We all have things that inspire us, whether it's a person or place or event or sensation.
Me, I listen to music. A lot. Sometimes I'll play a song over and over and over ad nauseam if it just hits a certain chord in me. It might be straight for an hour or over the course of a couple of days. I'll think of how certain parts could translate to taiko, either in a solo or a new composition.
So what inspires you? And how often do you let it? How often do you expose yourself to the things that make you want to grow, try, create, explore?
Monday, July 29, 2013
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Question Everything: Talent
I wrote a post last
year here about looking at talent through your own lens and how that lens can
warp where you see talent. But what are you seeing when you see "talent"?
Imagine a group lines
up a bunch of naname (slant stand) drums in a row and plays them in a line of
people, moving down that line. They
strike well, but they look uncomfortable, both unfamiliar with the song and
with the kata. Are they talented?
The twist here is that
this happened when Kodo came to our studio a long time ago and played one of
their member’s local songs. Most of them
didn’t know it and were picking it up quickly, but naname isn’t a style that
Kodo does much (if at all).
So if you see someone
who’s not dazzling you on a particular instrument, does that mean they’re not
talented? And does talent, in terms of
performance, only apply to the in-your-face stuff like spins and twirls and
jumping about?
If someone doesn’t
have the fastest hands or the flashiest moves, are they less talented than the
people that do? What if that person
holds a really steady tempo and/or never gets off the beat? It may not wow the crowd, but it’s equally
impressive. That’s a talent. There’s also a talent in recovering after a
mistake, either so the audience never notices or showing poise under pressure.
Is remembering how old
songs used to go a talent? Is being able
to play a different solo each time a talent?
Is making people smile when you make eye contact with them a talent? Is inspiring people through being genuine on
stage a talent? Of course these are
talents, but do we recognize them?
Next time you watch a
performance, can you see what talents people have that aren’t readily apparent?
Monday, July 22, 2013
On Composition: Parameters
A lot of people who have composed or who want to compose often find themselves having trouble with beginning a new piece.
Where to begin?
Imagine you have a big canvas in front of you, totally blank. You have brushes and paint and pens; you can create anything you want. Go!
...hmm, where to start? What color, what pattern, what brush, where on the canvas? So many choices!
And that's where a lot of people get stuck.
Now imagine you come to the canvas and someone has drawn a couple of things. What those things are doesn't really matter. It could be two large circles on top of each other, a series of jagged lines across the page, or something like a hand print.
Is it easier now to start creating? Your mind takes the basic shapes and starts creating around them. It's like cloud-watching; we interpret abstracts and flesh them out in our heads.
So if you want to write something but can't figure out how to start, put some parameters in place and see what happens. These don't have to just be visual, they can be anything that gives you a starting idea.
Where to begin?
Imagine you have a big canvas in front of you, totally blank. You have brushes and paint and pens; you can create anything you want. Go!
...hmm, where to start? What color, what pattern, what brush, where on the canvas? So many choices!
And that's where a lot of people get stuck.
Now imagine you come to the canvas and someone has drawn a couple of things. What those things are doesn't really matter. It could be two large circles on top of each other, a series of jagged lines across the page, or something like a hand print.
Is it easier now to start creating? Your mind takes the basic shapes and starts creating around them. It's like cloud-watching; we interpret abstracts and flesh them out in our heads.
So if you want to write something but can't figure out how to start, put some parameters in place and see what happens. These don't have to just be visual, they can be anything that gives you a starting idea.
- Use only one taiko, the rest is non-drum percussion (cowbell, shekere, kane, etc.)
- Set up is in a certain shape, like a T or X or something abstract
- Everyone plays while kneeling
- Mirror images - either split down the middle or pairs or what-have-you
- Fast and/or dense patterns but sections or solos that are sparse and/or full of movement
- More people than instruments - what do they do/where do they go?
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Watch it!
I’ve said this before and I’ll say
it again – if you have the opportunity to videotape yourself at a practice or
performance, do it!
The reason I’m bringing this back
up is because of a video taken during last weekend’s San Jose Obon. In one of my solos, I did a move that didn’t
feel very clean. The tempo was fast and
I delivered the notes where I wanted, but it didn’t feel like it looked
good.
Then I saw it on video and I was
pleasantly surprised; it looked good! Go
figure.
There were other songs that day
where I got to watch myself and again was happy to see that what didn’t
necessarily feel as strong at the time looked better on review. Mind you, I can certainly pick out things
that need improvement, but that’s a given when watching a recording.
Recording yourself takes the variable of interpretation away (or at least most
of it). What you thought was a major
mistake might actually have been barely noticeable. What you thought was an epic solo might
actually have looked awkward. What you
thought was a badly-executed pattern might have been really in the pocket.
This post isn’t a revelation, just
a reminder that what we see in our heads is often a lot different than what
really happened. Most people would be
well-served to watch themselves recorded and see the truth!
Monday, July 15, 2013
Handling compliments
How do you handle someone complimenting you after a performance or a demonstration? What if the praise is well over the top?
This past weekend was San Jose Obon, our biggest festival event. I had the last solo of the last song on Sunday. As we were packing up, a man motioned to me and asked if I had a second to talk.
He said my solo really stood out to him of the eight in the song, and then he asked me if I knew Gene Krupa. I told him I did, and he said my solo reminded him of Krupa's style of playing. Since we were both fans, we talked a bit about Krupa's style.
I was actually a bit shocked by the compliment, because Gene Krupa is a legend among drummers. It's like comparing my karate to a world champion or my writing ability to Hemmingway's. I've gotten a lot of compliments but that was way off the charts. Like my solo? Thank you! Like it the best in the song? I'm glad it had an impact! Reminds you of Gene Krupa? Uh...well now...
Personally, I don't think I'm near that level, but instead of telling him that I thought he was wrong, I told him he was too kind and thanked him several times. I figured that instead of having an argument about what he was feeling, I should just let him say what he wanted to and take his compliment with humility.
I've seen people take compliments poorly, like they were ashamed someone else really liked what they saw. I've also seen people react almost too neutral to compliments, like the person could have said "I like kittens" instead of "I really liked your energy/solo."
So when you get a compliment, how do you handle it? And what if that compliment is overwhelming, how do you accept it graciously without creating an awkward moment?
(Here's a link to one of my favorite Gene Krupa videos. At 1:34 he has a short solo but the whole thing is pretty awesome.)
This past weekend was San Jose Obon, our biggest festival event. I had the last solo of the last song on Sunday. As we were packing up, a man motioned to me and asked if I had a second to talk.
He said my solo really stood out to him of the eight in the song, and then he asked me if I knew Gene Krupa. I told him I did, and he said my solo reminded him of Krupa's style of playing. Since we were both fans, we talked a bit about Krupa's style.
I was actually a bit shocked by the compliment, because Gene Krupa is a legend among drummers. It's like comparing my karate to a world champion or my writing ability to Hemmingway's. I've gotten a lot of compliments but that was way off the charts. Like my solo? Thank you! Like it the best in the song? I'm glad it had an impact! Reminds you of Gene Krupa? Uh...well now...
Personally, I don't think I'm near that level, but instead of telling him that I thought he was wrong, I told him he was too kind and thanked him several times. I figured that instead of having an argument about what he was feeling, I should just let him say what he wanted to and take his compliment with humility.
I've seen people take compliments poorly, like they were ashamed someone else really liked what they saw. I've also seen people react almost too neutral to compliments, like the person could have said "I like kittens" instead of "I really liked your energy/solo."
So when you get a compliment, how do you handle it? And what if that compliment is overwhelming, how do you accept it graciously without creating an awkward moment?
(Here's a link to one of my favorite Gene Krupa videos. At 1:34 he has a short solo but the whole thing is pretty awesome.)
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Leading and following
In watching competitive reality shows, I often hear participants criticizing a group leader. It’s a lot of “they don’t have leadership skills” or “they don’t know what they're doing.” On the other side you have the leader who’s often criticizing people on their own team for not following directions or for trying to usurp leadership. Sometimes one side is right, or even both, but it's more common that they're both wrong.
What's your style of leadership? If you prefer a more collaborative
process, make sure you know the difference between welcoming input and relying on
it. If you like to take the reins and
dictate roles, be careful when handling suggestions so that dictation
doesn’t become dictatorship.
How are you as a follower? Do you wait to be told what to do or try to
be proactive? Can you put the good of
the group ahead of yourself for a project or do you voice your disapproval? Are you someone who can carry out the
leader’s directions or do you feel the need to constantly give input?
Personally, I feel like the best
solution is to put yourself in the other party’s shoes, not in a theoretical
way but a very practical one. If you’re
following someone’s instructions, ask yourself if the way you’re behaving is
how you’d like someone else to behave with you in charge. If you’re leading a group, ask yourself if
you’d like to be led in a similar way.
Granted, sometimes what works for you doesn’t always work for everyone
else, but this mindset can help you be aware of what mannerisms you’re
exhibiting, regardless of your role.
There have been many times where I
just wanted to tell someone in charge my opinion on what would make a
drill/song/exercise/you-name-it easier, but I learned to ask myself if it really needed to be said and if it was going to make things better or worse. There have been (and still are) times when
I’m in charge and ask what a group wants to do, but then have to make a decision because people are either offering too much input or too little.
It's not just a taiko thing; I mean I teach a lot more in karate than I do in taiko. It's a group thing; a people thing. It’s also rarely a black and white
situation. Even a really good leader
will have a bad day, and even the most reliable follower might react
unfavorably. You might also have a
leader who can really use perspective from another voice or a follower who
needs to remember they’re not in charge.
Both of those can be handled in ways that make things better or worse
for everyone involved.
Sometimes it's hard to lead, but it can be equally hard to follow. How can you make it easier for the person or people on the other side?
(artwork: Delacroix, 1830)
Monday, July 8, 2013
What are you watching?
When you watch a taiko performance
(especially a live one), where are you looking?
Early on, the soloist or the front
row or the odaiko player in the back would get my attention the most. Now I’m finding that the more taiko I watch,
the more I look at the people away from the spotlight.
I’m not “looking for weaknesses”,
I’m just trying to see how the ensemble functions as a whole: Where are the newer members placed? Have they teamed up the weaker players with
the stronger ones or kept them apart?
Mind you, as a composer, I want
people to watch the stuff I want them to watch.
I don’t want them to focus on the back row, for example, even if the
back row is doing just fine! However,
as an observer with that in mind, I find that watching the rest of the piece
can be more interesting than just what’s meant to get my attention.
This method does mean I’m more
likely to just enjoy the songs as if I was watching the “intended” parts, but
sometimes all it takes is a quick look here, a small glance there, then I’m
back on the focal point again.
This is made much easier through
recording and watching it later, but we don’t always have that luxury.
So, as an observer, break away
from the “shiny object” you’re meant to be watching and see how the rest of the
song looks. As a composer or arranger,
assume people are going to see not just the polished side of the rock, but also the
rough edges as well.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Please don't say this...
I haven’t ranted in a while, but
this one is fun…
There are two phrases that can
really test a teacher’s patience. The
first, less insidious one is: “well, *I* learned it this way.”
How often does that phrase really
help things along? It implies that the
student disagrees with what they’re being taught, almost as if they know
better. It’s as if the instruction is
seen as an attack to what’s familiar to someone, to which they have now put up a defense
to preserve things.
In my experience, it leads to
further explanation from the instructor until that person is eventually doing what
was asked in the first place. If the
instructor isn’t able to assert leadership right away, this can break down into
a lot of people offering their opinions, which just takes up a lot of extra
time. If the instructor is less inclined
to explain and just wants to move on, this can upset people who aren’t
“convinced” and didn’t like how things were handled.
Mind you, sometimes a teacher is
open to that sort of dialogue, or hasn’t planned something quite thoroughly
enough to where someone really should be stepping up and saying something. This, however, is the exception.
The second and more dastardly
phrase is “our style/group does it *this* way.”
Unless the instructor is asking for this sort of information, this
phrase is much like the first but hides behind “the style” and puts a kibosh on
progress. How so? Well when it’s you telling an instructor that
you do it differently, they can engage you.
But if you say “my style” or “my mom” or “Clint Eastwood” tells you to
do it a certain way, now we’re attacking it/them when we tell you to change. And even if one party doesn’t see it that
way, the other party might.
Why do I bring all this up? Last week at the dojo, I had two incidents during
the same class. It’s not like this never
happens, but twice in a row was a bit much…
One student wanted clarification
on a specific technique, and so I provided one - to which he said his style
taught it a different way. And that left
me wondering what exactly he expected. Did he want to hear me say, “you’re right, forget that
you came here to learn something, you just do it however is easiest for
you”? I understand comparing the
differences in style and being observant, but c’mon… If I’m going somewhere to be taught a style
of something, I don’t want to just be allowed to do my own thing, because
then I’m not learning what I came there for!
Another student asked me to show
which part of the foot we use for a specific kick because his previous style used a
different part. In explaining that we
use both but have a preference, I referenced another kick where he was
taught to use again a different part than we teach, saying he did it in
tournaments and it worked there. ...so then
why did you ask me in the first place?
Even though he wasn't getting upset about it, he was basically arguing with
me about the answers I was giving him, simply because it wasn’t what he was
used to. Ultimately I told him it's what we expect to see on tests and it’s up to him whether or not
he wants to pass. That’s not my
preferred response, but I had already tried logic through words and demonstrations and couldn't spend more time with him.
There's a variant on this
which goes, "that's not the way I was taught..." which is usually in
response to getting conflicting information. This is more likely to
happen within a group when information is contradictory or has changed over time. Sometimes it's said in a defensive way, but other times it's a way to make sure that the instructor is on the same page as the rest of the group. While this phrase isn't intrinsically bad, if it's a person's default "mode" when getting confusing information, they're preventing the chance to learn something new and seeing where the instructor might have planned to go.
We all say these things to a
certain degree and I’ll admit I’ve gotten caught up in it myself, but think
carefully before you say either one of those two phrases to someone
teaching. It’s often more of a defensive
mechanism rather than anything else, but it can turn a learning experience into
something much less productive. Finally,
how do you know that doing something differently than what you’re used to won’t
lead you to a greater understanding of things?
Monday, July 1, 2013
Sweeping
At the dojo, we sweep the floor before class
starts. There’s one push-mop and it
takes about 2 minutes to cover the entire floor. It’s a pretty simple job, with one
unspoken rule we have: Don’t let a black
belt sweep the floor.
Our black belts have
been there at least 4-5 years but probably way more than that. It’s assumed that in those years, they’ve
swept probably hundreds of times. By
doing it so they don’t have to, it shows respect to not only them but the dojo as well. The idea is the dojo comes first, then you.
Sometimes none of the
lower belts sweep and one of us black belts will start sweeping. Usually someone sees this happening and
rushes over to offer to take the handle.
If that doesn’t happen and the black belt finishes sweeping, it’s not
going to end well for the class. It
means tons of extra pushups and sit-ups and mountain climbers and all the
calisthenics that make things hurt.
Needless to say, the black belts rarely have to sweep.
At a dojo with a more defined sempai-kohai system, it might always be
the newer members who are expected to sweep.
With us, it doesn’t matter if you’re new or not. And sometimes, when a black belt does grab
the mop and have others offer to take it, we’ll refuse and it won’t mean
extra pushups – it shows that everyone should take responsibility, no matter
the rank.
It’s also noticed who
sweeps. In a class of about 50 people,
there’s a small pool of about ten who regularly sweep. We’ve reminded the class that everyone is
responsible, but for some reason it doesn’t really sink it. This won’t ever factor into a belt test, but
it’s a sign of respect and awareness.
Maybe you sweep after,
not before. Maybe you make the new
students sweep. Maybe you don’t even
sweep! But think about the things that
your members are expected to do and ask yourself how often do you do them? Are you the first to help out or the
last? How do you think it makes you
appear to others? If the group followed
your example, would it run smoothly or would things be a pigsty?
It’s not easy to stay
peripheral and make sure all the little things are taken care of, but it’s
better to try than to “let someone else do it”, no matter how long you’ve been
in a group. You can set a good example
in more ways than the hierarchy of your group dictates.
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