Hanging Out at the Magic Room

Consider the following list of activities:

The performing of a Haydn piano Sonata
The execution of a cup-stacking sequence
The performing of a Maori haka
A Cirque de Soleil-style five ball juggling performance
The execution of a country line-dance
The public recitation of a memorized speech
The performing of an Indonesian gamelan piece
A freestyle skateboard jam on a half-pipe
A one-on-one basketball game
An improvisatory jazz performance
A b-boy jam to unfamiliar music
A bala performance at a wedding or a child-naming ceremony
A conversation in a second or acquired language
A capoeira jogo

How do the people who perform these activities learn to do them? And (assuming they all have criteria for distinguishing the quality of one performance over another), how do they each “improve” their performances? What things do they have to practise in order to improve?

When Jay Rahn (a York faculty member) and I were discussing some of the differences between Mande music and some other of the world’s musics, we made frequent use of the term “scored.” For the purposes of that conversation, if something was “scored” (regardless of whether it was written down or otherwise visually represented) it was, by and large, conceived of and performed the same way every time from beginning to end with little or no improvisation. Given this definition, it seems to me that the first seven activities in the list above are scored activities, whereas the latter seven, are non-scored. And my sense is that the way one learns to perform in the context of a scored activity is rather different from the way one learns to perform in the context of a non-scored activity—or at least, learning non-scored performance seems to involve an extra step.

With half-pipe skate boarding, capoeira jogos, or bala performance, you never really know what will come next at any given moment. Performance involves the creation of a context (the back and forth traversing of the tube, the jenga, an ostinato groove or chord structure) and then, at any time, the performer can decide to generate or react to changes in that context (usually within particular style parameters). The learning process thus consists of the acquisition of “riffs” or “tricks” that open up possibilities for the performer, without necessarily binding them to a strict recreation of a memorized sequence (as might be the case in a country line dance, for example.) In practising non-scored activities, individuals must develop not only the ability to execute the discrete pattern “chunks” but also to reorder those chunks in reaction to various (often new and sometimes unexpected) stimuli in the environment.

Now, maybe the differences are of degree, rather than kind. As Casey Sokol (also a faculty member at York) was describing yesterday, there is after all a certain amount of improvisation (moment to moment decision-making undertaken by the performer) in all of the above activities. What’s more, the extent to which high-level bala players are actually undertaking random, never before sequenced orderings of the chunks that they piece together (instead of simply returning to sequences that they’d previously mapped out at some point) is not totally clear. Indeed, although above I described that half-pipe skaters, capoeiristas, and balafolaw “never really know what will come next at any given moment” this is true only up to a point. (They don’t likely have to be prepared to jump out of the way of falling safes or defend themselves against wolf attacks.) As well, to be sure, bala playing, as with other improvised music performance involves (or may involve) rather a lot more than simply reordering memorized chunks.*

Nonetheless, my impression is that when the skateboarders I knew in high-school used to hang out at the Magic Room learning and sharing and performing tricks for one another, or when my drum kit buddies would express their excitement at having learned a new rudiment and being in the process of teaching themselves how to articulate it across the toms and snare drum, the practising that they were doing is somehow different from the kind one would have to undertake in order to learn to perform (and then perfect performance of) a Hayden sonata or a cup-stacking sequence. Am I barking up the wrong tree?

*Remind me to write about this some time, citing some of what both Casey and Rob have discussed with me . . .

Mastery Criteria

I think I've observed that my practising (at least) feels more effective when I have mastery criteria for the things I’m trying to learn. (In fact, when I’m not using some kind of mastery criteria, my practising hardly feels effective at all--much more like I’m just mindlessly tapping the keys.)

Generally my mastery criteria are unambitious--usually just four or eight perfect, consecutive repetitions. I set the number low for a few reasons, but a big one is to accommodate the people I live with here. I imagine (and sense) that it’s way less irritating when I work on a pattern for only say, twenty minutes, rather than for an entire afternoon. I do think a lot about Tiger Woods’ "100 putts in a row" strategy though. When I get back to Toronto, it will be fun to try experimenting a bit with the numbers of perfect repetitions to see how my playing (and my enjoyment of practice sessions) is affected.

Now, if only there were a way to objectively measure performance so I could see numeric data on how my playing is affected . . . I wonder if the DDR pickup system couldn’t be rigged up to Jaliya somehow. I should get over to Austria for a week or two before my program is over to see what Harald and I can devise.

French, Mandinka, & the Mande Xylophone

In addition to the Mande xylophone, I'm studying French and have begun learning Mandinka. My 10-minutes-a-day resolution for the xylophone has been very successful so I've thought to apply the 10-minutes system to my French and my Mandinka. And that's been going well until now. I have an observation about those studies that will offer insight to my xylo-practicing: In my French studies, I always seem to want to try to learn everything all at once. I don't have patience with myself. I try to accomplish too much, spread myself thin, and end up not learning anything particularly well. I think that (as I've been doing with the first and second batch of Mandinka flashcards), if I make sure I don't move on until I've mastered the material at hand, I'll be better off for it in the long run. I think that my French studies would improve if I achieved greater mastery over a particular set of flashcards instead of being in a rush to just get to the end of the list. Mario Gaetano (2001) asserts that "the primary goal for each practice session is progess." But progress could be a strengthening of knowledge of old words (manifested in speed, accuracy, and confidence.) Adding new words is of course important, but an "exercising" of your existing vocabulary must also take place.

When practicing xylophone, be calm. Be patient. Focus on the task at hand. Concentrate on improving the specific skill or movement. Set a time-limit so you don't spend all night on one thing, but don't just move through the practice in a hurry to get to the end of the exercises. You will enjoy your practice more, and it will pay off for you in the long-run.