Triumph of the Uncluttered Mind
But in doing so, I may inadvertently give a false impression of what this kind of practice is supposed to accomplish. The goal of detailed practice isn’t to burden ourselves with an overwhelming pile of stuff to think about as we play. That’s a recipe for disaster. The proper goal of exquisitely detailed practice is to enable us to think less—not more—as we play.
Decades ago, my teacher asked guitar virtuoso Pepe Romero what he thought of while performing. Replied Romero: “Nothing.” It seems a silly answer. But I think I know what he meant.
Imagine yourself as captain of a warship with a new and raw crew. Your goal is to train each crew member so they all know what to do. This takes time and endless drills. Through continuous education and drilling, each crew member gradually becomes expert in his or her particular job. When finally thrust into battle, you need not scurry about the ship telling each crew member what to do. Instead, you give orders and your crew efficiently carries them out. The sum total of well-trained crew members doing their individual tasks coalesces into a ship that responds smartly to your terse commands. As captain, you’re no longer micro-managing. Instead, you’re focused on the big picture. The details of how everything gets done is no longer your concern.
Conductor Herbert von Karajan told of how, when young and inexperienced, he was intimidated at making 100 orchestra musicians properly play a symphony. But in time, he realized it was like riding a horse through a steeplechase. The rider doesn’t lift the horse over each hurdle—rather, the rider guides and the horse does the rest.
This is the ideal goal of practice. If asked what you’re thinking about as you perform, the best answer is thus: “As little as possible.” You focus solely on putting across your expressive intent. The underlying mechanism purrs on, unattended by you.
