A Self-Taught "Big Moussa?"

Take a look at this clip, and especially, at the information that the poster (xylophonist, Mamadou Diabate) has prepared.

Diabate describes that for the Sambla, practicing means “playing, making music and having fun together.” He explains that: “a goal of this exercise is that Small Moussa Diabate (here 5 years old) learns different ostinati so firmly that he, in spite of the rhythmically free-flying solo and the capricious beat-changes of Big Moussa Diabate [...], can't be thrown out of the beat any more.”

Well, a fundamental component to a more traditional apprenticeship is the presence of someone who would play the role of a “Big Moussa”—i.e. someone who already knows the accompaniment patterns quite well and who has a ready stock of embellishment possibilities in the hands, mind, and body. Without a Big Moussa accentuating and highlighting the various feels of given ostinati, and especially without the social interaction that makes the exercises “fun,” (see all the other children just hanging out, dancing, and clowning around?), practising becomes much more like work, and much less like play—or at the very least, like communication. Now granted, Little Moussa does have his fair share of work to do. He does have the accompaniment patterns to learn before he can even play the game with Big Moussa. And whenever one is learning new “vocabulary,” there’s a certain amount of struggle to undergo before appropriate application of that vocabulary becomes second nature.* But even still, when there is a Big Moussa involved, the rewards of the struggle are immediate. Patterns learned are applied directly to musical, communicative situations and learning becomes much more intrinsically rewarding. (My guess is that, unless the game were fun for both of the Moussas, they just wouldn't bother doing it. Does anyone you know play video games because they've been told that "practice makes perfect?")

Unfortunately, apart from my month in New York, I’ve never really had a “Big Moussa” to accompany, with whom to simply “play music,” nor from whom to learn about how to generate variation in the patterns acquired. The fact is, save for my month with Famoro, I’ve simply never been in the same city as a teacher for more than a few days at a time, and so, have had to video-mediate nearly all of my bala lessons. Even in New York (much to my dismay), I rarely played together with Famoro. (I alluded to this in an earlier post.) Instead of playing with me (letting me accompany him), Famoro would spend most of our lesson time just showing me some new accompaniment pattern or variation. Then he would leave me alone to figure out (usually via transcription of the video I had taken) the patterns shown and to practice them by myself.

Well . . . a new semester has begun at school and I find myself taking on the role of bala teacher. (Several people have expressed interest and I’ve finally decided to accept, and indeed, am excited to have a few students.) Naturally, I want the students to enjoy their studies. I’d rather that they had the opportunity to learn like Little Moussa, which is to say, communicatively, and high surrender. But I’ve had very little opportunity to learn with a Big Moussa myself, and so, it is difficult for me to “draw different feels out of the time” in just that way that would expand the students’ understanding of how they can learn the instrument without having to simply memorize a lot of lengthy phrases and then cut and paste them together—which, again unfortunately is how I’ve had to learn to play.

Now the purpose of this post is not to complain, but rather to try to articulate the dilemma (and perhaps even consider a solution.) I feel that if I had gone through (or could go through at some point during the course of my PhD program) a traditional-type apprenticeship, learning with a Big Moussa, then assuming the role of Big Moussa myself when I have students of my own would not only be easier for me, but would, I bet, also make learning more enjoyable for them.

*One hallmark of a good teacher is, of course, the ability to make the acquisition of new material as quick and as painless as possible, given the particular characteristics of the individual learner. With a good teacher, and perhaps a certain amount of focus, Little Moussa could no doubt learn the parts very quickly, but would still need at least some amount of time to memorize and allow patterns to sink in.

So That's How You Tune a Bala . . .

Two days and counting, but my bala is now wonderfully in-tune and the keys are tied up tight and looking great. It was a team effort. Famoro has quite an ear and I'm getting rather good at restringing. We have yet to re-attach the gourds, but for that, we've decided there's no rush.

Tomorrow, after Mosque, Famoro and his daughter Sona and I will head to either Brooklyn or the Bronx to find a park in which to sit down and do some playing. Now that our instruments are in tune with each other, I hope we'll get to do a lot more of that sort of thing. I'm looking forward to just holding down accompaniment patterns for Famoro. I anticipate that accompanying will be a great opportunity to concentrate on tone, accuracy, and form, as well as to be able to listen to where Famoro brings the melodies and how he draws different feels out of the time. I've been doing some of that all along of course, but not much, and when I'm holding down the accompaniment and my perspective is that of an active participant, I acquire a unique (if not deepened) understanding.

Tomorrow also marks the start of Keme Burema. Big day. Better get some rest.

You Can't Push on a Rope

I spend a lot of my time just memorizing patterns. It occurs to me that (and though it may seem obvious, I think it bears mentioning . . . ) I’m not just memorizing a sequence of notes or key positions. Yes, I am doing that, but part of what I’m also memorizing is how it feels to be doing it correctly--in my hands, wrists, fingers, arms, back, money-maker, etc…

When Famoro is across from me, showing me something new, I can recognize patterns and decipher the code very quickly--possibly (owing to a lot of experience) quicker than most. But gosh it takes me a long time to get my hands doing what my mind is asking them to. I wonder if there isn’t some way I can speed that part of the process up, by say . . . relaxing more? developing my concentration (whatever that means)? or just not worrying so much about speeding it up?

Famoro assures me that stuff comes with practice. And yes, it does. I have to do “more more more more more practice” but still, I wonder if, for example, making skill acquisition less urgent might not actually speed it up. After all, you can’t push on a rope . . .

Practice-meme #2: "You can't push on a rope."