Friday, September 25, 2020

Fluency - Musical and Linguistic

 For as long as I remember thinking about it at all, I have been interested in comparing music to language. For me, they are competing areas, though I realize that for most people they go together easily: people sing words to music and feel that the music adds to the words and vice versa. I find that when I am deeply involved with words, which is most of the time, as I'm a translator, music suffers. I hear music while I work. It plays in the background. But I don't pay it proper attention. Mea culpa.

Learning a second language was particularly deleterious to my musical progress. In high school, when I started to study French, I was enthralled by the language and put great effort into learning it well, because it was important to me - importance that I can't entirely explain to myself, and playing clarinet became less important to me. A moment comes when you're acquiring a new language when you begin to be fluent in it, when you stop translating from it into your native language, when you can read it with increasing ease, and when you can speak it without getting tangled up in it. That moment doesn't mean that you've mastered the language, but that you're dealing with it in new terms: fluency. You can be fluent in a language and speak it badly, with a poor accent, making a lot of grammatical errors, but at least you're able to use the language.

Learning to play a musical instrument is very similar. For a long time you're learning the fingering and other aspects of technique, and suddenly you can simply play the instrument without thinking about how you're doing it. For a long time I have been at that stage in the instruments I first studied, clarinet and saxophone, but flute wasn't easy for me, probably because I started playing it late in life. Now, and I'm not sure exactly when it happened, I play flute with fluency similar to my sax playing (I don't play clarinet often), which also means that it's more fun to play, less stumbling, less groping.

Playing fluently doesn't necessarily mean playing well, certainly not playing perfectly, but it's a necessary step toward those higher goals. Of course, when I am learning a new piece, I always come upon passages that are difficult for me, and I have to slow down and work on them. This also happens to me when I'm translating. Sometimes I run into a passage with difficult syntax or unfamiliar vocabulary, and I have to move through it slowly and attentively. But the basic fluency is there, the connection between what I hear in my mind and what I play. Working on a difficult passage teaches me how to hear it.

For most music teachers playing fluently is second nature and probably not in their minds as they work with pupils. That's regrettable. I've never taught music and wouldn't be comfortable doing it, but, were I a music teacher, I would work on fluency, so that playing one's instrument is like speaking one's native language.

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

Chega de Saudade

 Recently I've been practicing Chega de Saudade, a famous bossa nova song by Jobim. The English title of the song is "No More Blues," but the Portuguese means Enough (chega) of Missing (saudade). I am not very good at playing bossa nova rhythms. When I listen to to bossa nova, I'm constantly impressed by the musicians' relaxation as they play complicated syncopations without audible effort, while I have to count carefully and think about alternating from notes that are off the beat to notes that are on it. Incidentally, until the very moment when I read the article about bossa nova, I thought that "bossa" meant bass, that it was a new kind of bass. That was wrong.

When I was in high school, I had a radio on a shelf in the headboard of my bed. Almost every night, when my parents thought I had gone to sleep, I used to listen to an all-night jazz program on WEVD, hosted by Mort Fega. I didn't understand what was going on in the music, but I loved the sound. I vividly remember the night that I first heard bossa nova. Fega played Stan Getz's performance of the Girl from Ipanema three or four times, because he was so bowled over by the novelty of it.

I never thought I'd be able to play jazz or bossa nova. At the time, I was learning how to play classical music on the clarinet. Secretly listening to late-night radio was about as close as I could get to following a musical passion, being the uptight kid I was.