I remember in 7th grade having a sleep-over. My friend, one of the few other Annettes I've known, brought a book, (one of the Nancy Drews) and announced as we were getting ready for bed, that she had promised her mother that she would read 10 pages every night before going to sleep. My first thought was that bringing a book to a sleep-over was a little rude, but I didn't say that. My second thought, which I did give voice to was this: "But what if you get to a really good part, and don't want to stop after just 10 pages?" That may have been the last sleep-over that Annette and I had. The concept that she might just possibly want to keep on reading had never occurred to her. I stayed up many nights long past my bedtime because I couldn't find a good stopping place in whatever book I was reading.
And similarly, it was never a fight to get me to practice, either piano, guitar or singing. Often, the hard part was to get me to stop. And, I recognize that that's not
I have actually told a few students that I didn't want them to practice. One young man was practicing so long, and so late at night that he was not only keeping his family awake, he was doing himself serious damage. Sometimes, students are only relearning bad habits that I've just gotten them to stop doing.
When I was in college, one of the piano professors was playing in a concert with a string quintet. He'd been practicing for weeks. Concert came and in the middle of a lengthy concerto he just stopped playing for several measures. He realized that he had no idea why he'd stopped, fortunately the quintet kept on playing and he quickly came back in. He was talking about it to his office mate, who knew exactly why he'd stopped playing there. Every single time he sat down to practice, he'd make the same mistake at the same place, stop, correct the mistake, and then go on with the piece. In the performance, he couldn't go back and correct, so eventually he went on. He had taught himself to always stop there. Think about that for just a moment. He had taught himself to always make the same mistake. Over and over. The same mistake.
He told every class that he taught that story, hoping that if he could teach us nothing else, we'd learn how not to practice.
When I was taking piano lessons, my teacher was nuts. I mean, she really was. Lived in a huge Victorian house, 3 stories, plus attics and cellar. Just her, her mother, and her cat. (Just one cat at the time, but I haven't seen her in decades.) When they went on vacation, the cat went with them, and ate from room service. The living room had no furniture, just the 9-foot grand piano. Sometimes the cat slept inside the piano. You'd be playing along, and suddenly, instead of warm, lovely tones, you'd hear a soft thump as the piano hammers would impact on sleeping cat. While you played, the teacher would pace the perimeter of the room; never watching your fingering, never seeing possible trouble coming. When you made a mistake, she'd scream. You had to stop, correct the mistake, and then go on. In four years, I don't think I ever played a piece straight through.
When I switched to a different teacher, she had to force me to play songs without stopping, regardless of how many mistakes I made. It was a very long time before I unlearned that bad habit.
All of that taught me one very valuable lesson: how to practice. So, here are my steps for learning a new song. Necessary items: music - be it score, book, or sheet; piano, glass of water; tea (optional); pencil (Not optional).
1) I look over the music. Are there patterns? Yes, the song is 5 pages long, but how many of those measures are the same? Usually songs follow some sort of format, like poetry; ABA, AABA. Are there verses, choruses? Repeats? Obvious variations? This gives me a better chance of making fewer mistakes, and tells me where I need to pay more attention. (You don't have to be able to read music to notice patterns.) I also make sure that I know what all the words mean and how to pronounce them.
2) I play and sing through the song a couple of times. If I make the same mistake, or have to pause to figure something out, I make a note of that.
3) I isolate the trouble spots, slowing them down - figuring out the timing, intonation, technique, whatever the problem is, and work carefully on just that problem. When I can make it through the first spot without any issues, I put it back into the song. I sing or play from an earlier section, through the first spot. If that problem is now fixed, I go on and apply the same procedure to the next problem. If it's not fixed, I continue to work on that same spot, but from a different point of view. Maybe the problem wasn't what I first thought it was, might there be something else wrong? When I was studying voice this would be the point where, if I still couldn't figure out what was wrong, I'd leave that spot, go on, finish the song, and ask my teacher's help on the real trouble spot.
I quickly discovered that by practicing this way, I could really make the most of my practice time. It was great. I would look at the song and then sing it once. Then spend a few minutes on whatever problems came up. Then to finish it off, sing through the whole song again. Then I could go on to the next piece. I became known as a very quick study. (A quick study or a fast study is what you call someone who learns a role quickly.) What I was was a smart study. It also made better use of my lesson time. Rather than waste time letting the teacher find those same problems, I could tell him up front, and we could get to work on them.
As I got older, and more experienced, I added a fourth step to the process. Listening.
4) I find recordings of other, more experienced singers, doing the same piece, and listen, very carefully, with the music in front of me. What do they do at my trouble spots? Can I hear exactly what vowel sound they are making? Is the voice placed forward or toward the back of their throat? How is their timing? Do I like what they are doing, or do I think it's rubbish?
I might listen to anywhere from three to ten different singers, making notes of what I like, and what I don't like. Then I go back to the piano, and sing through the song again. Often, the changes that come up are amazing. Now I can really start to learn what the composer might have been trying to convey. All that went before, that was the technical part of the song; the nuts and bolts. After all that, now I can work on the artistry of music. Admittedly, some songs don't really have all that much to them. After you find out that the Good Ship Lollipop is actually about an airplane (airship) and work out the puns, there's really not much more to be gotten out of it. Other songs: Vissi d'arte, l'altra notte, All the Things You Are, The Rose, to name a very few, always offer new depths, new insights. They never get old.
So, how long should you practice? For some singers, particularly the younger ones, sometimes all that's necessary is to do a warm-up, everyday, if possible, and run through whatever songs I've assigned. Songs are not going to be learned in one sitting. But, as a teacher, I would rather help with the learning process than the unlearning process. If there are problems, I would rather find a list of them, written out, than find that the student has been carefully learning the wrong words, or the wrong notes. And the list doesn't need to be technical. It can be something as simple as, "On the second verse, something just doesn't seem right." or as complex as, "On p.3, second system, third measure, I can't seem to get the timing on the rest," or a score with the problems circled in pencil. (I always have pencils with me when I practice. They are a vital part of the whole process.)
On a very personal note, as a teacher, I don't want to have to go over the words again, and again, and again. I'd like, more than anything for my students to learn the words at home. Not memorized. Unless the song is going to be performed, I don't really care about memorization. What I want is familiarity; knowing what the words are, which ones come next, that kind of thing. It makes actually learning the music much easier.
As the singer gets a little older, into the teenage years and on up, I'd like for them to practice as long as they comfortably can. Learning how to sing, or play any instrument is a process. You're never going to really learn a song - even the Good Ship Lollipop, in one run-through. (That may take two) But, some songs will take longer than others. Some may just not be right for your instrument, and that's fine. Never practice if it hurts. It means that you're doing something wrong, and we need to work on that at your lesson. (Or, perhaps you're ill, and need to see a doctor.) Make notes on what hurts and how. Really talk to your body, and listen to what it has to say. But, barring pain, practice as long as you want to. Some days, I practice for hours. Others, I'm lucky if I have time to warm-up.
Always start a practice session with your strength. After the warm-up, do your favorite song. One that just makes you feel good to sing. Then, go on to something new, or something that you've been struggling with. Really work on it. Follow the steps from above, and isolate the trouble spots. Really think about how you're singing; are you raising the soft palate, supporting the tone, relaxing your throat? When you're getting tired, or frustrated, put it up for a moment. Go get a fresh glass of water, or a new cup of tea. Rest for a minute. Then you have a choice. To go back to work on that spot, or finish. If you decide to finish, then go back to your strength, that favorite song. End your practice session literally on a good note.
(I just realized that there are no pictures and no videos with this blog. The only song I've mentioned more than once is the Good Ship Lollipop. I'm sure it's somewhere on YouTube, but I cannot bring myself to find it. You can look, if you want.)
How long to practice? As long as it takes.
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