Flute comfort food
Now that I'm not playing piccolo with a purpose anymore, I'm at a loss as to what to practice. I'm keeping up my piccolo chops because I want to be ready anytime I'm needed. My highest notes are coming out with ease, simply because I'm working those muscles. Use 'em or lose 'em. Works for athletes, works for musicians.
Last week, I pulled out an old etude book, and it was one where my high school band director had gotten most, if not all, of our flute audition music from. They were nice tunes and I played through a few of them. This week, I decided to pull out some old solos and things, just something for me to work on, and discovered a binder that had those old excerpts and IMEA scale sheets and things. Oh, this is delightful. Perfect.
There's something about playing stuff you've already learned, even if it was decades ago, that's just sort of homey and like musical chicken soup. It's reliable. You don't have to think about it; you can just do it. I suppose it's like knitting: Once you get the stitch pattern down, you can just go and let your hands do their thing while you watch TV, say. When the muscle memory is in there from having practiced something decently years ago, you don't have to think as hard. It's just enjoyable. You know you can do it and you won't be struggling through it. I'm not playing the music for the purpose of learning it solidly. I want to play it well, sure, but I just want to play. It's purely the act of playing this little instrument to keep my skills up. And, just like when you eat something good that you haven't had a chance to eat recently, it whets your appetite to come back for more, and I'm looking forward to playing more of it in the coming weeks. It's surprisingly energizing, given that piccolo gets saved to the end of my practice sessions.
Last week, I pulled out an old etude book, and it was one where my high school band director had gotten most, if not all, of our flute audition music from. They were nice tunes and I played through a few of them. This week, I decided to pull out some old solos and things, just something for me to work on, and discovered a binder that had those old excerpts and IMEA scale sheets and things. Oh, this is delightful. Perfect.
There's something about playing stuff you've already learned, even if it was decades ago, that's just sort of homey and like musical chicken soup. It's reliable. You don't have to think about it; you can just do it. I suppose it's like knitting: Once you get the stitch pattern down, you can just go and let your hands do their thing while you watch TV, say. When the muscle memory is in there from having practiced something decently years ago, you don't have to think as hard. It's just enjoyable. You know you can do it and you won't be struggling through it. I'm not playing the music for the purpose of learning it solidly. I want to play it well, sure, but I just want to play. It's purely the act of playing this little instrument to keep my skills up. And, just like when you eat something good that you haven't had a chance to eat recently, it whets your appetite to come back for more, and I'm looking forward to playing more of it in the coming weeks. It's surprisingly energizing, given that piccolo gets saved to the end of my practice sessions.