Friday, June 20, 2014

What the Banjo has Taught me about Learning Curves

Learning Curves

My friend Sam once told me in a conversation about the subject of philosophy, "There's a steep learning curve."  Understatement of the century.

But the aphorism has surfaced again in my flailing attempts to produce music with the banjo.

Generally speaking, a "learning curve" is a progression of difficulty in learning a skill or subject over a course of time.  A steep learning curve means that you have to learn a lot, pretty quickly, in order to learn the skill.  It can be represented with a graph.




Region A represents the slope in the first period of learning.  Region A may take a few minutes, or maybe several months.  It may be steep, as indicated, meaning that the learning rate is initially grueling.  I interpret this phase as being when the learner is at the highest risk of quitting.  In the case of banjo, a suite of skills need to be picked up.  Obviously chords, a few things about scales, and- most importantly- right-hand technique need to develop as integral foundations to the amateur player.  A learner may respond to region A with "Wow, this is challenging, but I'm learning noticeably day to day," or with "This is hard; screw it."

I have spent a lot of time trying to make music, and I find that something critical to learning is that the learner is able to reflect on his progress as substantial and noticeable over a reasonable period.  When I started to learn claw-hammer technique, it took me at least 10 days before I found that I had made any progress; honestly, this is a long time to spend waiting for something to click.  And in this case it took those 10 days just to realize that I could do it.  It took about another 10 before I could admit that I was doing it.  And another 10 to put it into practical, interesting use.  And another 10 before I could do it in a way that felt fluent.  Then, scarcely had I journeyed those 40 days before I realized that I was getting bored with my limited ability and began to break out into a technique called "drop-thumb," which I discuss below.

Region B represents the last 10 days of my intensive hammer-claw learning.  By this time I felt that I understood what I was doing, though there was room for improvement.  I was learning a lot of simple little tunes for hammer-claw but felt restricted in my ability to diversify them (they all sounded too similar to me).  Drop-thumb is a technique in which the thumb is liberated from the fifth string and bounces around from the fifth to other strings.  This may not sound sexy to you, but to a new hammer-claw player, this sounds almost heretical.  I gave it a shot- badly- for a few hours until I started to get the hang of it.  The rate of learning here was nowhere near as steep as when I first began to familiarize myself with claw-hammer, but it is keeping me interested at the moment.

Region C is, like A, another trouble spot and, I think, presents the next highest risk of quitting an instrument.  I have reached Region C again and again on the guitar, and sometimes I seem stuck there.  In Region C, the learner is essentially a sophomore.  I've learned all the basics, he says, and there's not much more substantial material to learn.  I guess I'll plink around and see what happens.  This of course sounds pretty stupid.  Stevie Ray Vaughn, Jim Croce, Jimmy Hendrix, Preston Reed, George Harrison, and Eric Clapton (to name a tiny fraction of great artists) probably never thought this.  But the attitude slips into new learners' thinking all the time.

It is in Region C that the learner needs to be pushed by an instructor to explore new areas or have the discipline to seek out those challenges for himself.  Each new challenge is represented by a new bump, in the region represented as Region D.  In Region D, the little waves may individually be much steeper and larger than Region A, depending on the increased level of difficulty.  For instance, if I leveled off in Region C for hammer-claw and began to intensify my attention on finger-picking- a different technique- I would end up in another steep curve, the qualities and length of which may be greater or less than Region A.


The Rub

What do I mean with all these abstruse musings on "learning curves" and "regions" of said curves?

Notice that the curve goes up.  And the curve goes up at a rate roughly proportional to the learner's effort (in my view).  So this is really applicable to learning any skill.  If you suppose yourself to be incapable of learning some new skill, look at the curve.  Yes, it starts steep.  You may even run out of momentum a few times and have to put the breaks on or change gears.  But it levels out eventually.  Maybe you are content to stop at Region B, fine.  But remember that you can do it.

I have had to remind myself that I can do it a hundred times in the short duration of learning to play the banjo.  And I have- so far- always been right.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Some Early Thoughts on Learning to Play the Banjo

Perceptions of the Banjo
Your appreciation of this miraculous instrument is contingent upon your exposure to it.  If the only tune you know is the one from Deliverance, then it might creep you out.  Or if you consider the banjo to be the guitar's retarded cousin, fit only for stump-jumpin, inbred, hillbilly mountain folk who run a little short in the dental department, then you might think it to be below your sophisticated modern taste.

But if you have developed a love and deep appreciation for the musical genre of bluegrass, then the banjo is something more.  It is majestic, dignified, thoughtful, and the defining sound of bluegrass.  It is mysterious and sometimes somber, an acoustic mountain of mystery that invites you to explore.  For a small taste of what you might be missing if you don't appreciate the banjo and bluegrass in general, see some of the links below:

The Punch Brothers (covering the Cars)
Pine Mountain Railroad (covering Journey)
Iron Horse (covering Elton John)

These players are mostly modern and are not traditional bluegrass, but if you listen to them I think your schema of "banjo" will expand exponentially.


Playing the Banjo
I got a banjo for Christmas of 2012.  I learned some chords and a few rolls, but it never really clicked with me.  I've played guitar for 4 or 5 years and have always stuck with it as my standard instrument of choice, but the banjo always stood as that guilty I-wish-I-played-it-more instrument in the corner, usually in its case and usually out of tune.

The guitar is tuned to no particular chord.  Any chord requires a few fingers thrown down against the fret board.  It has a rich sound with a long sustain (as long as around 10 to 15 seconds), so it can be strummed as a supporting instrument.  A banjo, on the other hand, is often (but not always) tuned to the key of open G, meaning that you can play it without putting any fingers down, and it makes the musical sound of a G chord.  So songs in the key of G are easy to play.  The banjo has a shorter sustain (maybe 5-7 seconds) and therefore must be part of a continuously moving melody in order to be relevant to the song.  Usually this is achieved by what are called rolls- plucked sequences that involve an alternating pattern of thumb, middle, and index fingers engaging the 5 strings.  One odd thing about the banjo is that the string closest to you is tuned to the highest note, instead of the lowest as in the guitar.  This is because banjo players pluck the hell out of that string to produce the signature ring quality of banjo music.  This is something I never understood until around early March, when I saw video of a banjo instructor playing in the "claw-hammer" style.  Get a little taste of claw-hammer Cripple Creek here or here on a guitar (you have never seen this before).

Now the claw-hammer style is really a departure from what I had considered as traditional banjo playing.  It turns out to be more traditional than what is called picking, which you can see here in another version of Cripple Creek.  In the claw-hammer style, melody notes are struck between "brush strokes-" in which all strings are struck to fill in the musical gaps- and the thumb-pluck or the "down beat," where the thumb pulls up on that fifth string to produce the signature sound.  It is probably called claw-hammer because the shape of the hand is in a claw, and the hammer-on is a technical skill that lends this style its unique sound.  Go here for another great claw-hammer tune, Ole Joe Clarke.



The Claw-Hammer Project
I started getting serious playing the banjo around early March of this year, and I have come close to mastering the claw-hammer technique.  What I would like to do is chronicle my stump-jumping inbred ramblings while I learn to play the banjo, and maybe I'll invite any unwary traveler along for the ride.

I hope this entertains you rather than making you want to tear your ears off.

More to come.