Category Archives: Motivation

When Practice, Practice, Practice Isn’t the Answer

Note: This post is cross-published on my “Live…In Concert” blog on the Psychology Today website.

For many musicians, it’s a common scenario: You stand backstage about to go on, and you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your body. You may feel your chest pound, your breathing grow shallow, or a swarm of butterflies attack your stomach. As you take the stage, you notice your hands shake. It’s bad enough that you have to experience these unpleasant feelings, but you also worry that they will ruin how your music sounds onstage.

For those who’ve struggled with it, performance anxiety can seem like a fact of life. They accept it as an inevitable part of performing. And accordingly, they may come to believe that they’ll never sound in concert as good as they did in rehearsal. Performance quality—how accurate or otherwise “good” the music sounds to an audience—is paramount. So dealing with anxiety means somehow compensating for the drop-off in quality that happens onstage. “If I play it 95% well in rehearsal, but only 80% in performance,” one might think, “then if I can get it to 110% in rehearsal, I can expect 95% on stage. Right?”

From this perspective, many have advised musicians that the key to a successful performance is over-preparation. Practice your music so much that even your worst rendition still sounds pretty good. Practice so you know it incredibly well, then practice it some more so that your body will deliver it onstage without thinking, without trying. Then, according to this view, you can have utmost confidence and no reason to worry going into a performance.

I’m certainly a believer in the necessity of practice for building musical skills. But I don’t believe it is always the key to overcoming performance anxiety. In fact, I would suggest that if you can play or sing your music well in rehearsal, but not in the concert, then additional practice is a poor strategy for managing stage fright. Instead of accepting and coping with a drop-off from practice to performance, I’d recommend seeking to remove the factors that diminish quality onstage.

Psychologist Glenn Wilson has divided the sources of musical performance anxiety into three categories: the task, the situation, and the person. Many musicians and researchers, including myself, have found this model useful for understanding performers’ anxiety issues and selecting effective treatments (Klickstein, 2009; Lehmann, Sloboda & Woody, 2007, ch. 8; Wilson & Roland, 2002; Valentine, 2002). When musicians experience anxiety because they believe they’re physically incapable of playing or singing their music, then the task is the source, and additional practice is a viable treatment. However, the situation is a more likely source when worry is brought on by the conditions of a public performance. Situational factors include the presence or absence of co-performers, the makeup of the audience, and any consequences of performance (e.g., an audition or competition). The person as a source of anxiety refers to the influential role that musicians’ own thinking plays. As I mentioned in a previous post, performers’ own thought processes can be empowering or debilitating.

As prevalent as performance anxiety is, the value of diagnosing it has not seemed to catch on. More common are recommended cure-alls, ranging from the silly (“imagine your audience in their underwear”) to the simplistic (“practice, practice, practice”). Also popular are reactive strategies for confronting anxiety. Breathing and muscle relaxation exercises have been found effective for many, and some turn to beta blocking drugs. I think this reflects the fatalist attitude mentioned above, in which musicians accept anxiety as fact and resign to battling symptoms without considering what’s causing them.

A preventative approach starts with identifying the source. While practicing the musical task is undeniably important when approaching a concert, much research suggests that also very influential are the performance situation and what goes on inside the heads of musicians themselves. Here I’ll share a couple recent studies that highlight the impact these can have and the value of addressing them specifically in treatment strategies.

In a 2011 study published in the journal Psychology of Music, three researchers in the UK compared perceived performance anxiety experiences of several different types of musicians, including classical, jazz, and popular (Papageorgi, Creech & Welch, 2011). Across all of their participants, solo performance elicited more anxiety than group performance. Additionally, classical musicians tended to report higher levels of anxiety. The researchers concluded that the traditionally formal context of classical performance may create additional pressure and increase anxiety levels.

That higher anxiety is linked to solo performance (vs. group) and classical contexts (vs. more informal) has been reported in much previous research. These clearly represent situational factors. Greater mastery over one’s music (the task) through practice does not address the intense “on the spot” feeling of a public solo performance, or additional pressure that may be brought on by formal concert settings. Instead, musicians can deal with situational stress through mental rehearsals, in which they try to remain calm while vividly imagining aspects of public performance. When situational anxiety is particularly debilitating, performers may choose a program of systematic desensitization. In this treatment approach, musician carry out a series of performances, learning to control their physiological arousal while gradually progressing from least anxiety-inducing to most anxiety-inducing conditions.

In another recent study, British conservatoire students underwent a “mental skills” training program that addressed sources of anxiety within the categories of the person and the situation. Participants learned to manage anxiety through goal-setting, cognitive restructuring (changing thinking through self-talk), and vivid imagery in mental rehearsals. Compared to a control group, those who received the training experienced a significant increase in their self-efficacy (i.e., perceived competence) toward performing. The post-training comments of these musicians “revealed greater levels of self-awareness, confidence, facilitative views toward and heightened control over anxiety, and healthier perspectives toward music-making” (p. 342).

As the old joke goes, the way to get to Carnegie Hall may very well be practice, practice, practice. But it may not be the key to having performance success once onstage. What’s more, excessive practice may not lead to enjoyment of the experience. Not only can stage fright harm the musical product being presented to an audience, it can prevent musicians from enjoying performance for themselves. I would suggest that many would be better served to focus not on the quality of their music—which may just drive them to more practice—but on finding greater “in the moment” awareness and reward for themselves during performance. This may prompt them to think more carefully about the situational factors that affect their performance experience, and reexamine their thought processes during music making.

References

Clark, T., & Williamon, A. (2011). Evaluation of a mental skills training program for musicians. Journal of Applied Sport Psychology, 23(3), 342-359.

Klickstein, G. (2009). The Musician’s Way. New York: Oxford University Press.

Lehmann, A. C., Sloboda, J. A., & Woody, R. H. (2007). Psychology for musicians. New York: Oxford University Press.

Papageorgi, I., Creech, A., & Welch, G. (2011). Perceived performance anxiety in advanced musicians specializing in different musical genres. Psychology of Music. doi: 10.1177/0305735611408995

Valentine, E. (2002). The fear of performance. In J. Rink (Ed.), Musical performance: A guide to understanding (pp. 168-182). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

Wilson, G. D., & Roland, D. (2002). Performance anxiety. In R. Parncutt & G. E. McPherson (Eds.), The science and psychology of music performance (pp. 47–61). New York: Oxford University Press.

Copyright 2012 Robert H. Woody

Source of image: luxorium on Flickr Creative Commons.

Taking A Deep Musical Breath: Feeling What I Know

A few weeks ago, I had an amazing musical experience. As someone who studies music and music-making for a living, it was the kind of experience that has refreshed my outlook and ramped up my excitement. The name of my site here, “Being Musical Being Human,” reflects a deep value of mine, but I don’t actually feel it as much as I’d like. Well, a few weeks ago, I felt it, and it was quite profound.

Enough suspense…I attended my first Dave Matthews Band concert. It was intensely rewarding, and I’ve found myself thinking about it a lot since then. If you’ve been to one of their shows, then you know how compelling they can be. And if DMB isn’t your cup of tea, I’d still urge you to continue reading here. It’s taken me a few weeks to process the event for myself, and try to discover why it was so powerful. I believe that what I experienced can be of great value to musicians of all kinds.

First a little background. My good friend Mike is a huge fan of the Dave Matthews Band. A while back he told me that he was taking me to a DMB concert…July 2012 at the Alpine Valley amphitheater in East Troy, WI. The drive from Nebraska to Wisconsin wouldn’t be too bad, he assured me, and it would be totally worth it to see this great live band do an outdoor concert. I was somewhat familiar with DMB, but I wouldn’t say I really knew them. It was more like I knew of  them. I knew they were made up of good musicians and were known for live performing. So I figured it’d be good for me to go.

Before I left for the road trip with Mike, I resolved that I would not approach it like a music scholar. I would do my best to exit that part of my self. I was traveling away from home—and not for a conference this time!—and was confident that I wouldn’t run into anyone who’d greet me with a “Hey Dr. Woody.” So I decided to try to experience it like a regular person, if only for Mike’s sake…seriously, who’d want to hit a concert with me prattling on about cognitive translation of imagery-based music instruction, or some such thing?

It was a beautiful 75 degrees the night that Mike and I were joined by 30-some thousand of our closest friends on the concert grounds. I think the whole scene allowed me to take in the show like a normal person.  Well, kind of. I did a good job of behaving like the throngs of concertgoers who packed into the amphitheater. Honestly I had a blast. I cheered, clapped, danced and sang along. But as I’ve reflected on the show since then, I realize I was able to experience—really feel—some of the wonderful things about music that I often teach, research, and advocate to others. It’s difficult to pick exact adjectives to describe it, but the words personal, emotional, and soulful are in the ballpark. In a deeply meaningful way, it reinforced a number of things that define the heart of music as I understand it.

First, the musical breadth of the Dave Matthews Band is inspiring to me. Not many rock bands include a violinist, trumpeter, and saxophone player, to go along with their guitars, bass, and drums. All of the DMB musicians have impressive credentials spanning the styles of jazz, classical, and a broad range of vernacular music styles (e.g., funk, hiphop, country, bluegrass). That July evening, it meant a lot to me as a trumpeter, to hear Rashawn Ross’s extended Harmon-muted solo on the song “Loving Wings” early in the concert. When he quoted the jazz standard “St. Thomas”—one of my favorites in my younger days—I felt like he was playing to me personally! (You can hear it at the 4:24 point in this recording.) Also at the concert, a surprise special guest was guitarist Stanley Jordan. He is known for his innovative guitar techniques and the mixing and blurring of musical genres. In fact on his website, he speaks passionately about his “belief in the integrationist spirit of music.” As impressed as I am with musicians who specialize and become excellent in one style of music, I’m flat amazed at those who explore more of the entire world of music and grow from it.

At the concert I was also reminded how many things go into the powerful experience of live music. I’m talking about everything from the visual aspects of performance and the musicians’ physical interactions onstage, to the open-air venue of the concert and the almost palpable adoration of the crowd. I call these kinds of things para-musical factors (rather than extra-musical) because I believe they are necessarily part of live music making and just as affecting as the musical sounds heard. As I’ve come to find out, live performance is what the Dave Matthews Band is all about. Having been together since the early 90s, the group has released a mere seven studio albums; only a handful of their songs have entered the top 20 of any Billboard US chart. In contrast, they’ve recorded nearly 50 live albums and have remained one of the most popular and prolific touring bands over the last two decades. Unlike many other musicians whose natural environment seems to be a practice room or recording studio, the DMB guys are in their element when playing live. Their collaboration is so much more than the combining of their individual parts. Their spontaneous communication with each other onstage is also enhanced by their interaction with the audience. Those in the crowd also become music-makers, constantly dancing, clapping, and singing along. This appeals to me incredibly. It’s one thing to appreciate great performance by musical experts, but when so-called “non-musicians” freely sing and make music together…well, that really fires me up!

The final moments of the concert for me were by far the most special to me. It was so evident that the musicians in the Dave Matthews Band really enjoy making music together. These guys were not obligated to play for nearly four hours that night, but they did. And in the final encore, they carried out a joy-filled cover of  “Thank You Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin” (an old Sly and the Family Stone song with an intentional mondegreen title). As you can see for yourself in the video below, they had a lot of fun doing it. My favorite part was when Dave was practically overcome by the need to dance. He shed his guitar—which Stanley Jordan grabbed for himself—in order to better twist and strut around the stage! And perhaps this is my biggest take-home lesson from the DMB concert that I felt so deeply: from the audience perspective, there is nothing better than taking in a live performance of musicians who unmistakably love what they’re doing.

Image sources: Fire dancer image from DMB album Stand Up. Rashawn Ross pic from The Saratogian (photo by Ed Burke).

When Desire Is Found Wanting

Note: This post is cross-published on my “Live…In Concert” blog on the Psychology Today website.

Some people can work a job they hate for years, and even make a career of it. But I think it’s rare for someone in the arts to last long without some measure of love for their work. Many professional musicians can recall a “love at first sight” (or “…sound”) experience during childhood which started a lifelong infatuation with music. As young people develop their performance skills, there’s no substitute for their own enjoyment and interest in music. In many ways, intrinsic motivation—the simple desire to do something for its own sake—is the most important ingredient in long-term musical success.

Of course not all aspects of music performance are desirable. Musicians often find themselves competing for positions, gigs, and other performance opportunities (e.g., recording contracts). Though the successes in these ventures can be exhilarating, the failures can take their toll. Also, some performance activities involve heavy doses of criticism and being judged by others. The stressful aspects of real-life can chip away at a simple love of the art and the desire to “make it” in music. Young musicians may even question whether they belong in music, thinking, “I didn’t know that something so fun could end up being so hard.”

Such conditions can put pressure on musicians to improve their skills as much and as quickly as possible. And nothing can be more disenchanting to a music-loving performer than the need to practice. When it comes to “what works” for skill improvement, there’s a certain kind of practice that psychologists have identified as the key contributor to growth in performance skills. This deliberate practice is defined as being (1) effortful and concentration-heavy, (2) done in isolation, and (3) focused on deficiencies in performance (Ericsson & Lehmann, 1999). As such, practicing really cannot be intrinsically motivating to many people…it’s hard, it’s lonely, and forces you to think about your shortcomings! But, it is the way that musicians most efficiently build their skills.

I’m not suggesting that practice must be unpleasant to be effective. Musicians’ attitude heading into practice sessions can make a big difference. If they dwell on the effort involved and can’t shake the thought that they’d rather be doing something else, then their practice may be tough sledding. But with a mindset of discovery and the goal of learning something new, they will likely exit the session having improved and feeling glad they put in the time (consider checking out my previous post “Learning to Love Practice…And Other Virtually Impossible Feats”). In terms of enjoyment, however, practice really can’t compete with other activities such as jamming with friends and taking part in a group production for an enthusiastic audience. But not only does deliberate practice provide greater musical growth, it allows you to better enjoy the rewards of these other activities.

So practice is almost always extrinsically motivated. It’s not done for the sake of it, but for the rewards that come from having done it. These are often emotional rewards that come with musical participation (see Woody & McPherson, 2010). Musical children gain much from the encouragement of parents and teachers. Young people who persist in music—whether school ensembles or garage bands—often do so because of peer support. And what musician is not driven to practice by an impending concert? The extrinsic rewards of music involvement can make the necessity of practice more palatable to performers.

Extrinsic motivators can be so present and effective that they become internalized by musicians. Prominent motivation researchers Edward Deci & Richard Ryan have advanced a Self-Determination Theory, which can be used to explain how musicians come to accept the hard work of practice (Ryan & Deci, 2000). They describe extrinsic motivation as having four levels, progressing from external to internal. Here’s how I apply the theory to musicians and practice:

  1. External regulation – “I have to practice” – Shows compliance; done purely to obtain rewards and avoid punishments.
  2. Introjected regulation – “I ought to practice” – Shows self-control; done to enjoy feelings of pride and avoid feelings of guilt.
  3. Identified regulation – “I need to practice” – Shows valuing; done because the benefits are personally important.
  4. Integrated regulation – “I practice” – Shows adoption; done because it is has been assimilated into one’s identity.

It’s very important to note that even when extrinsic motivation has been fully internalized (integrated regulation), it does not result in musicians thinking “I want to practice.” It does, however, have them practicing as a regular part of life. They likely no longer wonder if they should practice, or how they’ll find time to do it with all the other things going on. With apologies to Nike…they just do it.

Below is a great quote from concert pianist André Watts, which shows his progression through the levels of extrinsic motivation to practice (I added labels in parentheses):

I wouldn’t be a pianist today if my mother hadn’t made me practice (external)….On days when I wasn’t exactly moved to practice, my mother saw to it that I did. Sometimes she tried coaxing me to the piano by relating the careers of famous musicians, hoping perhaps to inspire me to practice (introjected). At thirteen, however, I realized the necessity of practice (identified). I still don’t really “like” it all the time, but by now it has become second nature (integrated). (Mach, 1980, p. 182)

I love the term “second nature” that Watts used to describe his practicing. Second nature refers to a behavior that has become so routine, it seems instinctive. There are many music making behaviors that are “first nature”—meaning, they’re inherently gratifying—but practicing isn’t one of them.

More recently, I came across an interview in Newsweek with jazz bassist and singer Esperanza Spalding, who won the Grammy Award for Best New Artist in 2011. An “everyday, diligent, warrior-like mentality” is how she described her approach to practice. “If it’s four hours, just get up and do your four hours,” she told The Daily Beast. “I really like that. It’s liberating somehow.” I suspect that what she feels liberated from is any deliberation about whether or not to practice.

Anyone who’s seen André Watts or Esperanza Spalding perform knows that they love music. It’s sustained them through the rigors of their training and demanding performance schedules. But they’ve also accepted the hard work of musicianship. I think this balance is key. People cannot be practice robots that pound away at only the most challenging skill-builder etudes. But, on the other hand, aspiring musicians will not go far only doing what’s musically fun. Performers should seek to experience the rewards that practice brings, knowing that greater skill empowers them. It frees their attention from producing their own performance to things like exploring new artistic possibilities and interacting more deeply with co-performers. As they more become convinced of these things, practice can become a less onerous and more automatic part of life. And one that can provide considerable payoff in the end.

References

Ericsson, K. A., & Lehmann, A. C. (1999). Expertise. In M. A. Runco & S. R. Pritzker (Eds.), Encyclopedia of creativity (Vol. 1, pp. 695–707). New York: Academic Press.

Mach, E. (1980). Great pianists speak for themselves. New York: Dodd, Mead and Company.

Ryan, R. M., & Deci, E. L. (2000). Self-determination theory and the facilitation of intrinsic motivation, social development, and well-being. American Psychologist, 55, 68-78.

Woody, R. H., & McPherson, G. E. (2010). Emotion and motivation in the lives of performers. In P. N. Juslin & J. A. Sloboda (Eds.), Handbook of music and emotion: Theory, research, applications (pp. 401-424). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

Copyright 2012 Robert H. Woody

Source of image: PuroJazz on Flickr Creative Commons