The Pleasure of Practicing: A Musician’s Account of Overcoming Impostor Syndrome(brainpickings.org)
brainpickings.org
The Pleasure of Practicing: A Musician’s Account of Overcoming Impostor Syndrome
http://www.brainpickings.org/2015/01/07/glenn-kurtz-practicing/
27 comments
A big takeaway:
This article tells a great story about overcoming certain hangups about one's ability, but never touches on talent not being matched to an audience. In some industries it's not what you know, but who you know, and the context. Take for example that famous experiment with Joshua Bell playing the violin in DC Metro Station: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UM21gPmkDpI Nobody even noticed, and having known it was Joshua Bell, they certainly would have. Practicing all alone with a musical instrument in my bedroom is no more exaltation than it is a mismatch of talent and audience. If anything my neighbor will be filing a noise complaint...
It's not really about audience but about context. There is a reason why something is music to a whole generation of kids while their parents think it sounds like noise.
Last paragraph is nice:
> I sit down to practice the fullness of my doubts and desire, my fantasies and flaws. Each day I follow them as far as I can bear it, for now. This is what teaches me my limits; this is what enables me to improve. I think it is the same with anything you seriously practice, anything you deeply love.
More than work, with time you see it as a journey. You try something and you see how it goes. Experience just slowly builds a map of that weird space we call art.
> I sit down to practice the fullness of my doubts and desire, my fantasies and flaws. Each day I follow them as far as I can bear it, for now. This is what teaches me my limits; this is what enables me to improve. I think it is the same with anything you seriously practice, anything you deeply love.
More than work, with time you see it as a journey. You try something and you see how it goes. Experience just slowly builds a map of that weird space we call art.
> And I struggle to harmonize them, to find my way between them, uncertain whether this work is worth it or a waste of my time.
I don't know I think I would say pick something to do in life that, even if you never achieve that mastery, you never regret a single moment spent doing it, because it was awesome.
I don't know I think I would say pick something to do in life that, even if you never achieve that mastery, you never regret a single moment spent doing it, because it was awesome.
One word: Practice time - By Mr Positivity https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SlCRfTmBSGs
So if he doesn't get to play Carnegie Hall, he just ups and drops the whole thing? Yeah, well, welcome to the topsy-turvy world of rock and roll. I'll admit I only skimmed it, because the opening came across as whiny, but I guess the gist is that practicing should be taken as a pleasure unto itself. Well, duh. If you don't like playing your instrument for its own sake, I would guess you'd never make it as a pro regardless of your skill.
It became evident at an early age that I was not the next Jimmy Page. That didn't keep me from continuing with the guitar for the next forty years. Oh, I've been paid for my playing from time to time, but I'd never make a living at it. Just like the huge numbers of musicians who are far, far better than I'll ever dream to be: they can't make a living at it, either. It's a tough business. Oh, you had to go be an editorial assistant? Hey, beats waiting tables, which is what even more skilled musicians are doing every day in cities around the world.
There is no danger of anyone paying to hear me play the mandolin I bought this year, either. Doesn't stop me from playing the hell out of it. I like playing it, knowing I'll never make a dime off doing so. I've not even concluded that I'll ever be any good at it, let alone paid. But my wife doesn't mind my playing (that she says, anyway), I like it, so I'll stick with it.
The imposter syndrome part I never got (I might have skimmed the article, but I specifically looked for that). How can a musician have imposter syndrome? Developers, eh, I may not find out for a month or two that they suck (which is what "imposters" worry about). A musician? Pick up that Fender, knock out _Crossroads_ for me, we'll find out really quick whether you're any good.
(Feel free to down vote me for mouthing off about an article I barely read, I probably deserve it. I'll take the hit, but frankly what I read was whiny and kind of boring/obvious, yet I couldn't let it go without comment.)
It became evident at an early age that I was not the next Jimmy Page. That didn't keep me from continuing with the guitar for the next forty years. Oh, I've been paid for my playing from time to time, but I'd never make a living at it. Just like the huge numbers of musicians who are far, far better than I'll ever dream to be: they can't make a living at it, either. It's a tough business. Oh, you had to go be an editorial assistant? Hey, beats waiting tables, which is what even more skilled musicians are doing every day in cities around the world.
There is no danger of anyone paying to hear me play the mandolin I bought this year, either. Doesn't stop me from playing the hell out of it. I like playing it, knowing I'll never make a dime off doing so. I've not even concluded that I'll ever be any good at it, let alone paid. But my wife doesn't mind my playing (that she says, anyway), I like it, so I'll stick with it.
The imposter syndrome part I never got (I might have skimmed the article, but I specifically looked for that). How can a musician have imposter syndrome? Developers, eh, I may not find out for a month or two that they suck (which is what "imposters" worry about). A musician? Pick up that Fender, knock out _Crossroads_ for me, we'll find out really quick whether you're any good.
(Feel free to down vote me for mouthing off about an article I barely read, I probably deserve it. I'll take the hit, but frankly what I read was whiny and kind of boring/obvious, yet I couldn't let it go without comment.)
Just regarding the imposter syndrome aspect of your comment:
But isn't the thing about imposter syndrome that it's not about whether YOU think the musician is good, but whether THEY think they are. As an amateur musician I can totally understand feeling like I'm really not that good, even if other people tell me I am - I just assume they didn't hear that sour note in the 3rd lick I played, or that they didn't notice I should've played a certain phrase more staccato. Especially when I hear recordings of myself, all I hear is the bum notes or the missed opportunities to do something better than I actually did. Even if I put on a performance that people say they enjoy, I often feel like it was just dreadful and I shouldn't have been on stage in the first place. To me, that's exactly what imposter syndrome describes.
(Not trying to throw a pity party...I love music and will happily keep playing anywhere that will let me for the rest of my life.)
But isn't the thing about imposter syndrome that it's not about whether YOU think the musician is good, but whether THEY think they are. As an amateur musician I can totally understand feeling like I'm really not that good, even if other people tell me I am - I just assume they didn't hear that sour note in the 3rd lick I played, or that they didn't notice I should've played a certain phrase more staccato. Especially when I hear recordings of myself, all I hear is the bum notes or the missed opportunities to do something better than I actually did. Even if I put on a performance that people say they enjoy, I often feel like it was just dreadful and I shouldn't have been on stage in the first place. To me, that's exactly what imposter syndrome describes.
(Not trying to throw a pity party...I love music and will happily keep playing anywhere that will let me for the rest of my life.)
I'm exactly the same way. I have a weekly gig that occasionally gets recorded and thrown up on the web. I hate watching the video, because whenever I do, all I hear are my own mistakes. People tell me it sounded great, and I think, "Sure, to someone with no musical training, maybe."
It never occurs to me to realize that "someone with no musical training" describes easily 80% of the audience. Maybe more.
It never occurs to me to realize that "someone with no musical training" describes easily 80% of the audience. Maybe more.
I'd like to leave you with something my music teacher told me. There are no mistakes.
"Music comes from inside of you, and through thought and motion you set it free into the air around you. When you are true to the music, whether you are tone deaf or have perfect pitch, the musician hears your song that is uniquely yours and yours alone. If you want a perfect note for note reproduction of a song, buy a tape recorder."
It really helped me let go of some my perfectionist tendencies and just let the music out.
"Music comes from inside of you, and through thought and motion you set it free into the air around you. When you are true to the music, whether you are tone deaf or have perfect pitch, the musician hears your song that is uniquely yours and yours alone. If you want a perfect note for note reproduction of a song, buy a tape recorder."
It really helped me let go of some my perfectionist tendencies and just let the music out.
Even those with no musical training will probably disregard your mistakes if the overall performance is good.
Example: My favorite Irish traditional duo is Peter Horan and Fred Finn (both RIP, alas). They were legendary for the tightness of their unison playing. There is a great video [1] of them from 1982, when they had been playing together for 25 years. At the 1:05 mark, Peter (the flute player) switches to the next reel, and Fred doesn't. The result is complete musical chaos ... and then, at 1:07, Fred finds the tune, and they suddenly are both in perfect sync again.
Now, this sort of screw-up is almost the worst mistake a competent Irish duo could make. But hell, for me if anything it makes this video stand out in a positive way. Seeing the fumble and recovery is endearing.
[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0CTHmQ2Jus
Example: My favorite Irish traditional duo is Peter Horan and Fred Finn (both RIP, alas). They were legendary for the tightness of their unison playing. There is a great video [1] of them from 1982, when they had been playing together for 25 years. At the 1:05 mark, Peter (the flute player) switches to the next reel, and Fred doesn't. The result is complete musical chaos ... and then, at 1:07, Fred finds the tune, and they suddenly are both in perfect sync again.
Now, this sort of screw-up is almost the worst mistake a competent Irish duo could make. But hell, for me if anything it makes this video stand out in a positive way. Seeing the fumble and recovery is endearing.
[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0CTHmQ2Jus
> How can a musician have imposter syndrome?
My opinion, based on my own circumstances and knowing others who feel the same way, is that some people in general have 'imposters syndrome' for whatever they do. Due to lack of self-confidence, I personally often feel like a 'fake' developer, 'fake' bass player, 'fake' husband, 'fake' son, 'fake' father, but over the years I've come to realise what I feel and experience isn't how other people perceive me. I've also tried to look at my capabilities and achievements through the eyes of others, and most of the time I came off as 'better' than I feel myself to be.
TL;DR - imposters syndrome is more a function of a person's general character rather than a specific thing they do (or so I postulate).
My opinion, based on my own circumstances and knowing others who feel the same way, is that some people in general have 'imposters syndrome' for whatever they do. Due to lack of self-confidence, I personally often feel like a 'fake' developer, 'fake' bass player, 'fake' husband, 'fake' son, 'fake' father, but over the years I've come to realise what I feel and experience isn't how other people perceive me. I've also tried to look at my capabilities and achievements through the eyes of others, and most of the time I came off as 'better' than I feel myself to be.
TL;DR - imposters syndrome is more a function of a person's general character rather than a specific thing they do (or so I postulate).
Yeah I agree. I'm a software engineer but I'm also an amateur jazz pianist (or I guess semi-pro since I sometimes get paid for it). I occasionally get the chance to play with professional musicians and I sometimes feel like an imposter around them, even though if I listen back to recordings or, as you said, try to look at myself through the eyes of others and be objective about it, I'm actually better than I imagine.
So if he doesn't get to play Carnegie Hall, he just ups and drops the whole thing?
The article doesn't mention Carnegie Hall (or Lollapalooza, or Coachella, or any of representatives of their equivalence class). And in any case, that doesn't seem to have been the author's point, from my reading. If anything, it was the exact opposite of his point.
It became evident at an early age that I was not the next Jimmy Page.
Just as it must have been, at a certain point, manifestly evident to both Jimmy Page and Robert Plant that neither of them were the next Skip James. Not even a million, trillion miles from it. And yet... they just kept doing what they were doing.
Do you see where this is getting at?
The article doesn't mention Carnegie Hall (or Lollapalooza, or Coachella, or any of representatives of their equivalence class). And in any case, that doesn't seem to have been the author's point, from my reading. If anything, it was the exact opposite of his point.
It became evident at an early age that I was not the next Jimmy Page.
Just as it must have been, at a certain point, manifestly evident to both Jimmy Page and Robert Plant that neither of them were the next Skip James. Not even a million, trillion miles from it. And yet... they just kept doing what they were doing.
Do you see where this is getting at?
Imposter syndrome is when people are unable to internalize their accomplishments despite external evidence of their competence.
The phenomenon is highly common among high-achievers which is why Popova references it.
The phenomenon is highly common among high-achievers which is why Popova references it.
The problem is that, from the inside, imposter syndrome feels like an accurate, negative self assessment. Writing off the latter as the former is not the right way to go; for every person who's wrong in that direction, there's probably another who's right in the same direction.
What we should be doing is teaching people how to make well-calibrated self-assessments, not repeat the ridiculous line that "lol no one knows what they're doing, everything's guesswork". We should teach people how spot the evidence of success that they miss -- but also the evidence of failure.
What we should be doing is teaching people how to make well-calibrated self-assessments, not repeat the ridiculous line that "lol no one knows what they're doing, everything's guesswork". We should teach people how spot the evidence of success that they miss -- but also the evidence of failure.
This comment was clearly made by someone who has never practiced art or music at a high level. You are trying to compare your experience as a musician with someone who has worked toward and dreamed of being one of the best there ever was since some time in, most likely, early adolescence.
I was among the best in my year on my instrument in the country. I went to one of the top music schools in the world, and then I moved to New York to keep studying and start working as a musician. Some time in the middle of the financial crisis, I got tired of being broke all the time, and of constantly battling injuries (that's thing you've probably never had to worry about, as an amateur musician. Your arm is sore? You get to take a few days off!), and teaching music to the spoiled children of the masters of the universe. I learned to code and started working as a programmer.
Everyone who has ever been among the best, but didn't quite make it, has to, at some point, decide they didn't make it, and quit. Once I quit, I barely touched my instrument for two years. Playing when you're out of practice can be pretty painful to someone who is highly trained. You've worked for years toward perfection and then you just have to start accepting... less than that.
Here's another thing that happens when you quit: you have a constant voice in the back of your mind wondering whether you gave up too easily. You were there with the best people in the world, and now you watch them take their place among the leading lights of the art, and you can't stop picturing yourself among them. It's not whining, it's the painful experience of giving up your lifelong image of yourself. Being a musician, a top level, professional musician, dominates your whole identity. Try to imagine this: rather than finding out at an early age that you're not the next Jimmy Page, you get very good very quickly at a young age, and people start telling you, hey, you could be the next Jimmy Page. You work for decades to get good enough, sacrificing your personal relationships, your childhood, choosing over and over again to stay in and work instead of doing whatever else you could be doing, and then at age 30 after years of near misses and barely scraping by, you realize you're just not the next Jimmy Page. It's not an early realization, it's a gradual defeat. And it's devastating.
Regarding imposter syndrome, there have been studies of musicians using the standard "sandwich method" of delivering criticism, in which the criticism is sandwiched between two compliments. Trained musicians often don't hear or register the compliments at all. I had this experience with my girlfriend recently. She played some excerpts for me, I said, "wow you sound great, I liked X and Y. Here are a few things you should work on." She asked me later if I thought she was complete shit. I said, "I said you sounded great," and she said "You did?" She literally had not even heard me say I thought she sounded great.
Here's another fact about the music world. People are often loath to tell you that you don't sound good (or don't sound great). Musicians know this, and so every time someone tells you that performance was great, there's a little part of you that wonders if you're being lied to. Often you'll get hired by a contractor to play a gig, and then never get called by them again. Sometimes that's because they have their regular people and you were just a stand in, or because they died or moved or whatever. Other times it's because they didn't like your playing. But they never tell you which one it is. So every time you don't get called back for a gig, regardless of what the actual reason is, there's a chance it's because you weren't good enough. Feedback is not consistent and it is not reliable.
So given those two facts, is it a wonder musicians can suffer from imposter syndrome? It's not a question of, "people will realize I can't play guitar," it's the very fine line between being very very good, and being great. Regardless of which side of the line you're on, you're always wondering.
Does that clear things up?
I was among the best in my year on my instrument in the country. I went to one of the top music schools in the world, and then I moved to New York to keep studying and start working as a musician. Some time in the middle of the financial crisis, I got tired of being broke all the time, and of constantly battling injuries (that's thing you've probably never had to worry about, as an amateur musician. Your arm is sore? You get to take a few days off!), and teaching music to the spoiled children of the masters of the universe. I learned to code and started working as a programmer.
Everyone who has ever been among the best, but didn't quite make it, has to, at some point, decide they didn't make it, and quit. Once I quit, I barely touched my instrument for two years. Playing when you're out of practice can be pretty painful to someone who is highly trained. You've worked for years toward perfection and then you just have to start accepting... less than that.
Here's another thing that happens when you quit: you have a constant voice in the back of your mind wondering whether you gave up too easily. You were there with the best people in the world, and now you watch them take their place among the leading lights of the art, and you can't stop picturing yourself among them. It's not whining, it's the painful experience of giving up your lifelong image of yourself. Being a musician, a top level, professional musician, dominates your whole identity. Try to imagine this: rather than finding out at an early age that you're not the next Jimmy Page, you get very good very quickly at a young age, and people start telling you, hey, you could be the next Jimmy Page. You work for decades to get good enough, sacrificing your personal relationships, your childhood, choosing over and over again to stay in and work instead of doing whatever else you could be doing, and then at age 30 after years of near misses and barely scraping by, you realize you're just not the next Jimmy Page. It's not an early realization, it's a gradual defeat. And it's devastating.
Regarding imposter syndrome, there have been studies of musicians using the standard "sandwich method" of delivering criticism, in which the criticism is sandwiched between two compliments. Trained musicians often don't hear or register the compliments at all. I had this experience with my girlfriend recently. She played some excerpts for me, I said, "wow you sound great, I liked X and Y. Here are a few things you should work on." She asked me later if I thought she was complete shit. I said, "I said you sounded great," and she said "You did?" She literally had not even heard me say I thought she sounded great.
Here's another fact about the music world. People are often loath to tell you that you don't sound good (or don't sound great). Musicians know this, and so every time someone tells you that performance was great, there's a little part of you that wonders if you're being lied to. Often you'll get hired by a contractor to play a gig, and then never get called by them again. Sometimes that's because they have their regular people and you were just a stand in, or because they died or moved or whatever. Other times it's because they didn't like your playing. But they never tell you which one it is. So every time you don't get called back for a gig, regardless of what the actual reason is, there's a chance it's because you weren't good enough. Feedback is not consistent and it is not reliable.
So given those two facts, is it a wonder musicians can suffer from imposter syndrome? It's not a question of, "people will realize I can't play guitar," it's the very fine line between being very very good, and being great. Regardless of which side of the line you're on, you're always wondering.
Does that clear things up?
Very well said. Music is... hard. (I guess all careers in the arts are.) I too have worked both as a musician and a programmer, although I decided to go back to music after almost burning myself out writing code in my 20s. (Music is what I studied at university; I am a self-taught programmer.)
My main reason for returning to music, of course, was a love of it – but the constant voice in the back of your mind you mention was also a part of it. This voice nagged through my programming years, dulled somewhat by the immersive nature of programming and the sheer joy of getting things working. (Even now it's hard not to want to jump back in when I see something interesting on HN!)
My thoughts on music as a career at this point (I'm in my mid-30s now), is that: you really need to want to do it, because the rewards in terms of recognition, financial success, etc, are minimal and/or fleeting. Having some financial buffer from having worked in the computer industry helps, but you need to not leave it so late that you forget the hunger, or that you are accustomed to a comfortable lifestyle. The biggest thing that I've realised in the past few years, and this applies more to composer/performers than it does to concert musicians, is that if you want to find an audience (and then perhaps some success), you really need to find the core of what makes you unique and go with that. The world is already saturated with composers and musicians that sound like a lot of other people. (This is a lower bar than the sort of groundbreakingly uniqueness that comes along once in a generation, but it's a bar nonetheless.)
Anyway, I've rambled enough. My best wishes to anyone that chooses the music road.
My main reason for returning to music, of course, was a love of it – but the constant voice in the back of your mind you mention was also a part of it. This voice nagged through my programming years, dulled somewhat by the immersive nature of programming and the sheer joy of getting things working. (Even now it's hard not to want to jump back in when I see something interesting on HN!)
My thoughts on music as a career at this point (I'm in my mid-30s now), is that: you really need to want to do it, because the rewards in terms of recognition, financial success, etc, are minimal and/or fleeting. Having some financial buffer from having worked in the computer industry helps, but you need to not leave it so late that you forget the hunger, or that you are accustomed to a comfortable lifestyle. The biggest thing that I've realised in the past few years, and this applies more to composer/performers than it does to concert musicians, is that if you want to find an audience (and then perhaps some success), you really need to find the core of what makes you unique and go with that. The world is already saturated with composers and musicians that sound like a lot of other people. (This is a lower bar than the sort of groundbreakingly uniqueness that comes along once in a generation, but it's a bar nonetheless.)
Anyway, I've rambled enough. My best wishes to anyone that chooses the music road.
Here's something I've wanted to ask a professional musician for a while. It seems like most listeners' enjoyment doesn't actually depend much on your technique, which you've spent years perfecting. Practicing your instrument (or more general "musicianship") might not even be the main limiting factor for becoming a sought-after musician, as opposed to things like charisma and theatrics, or songwriting, or imagination... I don't know. What do you think?
I think of technique in very different terms. Technique is the ability to execute very precisely what's in your head on your instrument. That ability is meaningless without all the things you list, especially, I'd say, imagination, but so too are those things meaningless without technique. You can have all the imagination in the world, but if you can't execute what's in your head exactly, that imagination will not be illuminated for the audience.
My take on it is that technique is something you need to a certain degree, but it alone is not enjoyable. Good music, is subjective, and a combination of many things. Good technique can help, but even a singer without a typical singing voice for example can be very enjoyable to listen to, like Ian Dury.
Insightful reply. Just wanted to let you know it resonates with me, though I am much more of an audio engineer than musician.
I'm amazed that you wrote out such a patient, thoughtful response. Thank you.
So this piece is essentially comments on another piece by this Kurtz guy, and the commentary is quite banal. Luckily the author seems to thoroughly reproduce the original piece which really wasn't too bad.
It's a book review. Is that not a valid form of writing to you?