perfection

Sometimes it can be difficult to decide what to work on next, to get the most bang for the buck.  When I'm working with performing groups they often ask me if it's too early to get into the "emotional stuff" with a new piece, if they haven't even quite got the notes and words nailed down.

My short answer would be "no", but I can imagine why they might think so!  First, when you're a hammer everything looks like a nail.  Lots of performers, especially musicians, are first and foremost great technicians.  They love to fine-tune their technical skills, above all else!  Just like a bowler who spends hour after hour down at the lanes, trying to bowl strikes.  It's very "flow" - clear rules, instant feedback.  It's fun!  But bowling isn't a performance art.  I mean, people may like to watch it, but it's a sport, not an art, and the spectators aren't having to suspend disbelief.  Their expectations are rather low, in terms of the emotional depth of the experience of watching a bowling tournament.  So treating stage performance like bowling isn't the best approach.

Also there's a prevailing attitude that the "fluffy stuff" is pointless until the technique is in place.  And to some extent that's true - if you don't know the notes, you're not going to make big gains by delving deeper into the character and the objective!

However, that's not the end of the story.

Firstly, the strategy of "finishing the technique" before getting into the emotional guts of the piece is fatally flawed because the technique can never be finished.  There is no perfect.  If you wait for perfection before moving on, you will never move on.

Secondly and maybe more importantly, having a clear concept of the piece at an emotional level gives you a framework to hang all that technique on.  If you ground your musical and performance choices in the human purpose of the piece, you might actually remember those dynamics!  I wouldn't take the artistic analysis to its conclusion right away, but if you can just figure out the basics (who are you, who else is there, what's the relationship, what are the changes), you will find all that technical work will be more exciting and more efficient too.

Finally, you get a whole lot of technique "for free" when you give yourself over to the human, emotional concepts that form the purpose of the piece.  A thousand little details fall into place without discussion, springing naturally and forcefully from the scene.  And just like the tennis player who finally just watches the ball instead of obsessing on the details of their swing, letting your "self 2" take over will let you get out of your own way, letting your best technician shine through for a change.

So it's never too early.

I know a few perfectionists. You probably do too. You can tell who they are, because of a few giveaways.
They tend to be driven, high-achieving types. Obviously they tend to obsess about getting things "just so." They can be caught straightening the silverware at restaurants.

Another thing that tends to go hand in hand with perfectionism is an obsession with technique. Technical things are like candy to a perfectionist - they are pleasantly objective and measurable. And I don't want to downplay the importance of technical matters in performance. It's hard to keep an audience engaged in the story if you're singing out of tune! It's hard for a dancer to keep an audience enthralled with the story behind the movement if she falls into the orchestra pit!

If you're a perfectionist, or you know one, I want to help you. I suspect that at some level you are getting in your own way. This article is for you.

The first thing you need to grapple with is that there is no such thing as perfect. A chord can always be more in tune, better balanced. A phrase can always have a better shape. A pirouette can always be straighter. (You can probably tell from that comment that I am no dancer!)

I mean, you don't want to give up on making things technically good, but you need that 80/20 thing. That last 20% of technical perfection isn't getting you anywhere near the benefit of the first 80%, but it's much, much harder to do.

You've got to understand that technique is a means to an end, not and end in itself. Geeks in your chosen field will respect excellent technique, but the audience doesn't care about it at all - they care about the feelings you are inspiring in them. It wouldn't matter to them if you did it through flawless technique or smoke and mirrors - the experience is what they want, and how they get there makes no difference. Now if *you* are a geek in your field (and I confess that I am certainly that), you might enjoy striving for flawlessness, in the same way that some people enjoy trying to bowl 300. So go nuts - fill your boots! Just don't confuse it for something that the audience cares about.

The beautiful thing is, you don't need to be perfect even if you're trying to win a contest. You need to be just perfect enough so that the technical flaws are not distracting. You need to be good enough to let the scene shine through, and evoke emotional reactions from the audience.  This is an incredibly liberating belief, because you can save yourself a lot of time in rehearsal.  Maybe you'll be able to use some of that rehearsal time on higher-leverage activities like understanding the music, and creating high-impact scenes!

This is what I'm saying - any effort you put into technique after it's already a non-issue is wasted effort from the audience's perspective. The real pinnacle of the art form is to create a situation in which people are inclined to ignore your mistakes. And that is the topic of a future article.