One of the first things I did when I started learning guitar was buy a full-length mirror so I could monitor my posture and my hands. It was helpful at first, but lately I realized I’ve been using the mirror as a crutch.
This was clear at my last lesson, where there is no mirror, when I had trouble hitting the right strings and keeping my tone consistent at faster tempos without being able to see my fingers. Relying on the mirror had made my ears and fingertips lazy.
So tonight I practiced a piece slowly without the mirror and wow, it was like starting at the beginning again. Without my eyes to help me find the right chords and notes, I had to rely much more on my ears, sense of touch, and body awareness to navigate. I felt like I was in a dark room bumping into furniture. That’s actually a good analogy because the first few times, you collide with everything and then later you don’t because you sense where everything is located without needing to see it.
It’s a struggle, but I know I’m heading in the right direction. This is a perfect example of moving backward in my practice to move forward. I sound a lot worse now that I don’t have my eyes to help me, but it’s the only way to develop better ears and fingers. No struggle, no learning.
I had my first classical guitar lesson a few days ago and wow, is this going to be demanding (in a good way)!
Unlike my online group lesson teacher, my private teacher doesn’t take a sequential approach (making people learn technique first before learning songs and reading music). Instead, he tosses students in all at once and continually refines their technique and musicianship as they progress. He explained that when he was teaching classical guitar at a university, his students had juries every 12 weeks, so he had to find efficient ways to teach and prepare them.
So he pulled out my Prep Level book (mind you, this is a pre-Grade 1 book), got a sense of my music background (Yes, I can read music. Yes, I know the names of the strings. No, I don’t know where the notes are on the fretboard unless I spend a few seconds figuring out each one), then selected a simple piece and asked me to play it.
Did I mention that I don’t know where the notes are on the fretboard? Between notes, this was my brain:
Thanks to my online teacher, my technique was not catastrophically awful and my private teacher made some excellent suggestions and adjustments, but I was definitely flailing in the deep end. When I mentioned this, he said, “Yes, I tossed you in the deep end, but I won’t let you drown.” I’m glad I record my lessons because I’m holding him to that!
I can definitely see the strenghs of my private lesson teacher’s approach. After only a few days, I’m a bit more confident about what notes are on which string. I’ve learned how to plan ahead for the next note or chord as I play the current one. Most importantly, I’m learning how to be more comfortable paying attention to multiple things during my practice and being okay with how intensely laborious this is.
After my private lesson, I decided to discontinue my online group lessons on my acoustic guitar and return to Guitar Tricks to work on non-classical guitar at my own pace. The online lessons were valuable for learning proper biomechanics, but I don’t need help learning how to build a major scale or identify intervals–I can do that already. For technique issues, my private teacher can pick up where my online teacher left off and do a better job since he’s watching me in person, not through a screen.
On a slightly different topic, I’m tracking my deliberate practice hours in my blog’s sidebar just for fun. I’m only counting focused practice time, not lessons or other supporting activities (all are important, but I’m too lazy to weight those hours according to their importance). No, my goal is not to reach the mythical 10,000 hours. The 10,000 hour “rule” is too simplistic and often misinterpreted, but it does highlight that being good at anything requires massive amounts of focused work. Anders Ericsson’s research pointed out that the practice quality, not just quantity, made a difference. Also note that the violinists he studied, who had put in roughtly 10,000 hours of practice, were students. Excellent students, yes, but not experts yet–they were only about halfway down that path, if that.
What I’m actually excited about is seeing the improvements along the way and the hours it took to make them happen. Where will I be after 1000, 5000, or more hours of practice? We’ll see.
I’ve been asking myself that a lot the past few weeks. I’m now learning fingerstyle on the guitar, and those steel strings are no joke. Rubbing my fingertips against metal wires again and again is not fun, but at least they’re starting to toughen up. My biggest challenge right now is getting my fingers to move independently without (1) changing the position of the other fingers, (2) changing the position of my hand, or (3) tensing my fingers, my hand, my arm, my shoulder, or any other part of me in the process. Whew, that’s a lot of work to stay relaxed!
My teacher has me slooooooowly moving each finger in the correct way without striking the string to get my muscles used to the sensation. then doing the same motion while lightly brushing the string so that my hand stays relaxed. This makes a lot of sense because when you push against a string, it will push back and the muscles need to tense a little to keep the string under control. The key, and the difficult part, is to introduce the minimum amount of muscle tension and also to release that tension once you let go of the string. Increasing the force gradually acclimates the muscles to stay as relaxed as possible.
The more I study, the more parallels I see between learning guitar and getting into shape. Both require gradual conditioning of the muscles before tackling bigger challenges. The muscles may be different sizes, but the framework is the same. So I keep practicing my reps with good form and celebrate the tiny improvements along the way.
I started working on lessons from Ukulele Corner Academy this past week and holy crap, learning fingerstyle playing is hard!
My current practice routine is focused on getting my right hand index and middle fingers coordinated enough to “sweep” (not “pick”) the strings with a clear, even tone and coordinate those movements with the C major scale and the chromatic scale. My guitar lessons have helped with the initial training in keeping my left hand fingers low and close to the fretboard, but it still takes a lot of concentration transferring that skill to the ukulele. I’m also cleaning up my chord changes in the more common keys (C major is pretty much drilled in my brain, G major needs work, and I haven’t even tackled F, A, or D major chord progressions yet).
I know I’ll be stuck on Grade 1, Unit 1 for a while, but I enjoy figuring out why I’m making mistakes, fixing them, and watching myself incrementally improve (is there any other kind of improvement?). My guitar teacher says that practice is a form of meditation, and perhaps that’s what draws me back to my practice space day after day.
My guitar teacher told me I’m trying to push my speed too much and not noticing and releasing the tension in my body between notes. That’s why I kept losing control of both my fingers and the pick. She said I was progressing fine on my lessons, but I needed to slow down and be sensitive to any feelings of discomfort, no matter how small, as I played. Then I realized–DUH, no wonder my left forearm was sore! It wasn’t just that I was practicing too long–it was also because I was practicing too intensely. All that muscle tension accumulated because I hadn’t trained my body enough to release it at faster tempos.
Today, I slowed my practice exercises way down, as in playing half notes at 80 BPM again, staying extra focused on keeping my left forearm muscles relaxed as much as possble and guess what? No soreness.
This isn’t the first time my ego got ahead of my body. I dealt with similar pain from playing ukulele, for exactly the same reasons. I’m apparently a slow learner.
I’d been proud of myself hitting 100 BPM at eighth notes on my exercises but I now know that “accomplishment” rested on a weak foundation, which came back to bite me. This happened when I played drums too, except now I know not only to slow down, but to really notice how every muscle in my body responds and make sure I play with ease before moving up the metronome.
Today was a good reminder that ego has no place in deliberate practice. I played my first note on a stringed instrument of any kind only 10 weeks ago. 5 weeks ago, I didn’t know how to hold a guitar pick, or even a guitar. I need to remember that these are just the first steps in a lifelong adventure. There’s no reason to rush the process, and in fact it’s better not to.