Language Is An Interaction, So Is Music
I observed something interesting when I was teaching one of my violin students this morning. Despite learning the instrument for just a few months, he has progressed rather quickly compared to my other students. Today we covered Perpetual Motion from Suzuki Violin School Vol. 1. I asked him to play me the piece from memory, and it went well. Then I asked him to play the double stroke variation, which he also had no problem with. For context, I always ask all my students to play to the metronome during lessons. This particular student has a strong sense of tempo, both with and without a metronome.
Everything was good, or so it seemed, until I asked him to play with the backing track, which had the exact same tempo that he usually plays at. With the accompaniment, things started to get difficult for him. He missed his notes, and at times, he forgot the fingering sequence and even which string to bow on. This perplexed me a little. I always thought that playing with an accompaniment should make things easier, not harder. At least, when I was learning the same piece as a child, the accompaniment definitely helped me a lot.
After the lesson, I had many thoughts because I have observed the same phenomenon happen frequently outside of studio lessons. No one would expect beginners to be musically aware, to understand the concept of melody and accompaniment and how to match them together. Unfortunately, I have encountered musicians who have played for years yet still do not know how to make music with others. I eventually came up with the following hypothesis: these musicians are socially awkward—they may excel at their craft, but they lack awareness of their surroundings, like failing to notice what the other musicians are doing. They are oblivious to the fact that making music is primarily about playing one's role and fitting in with others. Consequently, the music produced often feels subpar, disjointed, and artificial.
In the past, I have met so many musicians—be they students, amateurs, or professionals—who could play their instruments solo at a proficient level yet struggled when they had to play in an ensemble. They drag, rush, go out of tune, do not blend, miss their cues, or forget the things that were discussed during rehearsals. Sometimes they brought a negative attitude to practice sessions by not paying attention, playing with their phones, coming unprepared, making excuses, or not taking responsibility for their ineptitude. I also noticed that they were not interested in playing or jamming together, especially when discovering unfamiliar music or if there was no motivation or financial reward. Moreover, the relationship after the music sessions was often non-existent. It seemed that music making only happens during rehearsals or concerts.
To perform music well in an ensemble, there must be a deep sense of understanding and trust between each musician. For this, you need to be friends who are mutually interested in taking care of each other. Alas, who knows how to be a good friend in this era? How can we make music if we are not concerned about other people?
Judging by the way we preach and practice music in this country, we put most of the effort into developing and celebrating the individual, not the art itself. It's akin to training oneself to be a high-level footballer but completely neglecting the game—there's no team, no opponent, no field, no referee, and no spectators. That's definitely going for the wrong goal. And we are singing in the wrong key.
How can we remedy this issue? The short answer is there must be a paradigm shift on what music making really is. It's not about playing a musical instrument or singing. It's about what role we play in the grand scheme of things. That's the direction we should go in.