than anyone else in the band. If you really want to play you'll find a way. </p>

<p>For me the reason I've chosen to keep with tuba, regardless of my 5' 3" female height, is because with the tuba it's a "physical" instrument. Because I'm so much smaller than the average tuba player I have to use more of my lungs, so not only do I figuratively "feel the music" I also literally, and I love that sensation. It's kind of like being barefoot and holding a baloon during a concert. </p>

<p>One of the funniest musician moments I had the other day was I was very angry and I realized that instead of counting to ten I had started to count in four four time. I started laughing. I do the same when I run. I have to count in either three four time or four four time otherwise I can't run very well. It's odd how music begins to encompas every aspect of our lives it we're open to it.</p>

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<p>Careful. Running in 3/4 time either results in hemiolas or hematomas. Sometimes both.</p>

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<p>^ And I thought a hemiola was a viola on steroids. Little do I know.</p>

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<p>I fully agree with Binx on this one. Music is important for everyone. If more people believed that in the United States, we would have much better attendance (like in Europe) and better support for the fine arts...ok...off my soapbox.</p>

<p>Now...having said that, I'd like to add....I'm a singer and before a note ever comes out of my mouth, I "think" through the music while looking at the sheet. However, I think that is something that some folks can easily do and something others cannot do. I do not think it is the "hallmark" of a better musician.</p>

<p>Agreed...the best musicianship is from those who are able to do more with that music than play the notes on the page.</p>

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<p>Agreed.
I also think it's not just an appreciation for music that is needed but a basic knowledge of it. If only a music credit were required to graduate from high school. Too bad that would never work in a basic public high school.</p>

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<p>I have a delema that is related to the topic. I am in a band with a bunch of amazing players. everyone feels the music and gets into it. You can tell by the dynamics in their playing, and the energy they get out of there instriment.</p>

<p>But our lead guitarist dosent have it. His playing style is dull. There is no balls behind it, Its just chords and scales with no energy coming from him. We play a wide variety of music from slow songs to dance tunes and every chord and note he plays has the same energy as the last. He stands there like a statue when he playes becasue he is “afraid to mess up”.</p>

<p>My problem is that we all have touched on the subject here and there with him and he sayes that he all he does is feel the music when he is playing it. He is a really nice guy and I dont want to crush him by being blunt and saying “dude you cant feel it your a hack, can we try to get you to fake it, and memorize the dynamics of a song”.</p>

<p>How can someone “learn” to feel it? I have been around music all my life and it boggles my mind when I see what I call “studio musicians”.</p>

<p>sorry about the run on sentances, spelling and bad grammer.</p>

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<p>Rockman, I wish I could give advice on your question, but I myself am definitely not qualified to give advice on bands or music.</p>

<p>I do, however, want to bring up a story that is true, and relates to my past opinion about music in a public school system. In this story, I am a parent, and at the time had a very talented musician daughter that was a junior. (She’s now in College, following her music passion. Most that have heard her play would say she definitely feels the music.) My daughter was involved in all kinds of musical activities: directing an a cappella group, singing in various select choruses, singing in musicals, playing her own gigs and in bands, writing new music, winning recognition for music, etc. </p>

<p>At one of the music festivals, I got into a conversation with the choral director about the select chorus. Now mind you, he and I are very close, so we both felt very comfortable expressing our views. My opinion at the time was that he was not being selective enough in picking members for that chorus, and as a result, the quality level of the performances were not as high, and in my opinion reflected poorly on the better musicians. The choral director was patient but offended (as he should have been) that I thought the more complex music should be withheld from students that were enthusiastic about being part of the group. He explained that kids like my daughter would find other avenues to push themselves in music. He explained that other students without as much talent should be in the group because they will eventually become music appreciators, even if they didn’t evolve into professional performers. These students, given the right information and experiences, will grow to love music, or love it more, and in their futures will be listening to more complex pieces, attending concerts, participating in community and church music, and maybe even buying music. </p>

<p>I told him at the time that I heard what he was saying, but I didn’t quite agree yet. As I saw him in the next weeks and months, we would continue the conversation. By the next year, it was clear to me that my daughter would continue to learn new music, to push herself, and to self select other musicians for non-school gigs. She found a way to enjoy music at a rate and pace that worked for her. She also helped her a cappella group learn some wonderful songs, and the group sounded terrific. In the meantime, in this group of students that were in the select chorus (but that I didn’t think were select enough), a few of these students really changed. Two of them took some private voice lessons and really took off. Others just got better and new members joined as well. </p>

<p>My son also because a freshman and joined a few choruses. He didn’t have the same interest in music as my daughter, so his knowledge was limited, but his voice was good. He was inspired by other guys in the group, and really came to enjoy participating in singing these complex choral songs. He wasn’t a soloist or the star, he was just another solid member of a terrific group of kids. Over his freshman year, he started to get more serious about his electric bass playing, and even played in an open mic. He starting downloading all kinds of different music to his iPod and would discuss intricate details of the songs with my husband and daughter and anyone else that would listen. </p>

<p>By the time my daughter was winding down her high school career, I saw hundreds of open mic performances, 20 or more choral concerts, and several recitals, and I came to appreciate the process of learning music in a completely new way. My daughter was well on her way to something, and my son and other kids like him could really appreciate and communicate the language of music. They were not the stars or the soloists, but they had transformed into lovers of all kinds of music. When I spoke to the choral director a month or so before my daughter’s graduation, I walked up to him and told him that he was right. He was right because if he hadn’t included some of those students into the select chorus, he could have squashed their growth. By having them there, their enthusiasm helped push the group. The group wasn’t trying to be the best group in the county, but instead, a group that developed together to learn and grow in the world of music. He said that he knew I would come around, but he needed me to see it for myself. Well I did, and every time I see him I thank him for his patience with parents like me, because he also helped me to appreciate music differently as well. I can only feel the music when it is played by special musicians, and I don’t have the skills or time to play any one instrument well enough to get close to feeling it while playing, but when I hear it being played LIVE and from the soul, I grab a tissue and sit back and enjoy.</p>

16

<p>First of all, what a wonderful quote, binx.
Secondly - “if you can’t feel the music, keep trying to play it until you get it!”
How many times have you seen someone who is not enthusiastic about the piece they are playing finally “get” it? You get it by working at it and trying to understand it. I know two piano players - one loves 20th century literature, one dislikes it. One loves Baroque and the other finds it boring. They are both very musical but have different innate affinities for different styles. But if they work on all their pieces, both the ones they love and the ones they find harder to grasp, who knows, the one that hates Contemporary era music may love it next year! Young and old, we all grow and the way to “get” music is to play it!</p>