We talked about defining “right” and of playing “perfectly”.  One of the problems with so many definitions of right is that they can blind us to the Beauty of Error.

If every time you have a variant note you make a “lemon face” you might miss what could be right in front of you. When you play something that isn’t “right” you haven’t played something wrong.  Instead, you’ve played something different.  Something you didn’t intend.  Something you hadn’t thought of.  Something you hadn’t seen before.  The caveat is we are not talking about when you begin to learn the tune – it is important to know the melody.  But after you have that learned…

In those times you inadvertently play something you hadn’t planned, you open a big door of possibility.  The question is, will you go through?  Or will you slam it shut?  (You know which one I think you should do!)

Because these variations could be serendipitous.  Some of them will work ok.  Others – meh, not so much.  And some won’t work at all, no matter how much lipstick you pile on them. 

But some of them will just explode into an amazing array of new sounds, new thoughts, new textures.  Like a prism bends light, your new find might bend your entire perception of the tune.

Others will explode in another way – shining a light on a new way to look at the tune.  Or click something in your mind that changes how you look at some other, completely unrelated tune.  You might find a new interval combination you hadn’t noticed before.  Or you might find some new rhythm twist that you hadn’t thought possible (or hadn’t thought, period).

This is especially true when we’re working harmony or improvisation – because there are no wrong notes.  There are combinations that may be less satisfying than others.  We might have created a sound environment that does not match our original intention.  But each of those has its beauty – even the discordant options -as long as we are willing to hear it. 

Funny thing about sound – once you make it, it’s gone relatively quickly.  So, even if you lay out a stinker, it doesn’t last. In fact, before you can even examine it, it’s gone!  That tempus is fugit-ing which makes those sounds hard to hang on to. 

So how do we become more appreciative of these unintended consequences?  How do we find the Beauty of Error?  Honestly, you already know –

Practice.  No really – the more you allow these variances to occur, the less they take you by surprise and discombobulate you.  Practice not stopping for every little blip.  Get in the habit of paying attention while you play so you hear them as they happen, not belatedly.  Record yourself to be sure you’re not making lemon face, or rolling your eyes, or any of the other things that telegraph to your audience that things might not be going quite to plan!  All easier when you’ve practiced it!

Boldly go.  Specifically set practice time to explore the sound space around your tune.  Specifically violate the carefully set arrangement you have built.  Challenge your assumptions.  Challenge yourself.   Throw open that door to the unknown and fling yourself through it.  What’s the worst that can happen?  Be kind to yourself – this is what practice time is for!

Capture, review, learn, iterate.  As part of that practice, make the sounds just a little less ephemeral and capture your work.  Record your noodling.  I just use an voice memo app on my phone.  It’s no Deutsche Grammophon but it’s clear enough for me to sort through.  I have loads of little snippets.  Then I go through them and mark in a notebook what’s wheat, what’s chaff, what’s just garbage.  When I’m done, I d-e-l-e-t-e them – like they never existed.  All my secret bombs are gone – *poof* – the sweet gems remain, and no one’s the wiser.

Stop chasing perfection.  We have already talked about how perfection is overrated.  If your listener wanted perfection, they’d get a cd.

Did I mention practice? This doesn’t come overnight.  Nothing about becoming a better musician does.  You just keep practicing – hearing things you didn’t expect, gliding on past like a swan, filing away the sparkly ones – the more you do it, the easier it becomes.   

What beautiful errors have you had lately?  Do you have other ways of cracking that nut and seeing the beauty in the errors?  Have you set aside time for finding them?  Let me know in the comments!

Are you a perfectionist?  When practicing, is your sole intention to “get it right”?  To make no errors?  Is your focus on defeating the old saying, “to err is human”?

Are you making yourself miserable chasing perfection in your playing?

Now, don’t get me wrong, it is important to “get it right” – but let’s think about how we’ve defined “right”.  And no, it’s not a simple or easy question.   There can be multiple, varied definitions.  Here are some:

1. The Copier Definition – the tune is right when it is played exactly, invariantly, as written, with no errors (sometimes known as the “if I don’t execute every element perfectly*, my teacher is going to think I didn’t practice” definition).
2. The Plan Definition – the tune is right when absolutely nothing is missed, there is no deviation from the plan. There are no errors. Ever.
3. The Communication Definition – the tune is right when your audience heard the story you were telling and felt the emotions you were trying to convey. There might have been some deviations in some notes, but they got the point.

You can probably guess which definition I prefer.  Is one of these definitions the “right” one (see what I did there?)?

No.

But some are more useful at times than others are.  When do you want to use which one?

The Copier definition is especially useful when you are learning a tune.  After all, if you don’t know the basic elements of the tune, do you know it and will you be able play it?  Pr’oly not.  This definition certainly gives you a solid foundation from which to play.  The focus on securing the notes, the rhythm, and phrasing will help cement the tune in your head.  But if you stop there, you have stunted your musical growth.  And then you will probably get stuck in the Plan. 

The Plan definition is to just stick to the plan.  Play what you practiced but do not make any changes.  This is a cold and unfeeling place from which to make sounds, but not really music. 

One thing the Copier or the Plan don’t include is sharing a message with someone else.  They can both result in emotionless, mechanical playing that leaves the listener feeling like they have heard a robot playing.  Technically correct yet not quite satisfying.

Because music is a form of communication.  And the purpose of communication is, well, to communicate!  To share an idea, to build a relationship (no matter how brief), to interact with other humans. 

The Copier and the Plan are all about you, not your audience (and remember, even the cat and the curtains enjoy your musical conversations – they want to hear from you).  This is about holding dominion over – and defeating – the music.    

So, the Communication Definition.  This is the only of these definitions that is outside you, that includes an audience.  The focus is on sharing.  Note production is important – but only in service to the message.  The tune is “right” when the recipient understands what you meant to convey.  The Communication definition is appropriate when you have learned the tune and are ready to actually play it (rather than beating it to death in practice). 

So, what is your definition of “right”?  And how do you move between them as you develop and practice your repertoire?  And what do you do with your mistakes?  Let’s get back to Alexander Pope and his thought, because we often forget the rest of it.  He wrote,

“To err is human, to forgive, divine.”

Now, do not take this as carte blanche to be sloppy.  You still need to have the tune so you can play it.  But you can be forgiving of your work, your attempts to learn, your progress as you move toward gaining the tune for your repertoire.  Being forgiving is not equivalent to being slack.

As you are practicing, as you move between the definitions during your tune development, remember that you will make errors and that they are not the end of the world.  Next week, we’ll talk about how they can be just the beginning!

What is your definition of “right”?  Has any of this changed your mind?  What kind of errors do you find the most unforgivable?  Let me know in the comments.

*perfectly – whatever that means