Klarinet Archive - Posting 000312.txt from 1995/06

From: Neil Leupold <Neil_Leupold@-----.COM>
Subj: Nichelle Crocker's frustrat
Date: Thu, 15 Jun 1995 15:00:56 -0400

ntouch Memo 06/15/95
Subject:Nichelle Crocker's frustration 11:03 AM
Nichelle Crocker wrote:

"There are times when these things need to be expressed in words by our
teachers. Some musicians seem to rely on instinct and natural ability fairly
heavily. It may be helpful on stage, but not as a teaching technique.
Teachers need to have the vocabulary to be able to describe, explain, and
demonstrate any technique they expect their student to acquire. I have very
strong feelings about this."

Thanks for making this statement. I too have very strong feelings about this,
entirely congruous with your own. Over the years, I have received nothing but
grief from my teacher for demanding that he explain analytically the skill(s)
I'm being expected to develop. As a "growing" musician, I consider myself
continuously from two perspectives: 1) a future performer in a major symphony
orchestra; and 2) a future private teacher or university professor. These two
roles are on opposite sides of the fence, so to speak. I feel a great deal of
responsibility in the knowledge that I will eventually be called upon, in my
role as a teacher, to effectively articulate my understanding of any and all
aspects of my technique as a clarinetist. Granted, there are certain things
that simply cannot be taught (no such thing as an ingestible "talent" pill),
but to the extent that I am able, I take it upon myself to mentally catalogue
the learning process, such that I may eventually convey my knowledge from an
academic standpoint to any student who is ready to learn.

In addition to the "weight of the future" feeling, there's also another reason
for being able to lucidly articulate how I achieve the technical and musical
results that I do. I think perhaps it goes without saying that one true mark
of a virtuoso is _consistency_. One of the reasons players like Karl Leister,
David Shiffrin, and Sabine Meyer are so highly revered is that they play and
perform at such a consistently high level - both technically, as well as
musically. A permanent inability to reliably duplicate any and all given
technical and musical devices automatically relegates a player to perpetual
mediocrity. As Nichelle Points out, some people rely heavily, if not
exclusively, upon raw talent and instinct, to effect the musical results of
which they are capable. That's great, as long as they are never called upon to
teach what they do. Julius Baker (legendary flautist) is a perfect example of
this. As a teacher, he taught almost entirely by example, rarely if ever
attempting to explain his technique verbally. One of his students, having
studied with him for a few years, is now the principal player of the Atlanta
Symphony. Maybe she is a stronger person for Baker's inability to articulate
his abilities verbally - or maybe she was/is also possessed of such a natural
affinity for technique and musicality that explanation was unnecessary. In a
sense, I guess it depends very much upon the characteristics of both the
teacher and the student. A unique approach is necessary for each student who
walks in the door.

As in all things, I believe that striking a balance between the art's
fundamental components is the most desirable methodology, and that is how I
approach it. Some days are harder than others. My life does not operate on
the Norman Rockwell principal, and there are periods when I experience
something akin to partial brain infarction, wherein I've inexplicably
"forgotten" how to do something as basic as, say, articulate lightly from the
tip of the tongue to the tip of the reed. For years it has come totally
naturally to me and has been a cornerstone of several other subordinate aspects
of my playing. But I had a bad day, or a bad couple of YEARS, and suddenly I
can no longer do it on command. I've "lost" the natural sensation which told
me that I was doing it correctly and can no longer rely upon instinct to guide
me. Now what? I fall back upon my understanding of it on an academic level.
I remember learning how to do it "way back when". My ultimate goal is to
rekindle the physical sensation which informs me that I'm executing it
properly. It's like a diagnostic analysis:

* Am I breathing deeply from the diaphragm?
* Is the embouchure properly formed?
* Am I forming the proper vowel sound in order to effect the correct tongue
shape?

...and so on. So depending upon the circumstances of my life at any given
time, I must balance my instinctive approach with an acadmic one in order
"cover my bases", as it were. If I had learned everything entirely by "feel",
I would be mercilessly in the dark, left with little choice but to wait and
hope that the sensation would return in time for tonight's concert.

How do others of you approach this dynamic?

- Neil

   
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