An allegory to get great rhythm
Imagine an idyllic scene with a wide, rushing stream of water. We want to cross, but we would get our shoes wet if we tried. Of course, we don’t want to get our shoes wet every time we cross, so we’d like to build a little stone pathway to get across it. What’s the best way to do that?!
To create our allegory, let’s imagine the span across the stream to be one measure of music. Time signatures denote how many beats go in each measure; let’s pretend this span is a phrase of four beats. That’s what we “want to cross,” or play comfortably without “getting our shoes wet.” Fill in the blank for whatever you’re practicing.
Counting the beat
It is much too wide to jump across the whole stream; by analogy, it is “too wide” to try to cover all four beats at once. We will be walking in the water at some point if we don’t build some kind of continuing structure, “all the way across.” So, we decide to place some nice, flat stones across the stream in order to cross.
We already got our measuring stick, determined that the stream is four beats wide, and gathered up four nice, flat stones. Now we space them at even lengths apart across the stream. We jump from stone to stone, and make it across the span without getting our shoes wet!
We make a game of counting each stone we jump across: [1, 2, 3, 4]!
Counting the off-beat
We have made big time progress and accomplished our original goal! However, as we cross day after day, jumping from stone to stone, we come to realize… we’ve grown tired of jumping. It’s risky and taxing on effort. Some days, we have fallen off the stones and gotten our shoes wet. It’s somewhat a matter of luck, and we would like to be more certain of our stream crossing without the big risk of jumping. We reason that we need more stones!
We go get four more, nice, flat stones for our crossing. We interlay these in-between the stones of our original pathway. Of course, the span of one measure has not changed. We know the original span was four beats wide, and we have already spaced the first stones evenly. These stones belong at the half-way mark in between each original stone.
Now, we don’t have to jump between beats any more; we can jog over the crossing. One foot hits the original beat stones, and the other foot hits these new, half-way beat stones. This is called the “& [and] of the beat.”
So, in our new jogging game, we count [ 1 & 2 & 3 & 4 & ]!
But, day after day, jogging across the stream makes us weary. Some days, we would like to be able to cross more slowly and observe the beauty of nature all around us while we cross, which is why we visit this stream in the first place. Since we’re still having to watch where we’re going while crossing, we can’t fully control our speed, or stop on the way across the stream. Suffice to say, crossing still makes us nervous at times. If the crossing conditions are bad, then it’s still possible to fall off and get our shoes wet. We decide on a new goal: we want to be able to cross this stream, at any pace, without playing any games, just walking naturally, no matter the conditions. We need a reliable, thoroughly built structure to be comfortable, no matter what.
The engineered method
We have decided to build a bridge over the stream. Off we go to quarry blocks of stone. These blocks are methodically cut to specific size and shape; not too small that we must cut so many, but not so big that we won’t be able to build with them. We toil on this bridge for many days, learning the craft of block-cutting and studying the forms of strong bridges. Eventually, we have cut enough blocks to span the stream, and we fit the blocks tightly together into a form that holds its own weight.
When we finish, we have accomplished the end goal for this stream crossing / measure of music. Unlike our flat stone path, now there is no space between any “beat,” or “&.” There is only a continuous form of block that we can leisurely cross over and have no risk of getting our feet wet. Our feet don’t even naturally touch every block.
We can now accomplish our goal of slowing our pace to the point of being able to observe everything surrounding us in nature. While we play this slow game, we can still dance along, counting our small, slow steps, landing on each block of the bridge in a pattern of [1 e & a 2 e & a 3 e & a 4 e & a]. At this stage, we’re going so slow that our movements are slow, controlled and beautiful, like ballerinas. In music terms, I am talking about subdividing on the sixteenth note, or even deeper.
Here’s the point
Rhythm is a recursive structure. It could be built with “stone blocks” of any size.
The purpose of the Stream of Subdivision analogy is intended to be more behavioral than mathematical. Being able to count is a powerful tool but it’s not so important as the sensation of feeling supported by a strong rhythmic scaffold. As you let the metronome click, try to perceive that all the beats and their subdivisions are LOCKED together in their design. Take comfort in the feeling of “getting in the groove” while you play. In our analogy, it takes study and hard work to get there (learning to cut blocks instead of finding flat stones), but the end result stands the test of time. The rhythm of the music, and the metronome counting the beat, is all built to help you. It’s your only job to find a natural pace to make your way across.
Exercise 1 – excessive pizzing
Set the metronome to 90BPM. Pizzicato the A & D string on every other click (so, quarter note tempo = 45BPM). Make sure you’re giving the pizzicato notes a good thump and you get a good blend of both strings. On the off-beats, tap your thigh. Get comfortable with this “excess motion.” Does it feel better when each event is “on its own,” or when everything is fluidly connected together? Speed the metronome up to 120BPM and repeat. (Then, try the metronome double-doubling described below.)
Exercise 2 – sub-subdivision
Practice a major scale at 60BPM; one click per note, and observe your feeling. Do you have a strong sense in your musical ear? Or, does it feel like you’re “flying by night” without much information about your own playing? Now practice a scale at 120BPM, but with 2 clicks per note, and then 240BPM, with 4 clicks per note. (You may have to turn down the volume of the metronome at higher BPM to feel comfortable.) That’s all the same performance tempo. But how does the feel change? I will imagine that you’re getting a lot more information (perhaps too much). But in theory you’re playing has not changed. This is an example of how music is built on a recursive, lattice structure of rhythm. If something you’re playing feels too hard to time up to a metronome, be analytical about what tempo you’re naturally playing, and try these doubling techniques to improve your rhythmic feel.