The Most Challenging Musical Quest – Part 3

In the first two parts of this series I have shared with you the various challenges I have faced in my musical and personal life, yet as challenging as they may have been, what remains to be done will perhaps be the most challenging: figuring out who I am at this moment and having the courage to be that person in front of others.

I remember a time a few years ago when I asked multi-instrumentalist Joe Craven if he ever felt awkward playing multiple instruments at the same time, as he often plays percussion with hands while “mouthing” other percussion sounds, while switching to mandolin and fiddle. By “awkward”, I meant that I, too, could do that to an extent, but had felt like I was showing off or bragging in doing so.

I clearly remember his response: “No,” followed by a gesture that indicated that that was a silly question. I don’t know why I was reluctant to display my talents, particularly considering how much time I had spent developing them. Perhaps it was an old pledge I made to myself back in High School where, after witnessing a friend’s constant bragging, I swore I would never do that, preferring others to speak highly of me rather than myself.

Joe’s words and reaction stayed with me. But there is a difference between bragging and simply “being.” I do have skills I have developed, so why not display them?

I didn’t really think of it much after speaking with Joe, but little by little, I “allowed” myself to do whatever I wanted onstage (and off.) His friendly dismissal of my question gave me permission to be my own awesome self. And that’s what we all need in life to excel, to strive, to fly free of other people’s opinions.

This makes me wonder what else I may be holding back when I perform:
Am I able to be emotionally vulnerable? Some songs need tenderness; some need power.
Am I able to have a powerful presence onstage? Superstars aren’t afraid to use the entire stage, either physically or energetically; imagine Prince, Santana, James Brown, Beyonce…

I must remember – it’s a show! We are supposed to be larger than real life! We are supposed to create an ambiance, a space where the audience can participate in a fantasy of sorts if even for a few minutes. Actors on stage are never “themselves” – they are playing a role and we buy into that for the duration of the production.

That, dear readers, is my most challenging musical quest – to be able to be bigger than I am onstage, whether it be a simple open-mic or a full blown stage show. And though I mentioned some pretty outrageous superstars, there are many more laid-back performers, too. The point is, that we – you and I – have every right to develop our uniqueness and confidently present that quality when performing, whether you are just starting out or have been doing it for years (decades) as I have.

And I have a feeling that this path never ends – we simply get on it and, step by step, advance.

Please comment if you have any thoughts about this concept. Have you felt awkward being yourself? Why? What did you do about it? Knowing we are not alone is a comfort and motivator.

Thank you.

The Most Challenging Musical Quest – Part 1

My last article, which spoke of the many analogies I employ in talking about music, prompted a comment and question from PT, a former student, friend, and budding songstress who asked me to offer my thoughts about the emotional aspect of performing and communicating with an audience. I am happy to oblige – read on:



By far, the most challenging and elusive aspect of playing and performing music has not been in the acquiring of information such as theory and rhythm, but in the accessing of my deepest emotions – for once I had learned a few basic chords and strumming patterns, I had at my disposal the tools to say something; to share something of myself… but what would that something be?

Granted – after nearly 55 years of music study – I have learned a lot of musical information: chords, rhythms, and theory. I have been fortunate to play with some true music legends and through the act of recording, I have learned a considerable amount of technical knowledge about music and composition. Yet the challenge that lies ahead of me is the reckoning of my lifetime; my childhood experiences; the insecurities of young adulthood; the trials and errors of daily living; and my current acceptance of who I am. Acknowledging my personal history and playing music from that perspective is what will allow me to better connect to others as a unique performer. And being a unique performer is my goal, for when we strive to simply copy or mimic a true artist, we are mired in a pool of competition and comparisons. It is only by discovering our individual qualities that we can escape that trap.

It is doubtful that in describing a musical legend, you compare them to another: “Oh, Jimi Hendrix sounded just like…,” or “Doesn’t Bob Dylan sound like…?” “I like listening to Billie Holiday because she sang just like…”

I am confident in saying that these legends were certainly influenced by others, but at some point they had to abandon the path their role model walked and discover their own.

I might offer you my own example of this: as a young guitarist, I fell in love with the playing of Carlos Santana and dedicated many years of learning his solos note for note, reading everything I could about him, and I even had the pleasure of meeting him at his home, (followed by him presenting me with backstage passes for an upcoming show at The Greek Theater in Berkeley.) And as I, too, am of Mexican heritage, I felt a strong connection with him and his music. I felt I would do anything he asked of me and it was that dedication to his teachings that I encountered the first of what continues to challenge me: he said (and I paraphrase) “you need to be unique and not copy others.” I felt this to be a bittersweet “adios” to my musical guru, for as much as I admired him and felt he spoke for me, I had to strike out on my own and find my voice instead of trying to emulate his.

So now what?

I can only offer you my own story as to how you might progress, as I am certain that a dozen artists would give you a dozen unique perspectives. Please consider my input here as a mere suggestion of how to blaze your own artistic path.

Redefine yourself.

Our self-image can help define ourselves and keep us true to our path, but a perceived self-image can hold us back as well. Holding on to statements such as “I am not good at…,” “Oh, I could never…,” or “I’d be too embarrassed to…” are the kind of emotional contracts that hold us to what may or may not have at some time, been true, but that don’t represent how we might have subtlety changed, or wish to change.

Another set of personal examples happened when I lived in San Francisco in the 90s. I moved there on a whim to see how life was outside of my hometown of Santa Cruz, 75 miles to the south. Living near the Haight-Ashbury area, I somehow came to want to wear a black leather jacket and heavy black leather boots – something far from the well-worn Levis and flannel shirts I was accustomed to. How strange I felt wearing this “costume” – and felt as though everyone could see that that wasn’t who I really was. But it was just a costume – much like the Levis and flannel – it was just something I was wearing. It didn’t define me and I could put it on or take it off at any time. But it took me quite awhile to get used to it.

Around that same time I began playing percussion with a band that played an exotic blend of Middle Eastern and hippy-tribal music. My given name, Ron, didn’t seem very exotic to me and I thought I might find another name for myself, but I liked my name and thought about how I might keep it while changing it at the same time. I was, also at that time, taking a course at the Ali Akbar Khan College of Music in San Rafael, learning to play tabla. Khan… I thought. Perhaps I could simply spell my name differently. Rhan… that’s it. A simple spelling change, yet though my name sounded the same, it was new, and I could rewrite my story to accommodate my new persona. While the old Ron was a bit insecure and adverse to change, the new Rhan was a performer and unafraid to try new things. While the old Ron once was uncomfortable wearing a bright blue set of sweatpants (as opposed to the usual grey), the new Rhan would wear anything – and did. Such a simple trick of the mind I discovered that day.

Change your name – if even for a day.

I have often suggested in the workshops I teach, that we experiment with a “stage” name – either a simple spelling change like mine, or an alter ego – anything that can help to expand your boundaries. You can even refer to yourself in the third person: “[Your name] has no problem performing in front of other people. In fact, [your name] will be surprising everyone soon with the confidence and creativity they are finding in themselves.” No one has to witness this experiment of yours, so there is nothing to lose. It’s just a way to begin to see yourself embodying some of the traits you wish you had.

All this has been about allowing yourself to perform; to express yourself.

Now that you have, hopefully, given yourself permission to even consider performing and expressing yourself by way of song or other display, what is it that you are going to do? You have before you eager ears to learn about you and what makes you tick.

You may feel pressured to do something amazing and quite out of your league, but consider this: being yourself is something you’ve been doing your whole life. The only “new” thing you are now doing is to “frame” it in the form of a presentation for others to witness and you, as the expert on your own life, needn’t worry. You will do just fine.

Stay tuned for Part 2

Some Teachers are Too Eager to Please

“I am so happy to be here in the air flying with you,” said the eager co-pilot. “You know, I have been taking lessons for years now from a very skilled pilot who has been teaching me all about the history of the airplane, its construction, and the various manufacturers who have been building models like this one we are in, as well as others. Learning to fly has always been a dream for me.”

“Excellent, “ replied the pilot. “How about you take the yoke for awhile and guide us over these farms towards that airstrip in the distance; you can land us there.”

“Oh goodness no,” gasped the co-pilot. “I haven’t learned that yet. My teacher has only been teaching me about airplanes; not how to actually fly one.”

To my amazement, I find that many music teachers are too eager to please the student in their requests, but as the student is often ignorant of the order in which would best serve their aspirations, they ask to be taught step 5 when in fact they have not learned steps 1-4.

“I want to learn theory,” the student asks, assuming this is the goal to which all musicians aspire.

Further assuming the student knows the necessary basics, the teacher is pleased to grant the request and begins the teaching of theory; the primarily left-brained detailia of the facts and intricacies of music thinking and processing.

But, to change analogies, the most detailed and extravagant home designed by the most brilliant of architects, must still be built upon the proper foundation or else it will suffer collapse and ruin upon the first steps taken therein. And it is this foundation: perhaps the least interesting of the entire building endeavor… it is this very foundation that is the most important of the entire project. This is where the building begins.

And so with music, the most important skill to first learn is to play simply and on the beat; with a sense of what that beat is.

Would one attempt to teach a toddler how to execute a cartwheel without first teaching the little tyke how to walk?

And so I encounter these committed and studious musicians who can talk intervals and modes in detail, and yet cannot play a simple rhythm with any confidence or understanding.  This, I feel, is a great injustice to the student who, not knowing what to ask for, was given what they thought they needed; and the teacher, wishing to accommodate their pupil, gives them what they asked for rather than helping them build that musical foundation they need in order to utilize that advanced knowledge.

Now I ask that you please understand my position here: learn anything you want, but realize that in order to actually play music with others, there has to be a balance between the left brain and the right; the facts and the feel, the yin and the yang. When musicians get together to play, whether casually or in a formal setting, they may speak of modes and intervals, but it’s certain they already know how to count and adjust their playing as needed.

Decide for yourself whether you wish to play music, or to simply talk about it.

Playing Music with a Microwave

A lot of people come to me for music lessons and what I have learned is that I must first ask of them this question: “Do you want to learn to play music, or do you want to be able to just heat something up in the microwave?”

Now that I’ve possibly confused you with this horrible mixed metaphor – allow me to explain: If one were to take a cooking class, it’s doubtful that a good teacher would spend much time, if any, on how to take a package out of the freezer, place it in the microwave, and serve it. Instead, the student would learn a variety of basics: how to use measuring utensils, proper knife techniques, doubling portions, etc.; beginning with simple recipes, moving on to more sophisticated ones, and eventually learning to create sumptuous meals from scratch.

So when a student comes to me with the goal of learning how to play their favorite song or play along with their weekend community sing-along, I start them off with the basics: how to count in time, basic chords, simple charts/songsheets; incorporating little bits of theory and knowledge along the way – all towards the goal of teaching them to play “from scratch” – that is, being able to play along with others with or without music to follow.

But they often lose interest and are discouraged because they thought that, somehow, there were shortcuts they could use to avoid having to learn; that there were the equivalents of “microwave-ready” music skills they could master in a few minutes that would require little or no effort that they could use in all situations forever.

Playing music doesn’t really work that way.

Take conversing, for instance: you can’t really learn a few stock sentences and simply place them into a conversation and expect them to make sense every time. As children beginning to talk, we learn how to substitute words and to change from past to future tense as needed. Each conversation is unique and we must be able to keep up with what’s being said.

And so it is with playing music. You simply can’t learn a trick of two and expect to use it in all situations. Tempos change, arrangements vary, and unexpected hiccups occur, even in a well rehearsed number.

But these are not difficult challenges. If you learn the basics, adjusting your tempo mid song is as easy as adding a teaspoon of water to thin out a sauce. That difficult sounding chord you’ve been avoiding? You just may find out it’s a simple as adding a little Dijon mustard to a sauce you already know how to make.

There’s nothing wrong with “zapping” a burrito now and then, but when you’ve taken the time to learn to gather a few items from the fridge, add a bit of seasoning, and cook them up into a delicious, satisfying meal – there’s nothing like it.

And when you pick up your favorite instrument, strum a few chords, and make up a song (or figure out an existing one) – you won’t believe the joy and sense of satisfaction you will feel.

Take your foot off the brakes!

(An expanded and/or edited version of this post appears in Rhan’s new book, All In Good Time – a Book About Playing Music for the Aspiring Ukulele Player. It is available at: www.rhanwilson.com/allingoodtime )

So often I have been asked to help someone learn something about music: new chords, strumming, singing, etc., but almost always the first thing they say to me (and often repeated throughout the lesson) is something to the effect of, “I can’t do this.”

There are countless variations to these negations; sometimes they say, “I am horrible at rhythm,” or they will constantly shake their head at the mere mention of a new term they hadn’t heard before.

Now I understand the tendency to want to “warn” me of one’s problem areas, but c’mon – it’s like asking me to help you push your car and having your foot on the brakes! Not only is it not necessary, but it actually prohibits me from helping you.

If you want to learn something, you have to take your metaphorical foot off the brakes and HELP PUSH! That’s right – aim yourself in the direction you want to go, and push! And just like a car – it’s a little hard at first, but as you gain some momentum, it gets easier and easier.

This is always the first thing I teach people, and it often takes up a good portion of the first (and subsequent) lesson/s, because I have found that once I can get my student to “get their foot off their brakes” – then the actual learning of material proceeds rather easily.

We have all formed some bad habits. I, too, have to always watch what, and how, I phrase things.

Here are some suggestions:

Instead of saying:  “I am no good at….”
Say: “I wasn’t good at…”
Or: “I haven’t been good at…”

Instead of saying: “I can’t……”
Say: “I will try to…..”
Or better yet: “I can…..”

Instead of saying:  “I have no rhythm.”
Say:  “I’d like to improve my rhythm.”
Or: “I am improving on my rhythm.”

These are subtle changes, and you might not think them that important, but they make a HUGE difference in how we learn. By simply stating our intentions in the positive, we have effectively taken off the brake and are free to move in the desired direction.

Now, what was it you wanted help with?