The Art of Effective Practice (Part 1)

When I first became interested in music, it was like being presented with these enormous sonic structures full of moving parts that I was desperate to understand. And it didn’t really matter if I was listening to Mahler or Stravinsky or Coltrane or Bill Evans. Or anything at all really. My mind was just blown. I wanted to know everything about everything. And the thought of learning about it just seemed overwhelming.

Perhaps the first question I had about music (admittedly from a somewhat naive viewpoint) was: how does it actually work? In some ways of course, this is not at all the right question to ask. It is simply just what first occurred to me. At the same time it was bound up with all kinds of other questions. Like why does a composer or an improvisor choose some particular notes to follow others? What exactly is it that underlies this often unconscious decision process? How and why do all these sounds blend together? Why is any piece of music conceived in the way it is? What exactly is the impetus that underlies these processes?

In retrospect, I feel like there were really two questions I was grappling with. The first asked how music worked. And the second was perhaps more challenging. It asked about what I should practice and learn in order to develop this understanding. So after practicing all kinds of things and working on different aspects of music over many years, the purpose of this article is to outline some thoughts on what has helped most.

I have broken this article in three parts. It is just ended up being super long. So here is first three important takeaways about the effective practice of music. And I must say from reading the final version of this, I feel like there is certainly a little repetition here. But that is the nature of music, the things you work on just fall into each other and merge and become one big thing.

Practice tip 1:

Make a list of things you would like to learn about music. Don’t panic about the time it takes. Accept that the list will change as you change. This is a lifelong journey and that is ok.

It is worth reflecting on the different kinds of skills you might want to develop if you would like to study music. Because there are all kinds of possibilities. For example, are you moved to learn an instrument? And if so, do you want to go really deeply into this process, it is about developing virtuosic mastery? Or is it instead that you would like to be able to play an instrument to a level where you could grab hold of any kind of sheet music and play it, so you can enjoy working through some repertoire that appeals to you? And when you play music, is it a solitary endeavour? Or would you rather play music in ensembles or in bands? It is about seeking out the social connections that music affords? Or maybe you would you prefer to compose music? And what kind of composing would you like to do? Songs? Symphonic compositions? Do you want to create music that is played in concert halls? Do you want to conduct music played in concert halls? Or maybe you are interested in writing music for film or games or something else.

My point being that there are just endless directions to explore in your studies. And on any of these directions you could easily spend a lifetime. So it is worth spending a little time thinking about what are the things that draw you to your study of music, and be ok that this will likely change over time.

When I first wanted to study music in a more formal way, I was not at all sure where to start. My parents noticed I was interested and signed me up for piano lessons. In retrospect, for me at least, I think this was probably a great place to start. I just enjoyed it, I liked the routine that seemed suited to my style of learning. An so soon I started learning all these different pieces of music, working through those piano exams each year, working on my technique and drills, lots of Schmitt, lots of Czerny.

Undertaking that kind curriculum lead in a fairly natural way to learning more about some aspects of the theory of music. I become interested in four-part harmony, counterpoint, and harmonic analysis. I started learning about how to write in different styles, tackling things like inventions and fugues. This pulled me away from studying the instrument more and to sitting at a desk, writing out exercises, trying to hear things in my head. And this led to being much more interested in larger musical forms and orchestral music. So then I wanted to learn about all those different clefs, all those transposing instruments, so I could read orchestral scores. I remember this being just so incredibly difficult to learn and it seemed to take a long time before orchestral scores started looking even a little simpler.

Interestingly, this process didn’t really address my burning question as to how music works. But it it did give a me a sense that it was not really the right question to pose perhaps, and at the same time it was exciting to be up close and personal with the decisions composers made as they created music. And then, just as I was becoming ever engulfed in all this, I started getting into jazz. Which changed everything, even my choice of instrument. And led to all kinds of other things, different ways to think about harmony and rhythm and melody. And so my endless to do list of things I wanted lean just kept on evolving.

And when I reflect on it now, it is worth noting how each of things of my giant study list has led to all kinds of valuable insights. Studying Chopin changed the way I think about voice leading in jazz harmony and improvisation. Studying Lee Konitz solos changed my whole concept of melody. Studying Charlie Parker and Gary Peacock solos changed the way I understand rhythm. The endless study just all adds up to a life of amazing musical experiences. So you should just keep going with it all and let it evolve.

Practice tip 2:

Carry out your study of music in a way that exposes you to different music. Be bold and follow all the threads. And when you find those musical threads, listen actively. Make this a part of your practice.

When you are learning an instrument, one thing that tends to happen is you come across lots of different repertoire for the first time. So if you are learning classical piano you will probably find yourself working on Bach at some point. Or maybe Mozart. Or Brahms. And Scarlatti always tends to turn up too, not sure what that is about! My first piano teacher was completely obsessed by Bartok’s Mikrokosmos! So this was all we did, week in and week out, for months on end. And so over time all of this let me hear new things, different approaches to tonality and form and melody. It helped to develop a sense of what resonated personally with me, sending me down all kinds of unexpected and rewarding pathways.

It has also led to a life long love of so much music. For example, when I was I was a teenager during my study of piano, I had to learn a Debussy prelude, the first one in cycle I think. And I just found it so intriguing, there was something about his subtle approach to harmony. And this led to listening to a lot of other music by Debussy such as his orchestral music and his well known string quartet. And that led to hearing Ravel (around the time I became obsessed with orchestration). And pretty soon I was ensconced in the whole history of French orchestral music, hearing composers like Faure and Koechlin and Messiaen and Boulanger and Dutilluex. A similar thing happened when I happened to study a Shostakovich fugue. It dropped me into exciting period of musical history, leading to an exploration of Rimsky-Korsakov, Tchaikovsky, Scriabin, Prokofiev and Kasputin. And later on, when I started playing a lot more jazz, my first jazz guitar teacher shared the music of Allan Holdsworth and John McLaughlin with me. It changed everything again, opening up new sounds from all kinds of different musical traditions. It is important to let it all in and find what moves you.

Exploring and actively listening is a vital part of your practice. Like when you listen to music, you should know where you are in it. Get hold of the score, read along with the recording, make a note of those modulations and instrumental changes and hear them as you read the notes. Know the sounds of different progressions and modulations. Put ten different versions of Autumn leaves on repeat from different improvisors and listen to them, knowing where you are in the form, in the bar. Consciously note the different approaches being taken to different versions of the same piece. One of my teachers once told me that so much effective practice can be done away from the instrument, just by listening. For example, if you are learning the jazz standard All The Things You Are, don’t just learn it and try and remember the chords. Like check out how Pat Metheny plays it. Or what about Keith Jarrett? Or Brad Mehldau? Or Jim Hall or John Abercrombie or Charlie Parker? And then transcribe the solos and substitutions they use. Actively and strategically listen as part of your practice.

This kind of listening can get quite deep too. A little while ago I was listening to this amazing album by Chris Potter called Circuits. Absolutely phenomenal from start to end. But to really get a lot of out it, it certainly wasn’t enough just to have it on in the background. I had to spend some time learning the songs, understanding all those time signature changes. The pieces were sometimes in 5/4, sometimes in 15/8, sometimes a real mixture of 6/8 and 3/4. With super complicated rhythmic figures, often hard to hear the one in the bar. But spending some time and consciously counting the bars while listening opened up so many amazing facets of the album. It was also hugely helpful for hearing complicated time in music and heavy syncopation. Remember that even as a listener, you can set yourself up to be a highly active participant in the music and the more you do this, the greater your understanding of music will be, and the more you can get out of it.

Practice tip 3:

Seek out great teachers. And know that you have the capacity to be your greatest teacher.

So how does music work? What has been so interesting about that question that I wanted an answer to so long ago is that, over the years, it has mattered less and less. Because what tends to happen is that your consciousness somehow develops an understanding of music that can’t be verbalised, a kind of sixth sense of what notes are appropriate when. This seems like a long and mysterious process. And strangely, the further you get into it, the less important clarifying the meaning of it all becomes.

In recent years I have been struck by how strange it is to have no idea which notes you might be playing or composing, and a sense that each note is just a response to the note that came before it, or maybe an appropriate complement to some note that is occurring at the the same time. From studying music, my hearing and playing seems to have evolved to a point where anything I play just flows through as a possibility to be explored. My ears and motor coordination have somehow become attuned to this strange phenomena. It is more about learning a way of being rather than answering a question. And during this process, it has also struck me how much I have become my own teacher and my own guide when it comes to music. It is important to know that when you study anything, you are at the same time studying yourself and your relationship with that thing. So any lifetime of study will manifest a certain individual sense of taste, and help develop an ability to navigate one’s personal musical possibilities. Don’t just study, pay attention to yourself as a teacher who is always acquiring more knowledge.

But at the same time, seek out great teachers. Learning anything in life is so much better if you have amazing teachers. I have had different teachers over the years and felt they they have all bought something critical to my learning. Some have been practical. My first piano teacher said I was just a little too lazy and so she sent me to her teacher, who was super scary. If I didn’t practice she would just sit quietly and wait for me to practice. One hour lessons merged into four hours or more! But I certainly got a lot out of it.

Overall, I have had amazing teachers who have been incredibly generous with their time and knowledge. I first studied guitar back in the nineties and the guitarist who just happened to work in the local guitar music store was Carl Orr. He went on to make some beautiful records, and recorded this amazing Billy Cobham record which I just love so much. He gave so much of his time so generously, and we had long discussions about all aspects of music and harmony, and how to use music as a way to create and share energy, almost a kind of philosophy of music. What an amazing first teacher for jazz! And he also kicked my ass to make sure I could sight read and get all the basics down. Later on I was lucky enough to have another amazing teacher, an Australian guitarist, Dave Smith. It always felt like he was from a different planet where all they did was jazz guitar or something. He showed me the importance of precision in improvised music, where every note must be carefully placed just as if you were composing, and you needed to hear at this level. Through him I discovered Eric Dolphy, Jack Wilkins, John Abercrombie, John Coltrane, Lennie Tristano and all kinds of other amazing music. I remember one day he played a third inversion13flat9 dominant voicing and said to me that, right now, that sound might be a little dissonant, but I would come to love it. That was so true!

Ok, that is enough for this post! Will leave the it to the next article.