the choice to be mediocre

Some wise musician once told me that only mediocre players are picky about their musical instruments. If you are a bad player, then it doesn’t matter how good of an instrument you play on. The music will not sound good anyway. If you’re a good player, then it also doesn’t matter how bad of an instrument you play on, since you will figure out a way to make beautiful music with it anyway (like what Keith Jarrett did in Köln in 1975). However if you’re somewhere in the middle, you could fool yourself in thinking that you’re good by playing on a great instrument. It may occasionally produce decent music despite your lack of skills.

A little over a year ago, I came out of my sabbatical and started working with high school students at an independent school in Silicon Valley (yes I’m back on the west coast!). Getting to know more young people has been a really great transition for me and has given me a renewed sense of hope for the future.

I am concerned, however, at the general culture of the current times, and what some of these kids are told as “advice” by peers and adults who know no better. For example, there is a tremendous number of time-wasting tasks that they are forced to go through just to optimize the college admissions game. To spend so much time on this game is incredibly inefficient, since most undergraduate programs will teach very similar things anyway. The name of the college, it seems to me, are very similar in effect to musical instruments. If you remain bad at what you do, then nobody will want to hire you, so what college you attended won’t matter. On the other hand, if you dedicate enough time to become good at something, then your work will speak for itself and you’ll have plenty of opportunities as people realize the value you will bring, so the college you attended won’t matter either. So the signaling that comes from the name of the college on your resume, if it makes any difference at all, only matters if you’re mediocre. By telling kids to care about such pointless things as the name of the college they attend, we are basically telling them, “We have very low expectations of you that you won’t amount to much, so you will need to go to a famous school in order to make people believe that you’re better than you actually are.” What an uninspiring and stupid message that will for sure kill the intrinsic motivation these kids all have.

The tragedy in all this is that by focusing on this admissions game, we are intentionally choosing to stay mediocre. Or at least we are optimizing our life with the assumption that we will stay mediocre. With this mindset, we’re guaranteed to stay mediocre, because our daily actions are not aligned with true growth. I don’t necessarily think that is a bad choice if you’ve intentionally chosen it and are content with it, but a lot of people are funneled into this mediocrity mindset without realizing that there are other options. Developing yourself is a time-consuming process; you must choose to do it, and do it on a daily basis. Because time is finite, you will most likely have to give up some other things for this, but trust me, the tradeoff is well worth it.

Looking back

Music has been a major part of my life, starting early on. My mother’s diary speaks of the day when the 26-week-old me discovered that a piano responds to my touch to make a sound. By age two, I was able to sing over fifty Japanese songs with precise intonation.

I must have decided early on, although not consciously, that it was okay to not be the best at everything, if it meant that I could play more music. Of course I wasn’t thinking that deeply about my life, but now I realize this about my past self, because whenever I got a time-consuming assignment or a project from school, I tended to not do them, opting to practice with my time instead. Of course I tried to make sure that my grades did not dip so low to a point to fail the class, but I was not always successful.

One evening after I came home with a failing report card, I was trying to sleep when I overheard my parents discussing in the dining area. The topic was whether I should stop playing music so that I can focus on my studies more. Thankfully, they decided against that idea. My father’s precise words were, “But if we take away music from Shin, he would have nothing left.” I think he underestimated me a bit though, as I have achieved some things outside of music too. I was just a late bloomer on most of my pursuits in life.

When I got in trouble with my mother, unlike most mothers who would take away their video games or a day out with friends, she took away my ride to music lessons. That did not deter me, and I simply walked. My cello teacher’s house was a 1.5-hour walk each way, and so I walked from and to the lesson, with a cello on my back.

When I was in high school, my father left his job to pursue more education. My parents said that they were financially okay to continue paying for our living expenses, but the music lessons had to go. That’s when I decided to take the only job I knew how to get at that time, a minimum wage job washing dishes in a restaurant in the evenings and weekends, and used almost all of my earnings from the job to continue with the lessons. Surprisingly, this was a change for the better (take note, parents). Did you know that people value things much more when they have to pay for it? I never knew until then, but from that day forward, I have never hesitated spending money for my education. I even asked my piano teacher to charge me more so I would take my studies more seriously.

When it came time to decide on a college major, I considered studying music for a bit, but the practical side of me won out and I chose physics instead, and I eventually changed to an even more practical major in engineering. Little did I know that the lessons I learned through music would propel me in all these pursuits.

Looking back, I still don’t know why music has always been such a large part of my life, but in hindsight, I do realize what a positive force it has been in all aspects. I attribute so much of the beauty of life: my happiness, a meaningful and challenging career that I’ve been lucky to have, relationships with other growth-oriented people, and the insights to make good decisions. Here are some key takeaways:

I couldn’t bullshit my way through music.
In an academic environment, I can have the illusion of having mastered something. For example, if I do everything that a teacher tells me to do, I can expect to receive an “A” in a course and I would think that I have mastered it. But in reality, getting an A is hardly “mastering” that subject, as plenty of students get A’s, unlike in the real world where only a few are called “masters” of any field. Compare that to music. Music is very honest, and less confusing. The music that comes out when I sit down at the piano and improvise is a very real reflection of the work that I put in, and my limitations because of the work that I did not put in yet. I doubt that I will ever get to call myself a “master” of music. As such, just sitting down in front of a piano daily aligns my goals to my long-term growth. It’s the small things that matter. The daily decisions to act in ways that improve the unseen future, that’s what most of life boils down to.

Music taught me about “abstraction”.
Some people are puzzled why pianists can memorize a long piece of music, such as a 3-movement sonata. If you think just in terms of the number of notes, it should be impossible that any human can just memorize so much information. But music is not about memorizing notes. It is about how the notes are combined with other notes, and how that combination of notes moves to the next combination of notes. All of those follow a few common patterns that appear in lots of different places within all genres of music. These common patterns are the “abstractions” of music, and by having the knowledge about more and more of these abstractions, what I am able to create musically has increased exponentially over time.

I later learned that my other pursuits in life, such as physics and engineering, are also largely built on this concept of abstraction. So a difficult problem is actually not a complex problem. It is a combination of many simple problems that add up to give it its seemingly complex nature.

Something I’ve noticed about my philosophy in life is that unlike many people who tend to focus on the end-goals and results, I don’t have long-term goals, nor am I interested in what the final result of my actions will be. Kind of like a good poker player, who can detach the aspect of decision making from the result of their actions which are driven by luck. I have never had typical aspirations in life such as getting married, buying a nice house, or being successful. If they happen, great. If not, also great. My focus has simply been on building up my skills from the foundation up, like a pyramid, and I just let life unfold. As a result, I get off to slower start compared to others, but I eventually get to a point where my foundation is strong so that I can learn things faster. That explains my struggles in math classes early on, and my eventual success in physics and engineering. It also explains I was never the kid to enter piano competitions. What I could play was extremely basic compared to other kids taking piano lessons. Instead of learning to play impressive-sounding pieces by these genius composers, I was slowly building up my ear for music by listening to songs and learning them by ear, note by note and chord by chord.

The result is that now I can hear a piece of music and learn and understand both the melody and its chord progressions in a matter of minutes. I can join a band and come up with a piano part on the spot to make the band better. I can compose a piece of music at will. I can accompany a singer singing in any key without sheet music. I can improvise my way out when I get lost during a performance. It turns out that all these skills are important to a musician.

Abraham Lincoln apparently believed in this “foundations-up” approach too, as he said “give me six hours to chop down a tree, and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.”

Music is more science than art
Although music is so powerful in appealing to the listener’s emotions, the process of becoming better at music is very scientific in nature, and has so much to do with planning effective practice sessions and executing on them. To detach the emotional part and focusing on the science almost seem wrong, and I even remember being told by a non-musician friend that I should “feel” the music more while I was drilling on a left-hand passage methodically with a metronome, but such practice can be a very effective way to develop the techniques so that later on when you are feeling that emotion in music, you have the capability to express that emotion by moving your hand in a very specific way that matches what the emotions require.

But music is still art
After all I said in the previous paragraph, the purpose of music is still to capture the beauty in the moment in time and space with your music. Music’s power is in its fleeting nature, as no same sound will ever be produced again. As such, music parallels life, because after all, there is so much joy in being alive and experiencing each current moment. It’s a tragedy that we forget this, and life goes on without us basking in the beauty of it.

Yesterday does not exist anymore, and tomorrow is not guaranteed. Today is different though. Today, we can choose what to make of it.

worthy of your attention

The plane landed slightly before the scheduled time. There was an air of excitement among the passengers. We were all eager go home and do whatever it was that each of us were going to do next. Sleep, see our loved ones, or in my case, play my piano. Then we got word that we had to wait on the taxiway for an indefinite amount of time because there was another plane parked at the gate where we were supposed to deplane. I thought to myself, “cool, extra time to get my Spanish studying in,” and started studying. About twenty minutes into being stuck there, I couldn’t help but notice the complaints coming from those around me about the situation: “Oh come on who messed up?” “How is it that airlines can never figure this stuff out?”

I admit that I too express my share of complaints about things at times, but if you step back and assess the situation, you notice just how silly this is. It is one thing to complain about something that can be changed. But to complain about a situation that simply won’t change or you have no power to change? What’s the point of that? Are those things even worth your attention?

One time, a student of mine messed up pretty bad in a piano recital. I asked him afterward, “so what do you think happened?” He was quick to respond “I got nervous. Also it was cold and my fingers didn’t move well.”

While it may be true that he got nervous and had cold fingers, I really was hoping for a different answer. Something like “I didn’t practice enough” because really, that would have been a much better attitude to have about what had just happened.

Do people get nervous for a performance? Sure, I get nervous every single time. Does a venue where you perform get cold at times? Of course. But those are out of your control. But you know what you could have done? Practice more. Practice so much so that you are so damn good, so that even with your nerves and freezing fingers, you still have complete command of the instrument, and you are able to perform at a high level.

Stop giving any of your attention to the things you cannot control, and focus meticulously on the things that you can. You will be amazed with your results.

Tokyo concert

If you’ve been wanting to visit Japan, next month might be the perfect time to go.

Why? Because I’m playing a solo concert! Besides, Tokyo is just a cool place that you should experience regardless.

I’ll be performing some of my newest pieces, some I haven’t even recorded yet.

When:
5/18 4PM JST

Where:
Tokyo Lutheran Church
1-14-14 Okubo

It will be free admission. I will be collecting donations though, to support a young struggling musician, me.

Just kidding, I am not struggling, and I will donate all the proceeds to an organization that provides training for people to become effective conversation partners. It means a lot to me to support them, since they were instrumental in helping my grandmother overcome her anxiety and depression. The best part? My grandmother, who has never shown an interest in my music, is actually planning to come to this concert. It will be her first time to see me perform, ever.

See you next month Tokyo!

you were born an artist

As my brother Kan likes to say, good art comes from mundane daily practice. This is an unequivocal fact. Kan is quite the artist, and most people only get the opportunity to see his final products, but there is a perk to being his brother. I got to see the practice that went into those pieces. Before any of those pieces came to be, I got to see the pile of papers on his desk on which he practiced, letter by letter and font by font, over and over and over and over again. Also, he uses the word “mundane” somewhat liberally here, because the acts of practice and continual improvement are actually far from mundane, in fact they are the most significant sources of joy for an artist. In a society so focused on results, many people misunderstand this point. They think that acting is about landing a role in a major film, painting is about having your work featured in a famous gallery, writing is about winning the Nobel prize in literature, and music is about playing to an audience at iconic venues. Of course, they are all wrong. Art is simply about showing up on a daily basis, and relentlessly pursuing to better ourselves. Everything else is just fluff.

There’s something so satisfying about practicing and getting better. Performing can be fun too, but not as much. Don’t tell anyone, but I actually don’t even like performing all that much. I do it anyway because my performances seem to give joy to some people, and I’m always happy to contribute joy to others, but after every performance I can’t help but think, “whew it’s over, now I can go home and do what I actually love, which is to practice.” As Karl Paulnack urges, we musicians must take our practice very seriously just as doctors would take their education seriously. If you’re a doctor, someday, someone will be brought into an emergency at 2AM, and it will be up to your knowledge and skill to save that person’s life. Well, if you’re a musician, it’s just as likely that some day a broken soul might walk into your concert at 8PM, and whether they go home whole again will be based purely on how well you do your craft.

Anyone who has recently pursued any form of art knows all this. However, recently, I have had several conversations with others that led me to wonder how many people have forgotten about the joy of creating art, and tragically settle for a never-ending spiral of consumption. Just consider that a friend of mine took one look at my apartment, which consists of just the bare necessities, and asked me, “Are you happy? I could not live like you, I need to enjoy life.” Societal influence is strong on this one. So many people have been led to believe that somehow there is a correlation between spending money and enjoying one’s life, and such a belief just turns people into slaves of money.

It would be one thing if people’s decision to stop creating art is a conscious one, but that is far from it. We are all born artists, and cultural influences suck the inner artists out of us. So much of this has to do with the society’s love of money. It isn’t out of randomness that I blog a lot about personal finance, although there don’t seem to be too many other pianists who blog more about finance than pianism. But I do it consciously because if you don’t control your money, your money will control you. And when it does, it makes it that much harder to have the mental energy to create good art.

I love this commencement speech by Neil Gaiman.

Creating your best art is your purpose in life. Are you getting farther from it? Then something about your life ought to change.

Me llamo Shin. Soy músico.

During a recent conversational class, I learned to introduce myself in Spanish.

“Me llamo Shin. Soy músico.” (My name is Shin. I am a musician.)

This got me curious, because any English speaker would be tempted to say “Soy un músico” instead, but apparently, it’s not quite correct to add the article when speaking about my profession.

So during a 15-minute break with my band in between our shows, I asked my Spanish-speaking bandmate why he thinks this is so. His answer was so beautiful that I have to share with you:

“When you say ‘I am a musician’, you are just that, one musician. But you see, you are not just a musician. So you say ‘Soy músico. I am musician.‘ When I tell you ‘I am musician’, I’m heroically professing that I embody music. All musicians are within me, and I am within all musicians.”

I’m pretty sure he just made that explanation up, but nonetheless, I was inspired by how romantically he thinks about his language.

choose the difficult road

During a recent music gig, a girl who looked to be a teenager came up to me and asked, “is it hard to become a musician?”

At that moment, I could have simply answered the question and tell her that yes, it is probably difficult and requires much more work to be a musician than most other jobs, but I wondered about why she was asking the question in the first place, so I asked her, “what would you do if I told you that it was difficult?”

After a short conversation, I found out that she loves to play the guitar, and her parents think that making a living as a musician is difficult, so she should pursue other things instead.

I see two main beliefs that drive this kind of thinking.

  1. You should not pursue something if it is difficult.
  2. Pursuing one career takes away an opportunity to pick up another down the road.

The only problem I see here is that both points above are completely wrong.

Often, it is very tempting to take the easy road. In fact, a lot of what we do on a daily basis is driven by how much short-term reward we can get for doing as little work as possible. For example, many people (including me) like to get drunk for the good feelings we get in return, however temporary they may be. We also like to satisfy our hunger by consuming junk food. And we attempt to garner “likes” on social media by posting an over-dramatic representation of some status update based at least in part on our lives showing off how great our lives are, or taking pictures of food that we didn’t even make ourselves, as if we somehow deserve the credit for the culinary art.

All these things give us instant gratification, but they make us worse off in the long run. They make us feel good just in that moment, but that feeling does not persist, and we even pay a price afterward. In the case of alcohol and junk food, the price is obviously our degrading health. In the case of posting things on social media, our price is the empty feeling we feel on the inside from desiring so badly for social approval while doing nothing of value to others.

It turns out that the things that are truly worth doing, like the things that change the world for the better and the things give us a sense of purpose, are all difficult things. So even though we all succumb at times to the desire to pursue the easy road, we must not give up completely by making that our default action. Whenever we come across a juncture (which is pretty much every single day), we must intentionally choose the difficult path that takes more work but also leads to more growth.

And as for the second point, no, we do not necessarily diminish our chance at one career by pursuing another, and sometimes, we even gain more, as our philosophy slowly builds to help compound our overall growth which opens up more opportunities. Besides, with the current pace of societal changes, there isn’t a single job that exist today that is guaranteed to exist twenty years from now anyway, so we might as well embrace the changes and take joy in all the learning that we must do continually. It is even becoming the norm for people to pursue multiple careers throughout their lifetime. Personally, I know that I have lost nothing by pursuing music. In fact, music taught me some of the most important lessons that allowed me the chance to develop my skills in other areas. Music helped me internalize that the only way to get better is to work to get better. It turns out that this applies in any other field. So just by knowing that and letting that conviction be the guide for daily action, you will have a leg up on anyone who believes that there is some magical shortcut in life to achieve more with less effort. There isn’t.

Just show up

I happen to live and work by the gym where Kobe Bryant works out. He works out quite early, and today he showed up at 5:45AM for his morning workout. My coworkers tell me that this is nothing unusual for Kobe, and he’s been doing it since his high school days. Mind you, he is a retired player, but hey, Kobe is still Kobe, and I think the fact that he still shows up in the morning to this day says a lot about his attitude and philosophy toward life in general, not just basketball. Now I feel like a coward lecturing to my students about the importance of work ethic, when my daily practice sessions don’t start until much later in the morning (if it starts at all). Apparently, I still have a whole lot I must learn from truly dedicated people like Kobe. He makes me look like the laziest person on the planet, and that’s probably why he makes millions and I don’t.

By the way, here’s a little nugget of insight I’ve discovered over time, for anyone who thinks that practicing is too hard and unpleasant; practicing is actually not hard at all. What’s really difficult is to do the Step Zero, which is to show up for practice. Or in my case, to sit myself down in front of the piano. Once I can overcome that initial step, the actual process of going through the practice is not as difficult.

New York City

When I stepped foot in New York City, I felt a strange sense of familiarity. Here I was, in a city that I had never been in, yet it seemed as if the scenery in front of me was something I had seen before. I even felt like I had come home.

It could be because New York City is similar to my hometown in many ways. Just like Tokyo, you encounter thousands of pedestrians on a daily basis. Many of them seem to be in a rush to get somewhere. They are “strangers” to you, as in they are people whose only connection to your life is that they once walked by you in a busy city street. If your life were a movie, they are part of the “extra”. But let us remind ourselves that in their lives, we are the extra. Just strangers walking by. Most will stay strangers, yet, should you get to know some of them through a stroke of life’s luck that bring you together, you quickly find out that you were not strangers at all. After all, we are all human, and as such, we share much in common. We all seek meaningful relationships, we strive to do the best given our life’s circumstances, we worry about our future, and we ponder about things like the meaning of life and our place in society.

I wrote this piece, “New York City” for my album “Portraits”. The album is called that because these are pieces that portray some aspects of my life that have meant a lot to me.

You can listen to the rest of the album on Spotify and iTunes.