First published in Victory Review, September 2000.
Each of us musicians has his or her own demon, some musical bit of business
that we've been avoiding for years, some Achilles heel or blind spot
or embarrassing truth that we try to keep out of the public eye, that
we constantly must work around in our musical lives yet never face head-on.
My bugaboo was sight-reading. For years, I'd got by on the strength
of my highly developed ear, my chops, my versatility, my working knowledge
of theory. But I had a phobia about sight-reading, much like some people's
fear of math or car repair or finances. I was a fluent "speaker"
of a language that I could barely read. When I did try to work on it,
I was too proud to play "kiddie" music and instead tried to
read pieces that were far too advanced for me (Gershwin's "Rhapsody
in Blue" is a particularly grandiose example). As you might expect,
I just ended up feeling frustrated, embarrassed, and even more convinced
that I'd never learn to sight-read. It became my demon, my dark secret,
a curse that I carried with me for years, even after I graduated summa
cum laude with a B.A. in jazz piano.
In order to finally face my demon, I had to literally start at the beginning.
I had to read pieces that were very simple, childishly easy, even embarrassing
to play. I had to take my time. I had to let myself make mistakes. I had
to give myself the patience that I now give my own students. I had to
work at it every day. For a musician with years of experience, a high
level of ability, an over-reliance on his ear and his wits, and a deep-seated
fear of failure, this was not easy. But going through that process was
(and continues to be) one of the best things I ever did for myself, both
as a musician and as a person. It's difficult to describe the joy
I've felt as I read a piece of music that once would have completely
intimidated me.
Perhaps you have a demon of your own. Perhaps, like mine, it's sight-reading.
Or perhaps your demon is the exact opposite, and you feel unable to play
by ear. Or perhaps it's rhythm. Or singing, or theory, or ear training,
or improvising. Whatever it is, I invite you to look at the ways in which
your own fears and self-images limit you.
A student of mine recently said, "I have terrible rhythm."
Such statements are more about belief than fact, and have the effect of
prophecy if we repeat them often enough. "I have a tin ear."
"I'm just no good with theory." "I'll never be
able to play by ear." Listen to the pronouncements and prophecies
playing in your head, and notice how they wall off entire areas of music-making
that you long to explore.
This is the real power of the demon, that we give in to the fear and
judgment and shame. We become convinced there must be something wrong
with us, that we can't do these things that others find so easy.
We must not be such good musicians after all, if we can't do ________
(your demon here).
None of which is true. You are not fundamentally flawed. There is no
missing ingredient that everyone has but you. There's no "magic"
you don't possess. Yes, some people are more obviously talented than
others, but the skills of musicianship are very democratic. With time
and patience, they can be mastered. You needn't be a genius to read
music, pick out a tune by ear, or keep a beat. It only seems to come easily
to everyone else because you haven't gone through all the little
steps they went through to master that skill. But you can. You just need
time and patience.
Patience is especially important if you've already played music for years.
You must let yourself be a beginner again. Begin at the beginning, where
everyone else did. Don't try to defeat the demon all at once, in
one grandiose assault. Take it slowly, step by step. Practice every day.
Watch as you gradually master that skill. Watch as the demon loses its
power, as you gain confidence, as you learn to do something that you once
believed impossible. You can work with a teacher to guide and support
you, or you can do it alone — whatever best meet your needs. And just
in case you missed it the first time, I'll say it again — practice
every day.
Don't listen to the demon any more. It tells lies. You can do that
thing the demon says you can't do. Don't listen. Just be patient,
have faith, and try.
Copyright 2000 by Richard Middleton.
All rights reserved.
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Richard Middleton is a songwriter, musician, teacher, and writer based in Seattle. He is the author of
"Reading Rhythm" (Countersine 2018).