Book Review: The Creative Habit, Learn It and Use It for Life

Twyla Tharp calls her book “a practical guide” to tapping into what all great artists know: to increase your level of growth and potential for success you need to make your creative endeavors a habit.  This idea is nothing new (I don’t think any idea really is), but it is a very important one to revisit regularly.  Ms. Tharp uses her experiences as a long-time successful choreographer to help us understand how her creative habit unfolds daily and through projects, as well as shares with us the high and low points along the path of her art.

Yes, there are times in the book when her opinions are stated as facts, as well as times when an idea presented contradicts an earlier one.  I appreciate and understand what she is ultimately sharing, though, and enjoy taking a peek behind her creativity curtain.  Learning how other people “do” their lives is always fascinating and fruitful for me.  I love trying on other people’s ways of doing things and adding what works to my personal toolbox of life.

I recommend this book if, like me, you’re always looking for new ideas to help keep your creativity flowing.

Memorization: Part II

Memorizing anything is possible if you break it down into manageable pieces.  This post is Part II about the details of my working process.  Be sure to read first half: The Herculean Task of Memorizing a One-Woman Show to get a better understanding of my memorization toolbox.

Remember, time is your friend. Taking breaks is very important.  It allows the brain to sort and file and tidy up the neural connections that are being made with the practicing.  If my brain starts to feel exhausted while I am working I switch to a different task, either with music or something completely different.  (There are probably dishes to be washed… just saying.)  Also, physical exercise has been shown to increase cognitive functioning and the encoding of new skills.  Circulating the blood is good for so many things, so I do myself many favors and go for a walk.  There’s also one more important use of time that shouldn’t be forgotten.  Sleep.  Lots of cleaning up and organizing happens in the brain while we sleep, so as tempting as it is, I try not to short-change myself.

Feeling more confident?  By this time, the bits and pieces should be falling into place.  My next step is, pencil in hand, to take a neutral vowel and sing my pitches in rhythm with the accompaniment and test how far I am.  I absolutely will mark the questionable spots in my score.  I also take time around now to make a note of the time markers for major sections in the accompaniment recording so I can find them more quickly in the future. Writing in the time markers for the tricky spots is also very useful.

I’d be closer to adding the words now, but there’s another intermediate step that is useful.  Singing on just the vowels of the words.  I imagine my lips have superglue on them and there’s no way I want them to touch, but I still say the words “inside” my mouth.  This sounds silly, but it works.  All the rest of the articulation muscles move (including the tongue), but my lips just don’t touch.  Consonants can be such a temptation to cheat by not using helpful breath management muscles, so at this point in the process I keep temptation far away.

Success?  Now I’ll add in the words with the accompaniment.  This is where the fun level of vocal technique really gets to be teased apart.  This does not concern memorization of words as much as memorization of muscle coordination, which is also very important.  I look for places where my tonal resonance isn’t as strong and play detective to figure out the ins and outs of those details.  Consonants, where the pitches are in my register, as well as what precedes and follows, all have considerable contribution to this layer of muscle memory.

Erasable Highlighters.  Yep.  These are immensely helpful to me and deserve a special mention.  Once I feel I have a pretty good handle on everything, I’ll try it “off book” not looking at the score.  I’ll either hand the score to someone else to follow along, or I’ll record myself so I can listen back.  Any place that isn’t quite right will get highlighted with whatever color I’ve chosen for that time through.  The next time I do a major test, I’ll use a different color highlighter.  Where I start to see colors pile up, I know I have some major work to do.  The beauty is that I can easily erase colors when it’s all over or if things have just gotten too colorfully out of hand.  (NOTEIf you’d like to know more about these magical tools, I’ve written a “bonus” post that tells you more than you need to know about erasable highlighters.)

Polishing.  By the time the colors are adorning the score, it’s up to careful repetition and focusing on the trouble spots that continue to elude my brain.  Generally, inventing outlandish stories or finding quirky connections or out-there clues will help my brain put the last puzzle pieces in order.  Sometimes, though, by this point my brain is so overworked that it’s helpful to have a friend (or the music director) step in and offer a fresh perspective.  Usually they can help come up with an idea completely foreign to me since they have the ultimate viewpoint outside of the “picture frame” of my mindset.

Success of security.  By taking the piece and practicing it in various contexts and levels of distraction, I can help gain the comfort of knowing that my brain has a firm hold on all of the material.  In live performances, one can never be sure what might happen, and you don’t want every little jiggle to throw you off your game.  Arlington was performed in a large coffeehouse that was in a 100 year old building complete with lots of charm and challenges.  (The show was set in Sara Jane’s living room, and this space really felt like you were in her home.)  I moved around within the seated audience throughout the show and there was never a moment that I couldn’t have reached out and touched, or been touched, by someone.  At each performance my blocking (movement) was slightly different just because of how people ended up sitting.  Interestingly, this space was just a portion of the coffeehouse and the main areas were still open to customers.  Although luckily it didn’t happen often, unknowing customers could easily walk into the performance space in the middle of the show.

Memorization is a personal thing, and in the end you’ll need to experiment to see what works best for you.  There are lots of times when I need to memorize something short for one performance only, and I’m not nearly this thorough in the process.  I still want to feel secure, but I know that it’s not as crucial that everything stays in my brain for a long time.  We are lucky to be in this amazing age of research where brain and learning scientists have unlocked so much information that is infinitely helpful.  Why not use all of the tips and tricks to work smarter, not harder?  Performing has enough challenges on its own!

Happy Practicing!

The Herculean Task of Memorizing a One-Woman Show

Earlier this year I had the incredible experience of playing Sara Jane in the midwest premier of the musical Arlington, written by Polly Pen and Victor Lodato. This one-woman show is unique on many levels, but I’ve had the most questions about the memorization process and thought I’d share some of my experiences here.  (Note:  As I was writing this, I realized how gigantic this post was becoming, so I’ve split it up with some supplemental posts… be sure to follow the links!)

A little background on the show.  The performance time was about an hour, completely sung through.  There were a few moments of singing duets with the accompanist, but mostly it was just me singing with the piano.  Although it is essentially a tonal piece, there are very few instances to point to and say “that’s a song.”  Sara Jane makes it a point to tell the audience that although she sang when she was younger, she doesn’t sing songs anymore.  The musical is more like a sung-through monologue, with the piano accompaniment reflecting another layer of emotion.  Basically, the musical “cues” that typical song form offers aren’t there.  This aspect of composition raised the level of difficulty for memorizing this piece exponentially.

So, how did I do it?  When I’m beginning to learn anything, I imagine it as a fascinating object displayed on a shelf.  Beautiful, but I don’t really know much about it.  If I take it down and start to turn it, seeing and feeling and sensing it from all directions, I get to know it on more intimate terms.  I know that I’ll increase my success of understanding with the more variety of ways I can absorb the piece into my brain and body.

Baby steps. The first thing to know about memorizing anything is that time is your friend. Ideally, I’ll have the score far in advance so I can take all of the necessary steps to properly “tame” it.  In a perfect world, I will flirt with it a little.  I’ll take a listen to a recording once, then go away from it for a week.  Perhaps the next time I’ll pick up the score and just read through it casually.  I’ll go away for awhile again, then test myself by writing, speaking, or singing what I can remember from these brief interactions.  By testing the brain I’m telling it that I mean business.  I want it to really start paying attention the next time I pick up the music. After that brush with panic and realizing that I don’t actually remember much, I go to the score and start to look at it intentionally.  The brain will approach the task in a more focused way this time.

In a musical utopia I would also have gotten the accompaniment track from the music director by this point.  I’d start to split up my practice sessions independently between:

  • the words
  • the rhythms
  • the pitches

I keep these categories very separate at first so that my brain has a chance to get to know each aspect thoroughly and independently before layering them together.

Words.  For the words, I write or type out the entire show as a monologue in paragraph form.  At first the brain will complain that this (or any of the breaking-it-down steps) is a waste of time, and decidedly not as glamorous as just jumping into singing the words.  I find the fun in diving to the depths of a piece this way, though, and have always been well-rewarded.

Once the words are all laid out, I start working on the words as a spoken monologue.  I make it as much of a relaxed and conversational tone as I can so that it is easy to focus on the storytelling.  It’s also a great opportunity to pay close attention to the “mouth feel” of the words.  Speaking the text in slow motion is a useful way for the brain to avoid triggering autopilot habits and especially helpful to encourage the face/mouth muscles to pay close attention to what is happening.

Rhythms.  I go to the score and ignore the words and pitches and imagine myself as a percussionist.  I zero in on the rhythms of the melody and pay close attention to how they fit in with the accompaniment.  Now is when I start marking “anchors.”  For any spot that is tricky rhythmically, I look for reassurance markers in the accompaniment.  I draw a vertical line connecting my vocal line with the accompaniment to create a strong visual image to help me know that I’m on the right path.  I set a metronome to a slow tempo and go through the piece sounding the rhythm on a neutral syllable.  I mark where the problem spots are so I can isolate them and spend more time separately figuring them out.  I believe that writing in subdivisions of counts is a perfectly valid practice helper.

I gradually increase the metronome tempo until I am able to sound the rhythms at performance tempo.  Next, I’ll pull out the accompaniment recording and continue working with the rhythms alone.  Once I feel that I’m solid with sounding the rhythms on a neutral syllable, I switch to speaking the words (a cappella) in rhythm.  When that’s comfortably up to tempo, I speak the words in rhythm over the accompaniment.

Pitches.  Again, I keep the words far away from this step at first.  I want to get the basics settled into my instrument before complicating things.  I’ll pick a neutral vowel at first and work with legato articulation, playing my melody on the piano and singing along.  Then I’ll switch to staccato (repeated “bee. bee. bee…” is useful) so that my brain/voice can’t cheat.  I’m always amazed how much pitch adjustment can happen while holding out notes.  With staccato, the pitch is either right or it is not.  A fun thing I do to test my accuracy is to play the correct pitch on the piano just a slight bit after I’ve sung.  I then can clearly hear if I was correct (or not).

Also, I take the time when I’m focusing on pitches to also look to the accompaniment for support and clues.  Where and how is the melody supported?  I circle helper pitches and chords in the accompaniment so I know where to listen for help, especially at the beginnings of phrases.

Start at the very beginning: Rarely. Perhaps it’s worth mentioning here that I rarely start at the beginning of a piece during my practice sessions.  This is a very common error that many of my new students frequently make.  I guarantee if you do this you’ll know the beginning very well, the ending not well, and the tricky spots in the middle will stay a disaster.

Spotlight the transitions.  I usually find midway into the memorizing process that once I’m into a section everything flows easily.  Getting the sections started, though, is a different story.  I’ll spend a lot of time at this point focusing on the transitions by themselves.  The last words of the previous paragraph going into the musical interlude going into the beginning of the next thing I sing.  If I was memorizing something that was interactive with another character, I would memorize the final few words of what they were saying as my cues to lead me into my response.

There’s more!  To not make this post too overwhelming, I’ve split it up, so make sure to read: Memorization: Part II.






Book Review: Practiceopedia-The Music Student’s Illustrated Guide to Practicing

Are you familiar with this book?  It was written in 2007 by Philip Johnston, and it’s a valuable resource in my teaching studio.  In fact, I keep it out as the “coffee table book” in my waiting room for students to grab a practice tip of the week to try out.

The author is a music educator who has a broad background which includes being a concert pianist as well as teaching piano, marital arts, and high school English.  I especially welcome the mixture of attentive focus and incremental goals in his practice advice.

The Practiceopedia is set up to be very easy to use and is illustrated in a way that will appeal to all ages.  Quickly skimming will always bring new ideas to the surface, and a favorite aspect of mine is the topic focus guide at the beginning of the book.  “Not wanting to practice” and “Saving time” are just two of the topics that have a multitude of practice suggestions.

My husband and I both have degrees in music and perform professionally.  We have spent many, many hours both practicing and learning how to practice.  Even with all of our experience, we both enjoy reading this book and appreciate the presentation of ideas both new to us and time-tested.  Whether you’re a parent of a student, a musician who is just starting out, or an advanced performer, this book truly has something to offer everyone on their musical journey.



Skipping along the path

This is my first teaching blog post, but I’ve been sharing a lot of the ideas I’ll soon be sharing with you with my students for many years now. I’ve discovered that generally our SELF is the biggest obstacle any of us face when it comes to learning new skills. Who could really blame the brain, though, when you consider how much energy it takes to adjust habits or build new ones? It’s always easiest to just keep doing what you have been doing.

Problem is, that’s not always the most effective (or fun) way to do it!

I’m excited to share with you the research I’ve done and tips and tricks I’ve found that make this whole story-singing endeavor more enjoyable. You have to be willing to dive in, though, and celebrate the messiness of it all. I constantly tell my students that you have to approach this instrument as if you are a curious scientist or detective. The willingness to examine your vocal production and all of the thoughts and muscles and emotions and intentions that wrap together to produce your singing is the key to success.

I will share ideas about how to make the best use of your practice time, how to embrace the nervousness that comes with any performance, and how to understand the fundamentals of how the voice works as an instrument. We’ll shine the spotlight on focus and intention and see how these skills are some of the most crucial for our entire journey. We’ll examine what it means to really connect with our audience and the story we are conveying.

There’s so much “good stuff,” so have patience and try out whatever calls to you. And let me know how’re you’re doing in the process… sharing is one of the priorities of living, right?