Smarter in :60 III: The Grasshopper and the Modal Pebble

December 23rd, 2010 by Mark Hermann

View Single Page

Tweet

HARLEM, MANHATTAN: When you sit down to write that next hit song, your great American novel, that killer app, or to find that just right music to fit a crucial scene for the movie you’re music supervising, where do you stop to get the job done?

"Life" -- looking for the next level...

Is it the first thing that sounds/reads/looks/functions pretty good so you can meet your deadline? Do you solicit feedback and if yes, do you actually listen to constructive criticism? How far down do you dig within to make it truly great before we get to see it? Do you really go the extra mile?

We live now in an era where to be good or — even very good — simply isn’t good enough. You need to be remarkable if you want to be heard today. Pondering these same questions, I was reminded recently of an early lesson that set me on the straight and narrow and thought I would share it with you.

Once upon a time I had a guitar teacher named Linc Chamberland, who lived in a remote corner of upstate Connecticut. People came from all over the country to study with him. When I was around 18, and started to get a little bit good at the guitar, my peers told me I needed to study with him if I wanted get to the promised land of my true potential (the Grasshopper). He was da man (the Master) — Google “Kung Fu”, the TV show to get the reference.

Well, that just scared the shit out of me because he was like a myth, a legend in those parts. He was like the killer rabbit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail with teeth a mile wide. Or if metal is your thing he was Dio’s “Man on the Silver Mountain” (fear of the unknown). I finally got the nerve to call him, which turns out to have been one of the most important decisions I ever made in terms of personal growth, both musically and spiritually. Here’s why:

His lessons were built around jazz theory but they were really life lessons in disguise. So we would take a standard like “Stella By Starlight” in the key of F major. He would explain things like modes and scales and what worked over the changes, which you learned by playing through the song with him. Then he would give you exercises to practice for the next lesson, which we would always record on these things called cassette tapes (see Wiki for technologies of the last century). It sounds pretty standard, right?

So I would go home and work my ass off so I could really impress him the following week. Upon my return, we’d get right into it.

“Stella?” he would say.   ”Yeah, sure,” I said, ready to tear it up.

“OK, Stella. And a one…two, a one, two, three in the key of E flat…”(DOH!!) (cue the musical brakes screeching to a halt)

“E flat???” I would cry, falling flat on my face and stopping. “I thought we were in F???”

“That was last week,” he said. “Do you know the song or are you just playing an arrangement you memorized? A monkey can learn that. I want you to really hear the song. Dig? So go home this week and practice it in all 12 keys and I’ll see you next week.”

The nerve of this guy! I thought. Pissed off and seething, I drove home with my musical tail between my legs. So I sat down and started shedding and very quickly realized he was right. I realized all the work I was neglecting of really getting inside the music and by the end of that week, I started to sound like I actually knew what I was doing. So I headed back with a newfound confidence and walked in with an 18 year old’s shit-eating-grin that he was going to kick some serious jazz guitar ass today.

“OK, ‘Stella By Starlight’. Key of B flat?” he asked.

“B flat is great,” I smiled.

”OK. And a one…two…let’s do it in 5/4 time signature (a totally different rhythm to you non-musicians). And a one, two, three, four, five …” WHAT THE…? 5/4??? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO??? MOTHER F!@#ER!!!

Grasshopper, when you can snatch the pebble from my hands…

And that’s how Linc Chamberland could pull the very best out of you by pushing you out of your comfort zone; away from your self-imposed limitations and get you to dig deep down to a place within that you never knew existed; a place where great things happen, where the treasure is hidden. Where you get to give away your true gift, that is your own unique voice.

It’s the place where you kick back in your chair exhausted and smile, after that one line in the last verse that’s been bothering you for weeks suddenly comes to you out of left field and the whole song comes together and you say, “Now that’s a song. Print it!”

Where the main character in your novel accidentally stumbles upon their true purpose, which is just as much a surprise to the author.

And in their (not your) moment of epiphany, you actually come to learn what your story was always about, which may be something very different than what you thought when you started out — but turns out to be so much better. It’s that place where, in a moment of exasperation, after trying way too many songs you thought would surely work for a scene and didn’t, that you stick one in that you would never think to use on a hunch.

Suddenly the magic flies off the screen and YOU just became the hero.

Don’t ever stop at good enough. There’s just way too much good stuff out there to choose from already. But there’s always room for that unique gift that you have to give. Everything you want in your life (which will come when you find that place within and share it with the world) lies just outside your comfort zone.

Peace,

Mark Hermann

NYC-based producer/artist/engineer/more Mark Hermann spends his life in the professional service of music. He has toured the world with rock legends, produced hit artists, and licensed music for numerous TV/film placements. Hermann also owns a recording studio in a 100-year old Harlem Brownstone. Keep up with him at his homepage.