Failure *is* an option.

Sometimes, failure is a good thing. Why?

Not all taiko players perform for an audience, but we all still perform. We practice, we sweat, we learn, we try - but like many other artists, we don't always succeed every time. No one likes to get up there and play taiko and mess up, especially with people watching. So in turn, we practice to make sure that doesn't happen (or at least to minimize it happening).

Failing something sucks. It means you've tried something and it didn't work out. It can often make the next time even harder, because you remember the pain of the first failure. And when that happens, it gets worse and worse, heaping more and more negative stimulus on top of whatever the activity was you failed at to begin with. It could be learning a new move, improvising during a solo, or teaching a song to new people, among other things.

I'm not known for my optimism, but I believe in turning the negative around and making it work for me. If I flub a solo, I have the choice to beat myself up for it, or I can learn from it and make it better the next time. I hate messing up during a solo, but it will happen here and there unless I perform the same prescribed sequence over and over - but even then, mistakes will happen!

My philosophy when coming up against failure is very martial. It's like, "oh hell no!" goes off in my head and I'm too stubborn to give up. I may not always break through, or it may not happen quickly, but the satisfaction from achieving growth is the ultimate payoff.

I'd like to talk about different types of failure:

• Playing "to failure"

There's something rewarding about playing taiko until one is exhausted. Making the music that drives you to play more music possesses a euphoric quality. And none of us would say that we're in "enough" shape to play the taiko we do - more is better! So whether it's playing the last song of a two-hour concert with every remaining ounce of energy or just holding long and strong through a painful drill, there's serious satisfaction in making it through.

Sometimes the best way to know yourself is when you're at your weakest. What will you do when you're playing in an ensemble and your body fails you? Will your spirit go with it? How long can you push your ki, your spirit, before you reach your limit? And without pushing yourself that way, how can you ever build that "muscle" up?

In my dojo, it's frustrating to see a lot of advanced belts just "go through the motions". They work out but they don't have the emotional intensity in their techniques. When a belt test comes around, once they get tired, their techniques suffer greatly because they haven't had to really suck it up and PUSH. This is directly comparable to taiko practice vs. a taiko performance in my opinion.

If I'm in a performance and feel fatigue or feel like I'm getting tired, I imagine myself at the dojo, at a test. I refuse to show the audience a "sign of weakness" - I can die *after* the show! Better to fail while trying than to avoid trying in fear of possibly failing.

• Failing during a solo

Learning how to do an improvised solo during a song is no small feat. For San Jose Taiko, I'd say 95% of our songs have them. Being able to keep with the song's tempo during a solo is a skill, just like adding movement or keeping the mood of the song in your patterns. Whether it's someone new to taiko learning to solo in a song or someone experienced trying new patterns, failure happens.

What I hate to see happen is people so afraid to fail that they don't come out of their comfort box. There's no one method to teach people how to create a new solo, but a lot of people limit themselves in what they try to do. Where there's comfort, there's rarely growth.

Granted, in a performance, you don't necessarily want to be experimenting! That's a bit irresponsible to the group. But I've seen a lot of practices (and I'm not just talking about with SJT) where people almost feel pressured to play every solo at 100%. And it's hard to try something without worrying at all; that's human nature. But to just say to yourself, "I'm not going to play what I normally do" is a huge leap for most of us.

I'm not saying I'm always able to play brand-new content every time I solo! There are patterns that I like to start with, insert, and/or end with that keep things stable for both me and the rest of the ensemble. And there are practices when I just want to make sure I can pull off an error-free solo.

Forcing myself to play a different opening, move around more (or less), play with dynamics more, etc., almost invites failure. Not necessarily total failure, but hiccups and a little uncertainty perhaps. The first times are going to be the hardest, but it's a creative muscle that must be exercised in order to make it stronger!

• Failure in trying new things

Many of us come to taiko with a background in something else. Music, martial arts, dance, moose wrestling, whatever. Even if that's not the case, we all started taiko being, well...pretty awful. :) Taiko has the physical, the musical, the energy, movement, ensemble work, and often improvisation. How many of us were able to juggle all of that naturally? Not me or anyone I know...I'm still thinking; I'll let you know if I figure someone out!

There are groups out there that think of themselves as more..."purist". And this part doesn't apply to them as much. But for the rest of us, I see a lot of reluctance to incorporate other arts or musical styles into their personal repertoire. There's a feeling of "looking stupid" that isn't always said outright, but I can see it in the body language. Again, I'm not just talking about SJT; I've seen this in people both new to taiko and those who've been doing it for a while. Funny thing is, those who have been doing it the longest are the least concerned about how they look!

Maybe it's because ensemble taiko is a newer art form and the other arts/musics are more established that people feel less inclined to try incorporating them? There are fewer people who make taiko look easy than those who do ballet or jazz, right? Nonsense. I'd bet if you talked to a dancer or non-taiko musician, they'd say the same thing about taiko. And many other artists *are* using taiko in their works, for better or worse.

I first heard this quote about Obon dancing from Rev. Masao Kodani with Kinnara Taiko : "You're a fool if you dance; you're a fool if you don't dance. So if you're going to be a fool anyways, why not dance?" Why not indeed? Why not try that bellydancing workshop? Maybe you'll find a new understanding of your center (hara) and understand your posture better. Why not listen to music you've never heard before? Maybe you'll pick up a new solo pattern or get inspired to write a new piece? Why not try?


Don't focus on the outcome so much - that leads to worrying about failure. Why not just try sometimes and reflect afterwards? When failure happens, then you can reflect on it, learn from it. Would you rather be the one afraid to try because of "what if" or the one who grows despite the scrapes and falls? Show me a world-class artist who didn't struggle through failure to get where they are now!

Failure isn't inherently bad. Fear of failure is.