Banjo as Milepost

So today, I slowed down, played things I like, and all went swimmingly.  By the end of the second hour (first hour at lunchtime, second after dinner) I felt in control.  I'm almost back to where I was, a few steps down the road and a lot of miles to cover.  And to paraphrase a favorite song of mine, I'll know I'm there when I get there.  I am sure there'll be a lot to see along the way.  ("It will be hard, I know, and the road will be muddy and rough but we'll get there, heaven knows when we will get there, we know we will.")

I've been mulling over some ideas that came to me while considering the "I don't get..." series of threads on the message boards recently.  What is a perfect player?  Is there such a thing?  Can we define "perfect" in this instance? 

There's much to be said about technical excellence.  I think we all aspire to it, because the technique is the tool that allows us to create.  My dad always says that a carpenter is only as good as his tools, and that's true--if we define tools in this instance as the physical actions that we perform in order to make music.  Let's face it, it's not about the instrument itself.  There are players out there that could make five rubber bands stretched over a cigar box sing.  I do not think that technical perfection is achievable in the purest sense.  There are too many variables--instrument, anatomical differences, personal history, cultural influence.  But we all know banjoists who are approaching perfection as technicians.

Then there's talent.  Imagine if Mr. Ma had handed his son a golf club and Mr. Woods had handed his son a cello.  By whatever set of circumstances, these boys were given the tools that enabled them to discover and develop their natural talents.  And talent is a leg up, no matter what field.  Talent discovered early in life, while the brain is still soaking up information like a sponge, is a big leg up.  But I also think that talent only changes the level of the playing field for a short while.  There's no reason that anyone with enough determination, practice, work, and time can't make up for lack of talent and level the field again. 

So that brings us to the elusive quality of performance that separates the artists from the craftsmen.  We call it expression, or heart, or feeling.  It's a lot like porn--hard to define, but you know it when you see it.  I define "art" as a creative work that evokes an emotional response.  So this unnamed quality is best defined by how it effects an audience.  It's important to keep in mind that audiences are people, too, and bring their own personal experiences to any sort of artistic performance.  Because we are all different, our responses will all be different.  When we collectively arrive at a group response (think crowds of screaming, swooning fans at Beatles' concerts in 1964) are we really responding at all to the art?  Or are we swept up in a mob mentality that makes us respond to each other instead?  I don't know.  I am not sure anyone can know.  What I do know is that art is not science, in that creativity can't be measured.  Which is a very good thing, in my opinion. 

Banjo as Straightman

Leftovers

Homecoming

Back to Basics for Both of Us

Thankful?

There Are No Small Victories

Banished!

The Blink of a Proverbial Eye

Keeping on Keeping on

Life takes bad turns

Banjo as Transition

Apple Butter Addendum

Banjo as Security Blanket

Banjo as Invisible

Banjo as Balance

Banjo as Common Ground

Banjo as Routine

Banjo as Jungle Background

Banjo as Subtlety