Effortlessness is an integral part of my strategy to guitar playing. In fact, it is the defining principle of my life.

But words have their limitations and the term ‘effortless’ is full of ambiguities. I’ve had at least one YSA (Young Smart Aleck) come and tell me he doesn’t practice because he’s doing it the “effortless” way.

Well, there’s a huge difference between effortless playing and not playing at all.

One describes a state of mastery, the other describes a state of general laziness (to use a politically incorrect word).

It got me thinking; how do you distinguish between effortless and no effort?

Here’re a few key differences that come to mind:

I’ve been reading The Little Book of String Theory by Princeton Professor Steven Gubser.

In this extremely well-written book, he manages to explain some pretty heady stuff in easy-to-understand layman’s terms.

For a natural-born skeptic like me, however, it’s hard to believe all the information in the book. I have a hard enough time believing in five dimensions, let alone ten. But I also have a hard time understanding how a 300-plus ton piece of equipment can stay up in the air and yet every summer I get into one to fly to Asia.

One paragraph in this fascinating book caught my attention.

On page 132, Professor Gubser wrote, “Long lists of objects cry out for a unifying theory with fewer elementary objects and a deeper level of explanatory power.”

He went on, “Chemistry’s periodic table receives such a unifying treatment through atomic theory. Helium, argon, potassium, and copper are all as different as they ever were in chemical reactions. But atomic theory reveals that they are all composed of electrons in quantum states of vibration around an atomic nucleus composed of protons and neutrons.”

This seems to me to be the perfect analogy for the principles espoused in the AOV.

On the surface, the different techniques on the guitar – arpeggio technique, scale technique and tremolo technique – may seem completely different and unrelated to one another. But at the basic level, they’re all unified by the same basic principles.

In fact, one can go further and add that on the surface, there doesn’t seem to be much in common between the martial arts, sports, or the classical guitar, but at the fundamental level, they’re all unified by the same goals of achieving speed, power, precision, and endurance.

I’ve never been curious about how things work, as long as they work, that’s good enough for me.

Part of my reluctance to find out how things work is my fear of upsetting the equilibrium.

Mostly, it’s because of my fear of triggering the centipedal effect.

I’m acutely aware of the element of magic in things, afraid that if I mess around with it or try to understand it, it might lose that magic.

That was the way I held my guitar playing. I was afraid to rock the boat. Over the years, I just practiced and followed my instincts, and it seemed to work fairly well.

But all that changed when I started to teach. I found if I wanted to teach, I had to first find out what I was doing and understand it before I could try to impart it.

Without conscious decision, going with my instincts again, I found myself doing something that’s best described as reverse engineering to try to understand what I was doing.

What’s reverse engineering?

It’s taking apart something to find out how it works and then putting it back again and/or building something like it.

Like my other instincts, I found this approach worked the best, especially for understanding something as complex and as nuanced as the human body and human performance.

I know there’s another way, a ‘scientific’ method if you will, where you study something, the body for instance, in great physiological detail, and you come up with precise theories about how it works and you propose precise rules on applying those theories.

For instance, right wrist positioning. You can study the tendons and the carpal tunnel and derive basic assumptions about how the tendons should traverse the carpal tunnel in a straight line and come up with the rule that the wrist should then be held straight to enable the tendons to stay in this straight line. The presumption is that this will avert possible future complications with carpal tunnel syndrome.

It sounds good in theory but in real life (unfortunately we have to deal with real life), it also means you have to hold up the hand to keep the wrist straight. Now, for some people, this will pose no problem because when they relax the wrist, it will still stay in a straight line, but for some people including me, when we relax the wrist, it physically drops. To hold it in a straight line would necessitate holding it up artificially, exerting unnecessary tension on the wrist and worse, locking it up as a result.

Approaching it the reverse engineering way, instead of going into details about body physiology, and postulating theories and imposing them on the body, I approached it from the body’s perspective. I based it entirely on body sensations and on results — the only criteria being whether the position felt natural and comfortable and whether it was producing the results I wanted. Nothing else mattered.

I tried playing holding the wrist in a straight line and allowing it to drop naturally. It was clear that allowing it to drop naturally was more comfortable — it allowed me to play with much greater comfort and freedom resulting in better facility. From this, I derived the basic assumption that relaxation should take precedence over everything else and that such things as positions should be determined by a player’s physiology and not enforced externally.

I applied reverse engineering to the other techniques.

From the tremolo, I derived the importance of a strong forward drive in your fingers by creating an automated engine in the fingers. To arrive at this principle, I analyzed the sensation in my hand and fingers at different times – when I’m not warmed up, when I’m fully warmed up, and when I’m playing at an optimum and I try to identify the key differences between each experience. It became clear to me that the critical component in the technique was the sensation of the forward drive in the fingers. That principle became the cornerstone of my overall strategy to speed.

From the left hand, I learned how essential it is to be constantly on the move, to always stay ahead of your action, not to wait but to start moving before you have to act.

I found validation of this principle from other areas of life. For example, the simple act of catching the bus. If you want to catch a bus, you must start going to the bus stop before it is due to arrive. If you start moving only when it arrives at the bus stop, it’s too late. Yet that’s what many guitar players do in the left hand. They wait until they have to play before they start moving to the frets. That’s usually too late and it’s the cause of most left hand inaccuracies and fret buzzings.

Finding validation from other areas has always been and still is important to me. The last thing I want to be is some lone voice in the wilderness crying about some new startling idea or prophecy.

And validations I found aplenty, in books by great martial artists, in videos of the great players, and in ancient philosophy books. They all seemed to confirm my findings.

Once I understood the basic principles behind each technique, I found I could apply them to other techniques. For instance, I applied the technique of the automated engine to my arpeggio and scale techniques and was able to reap the same benefits.

The AOV is essentially a compilation of all the principles I learned in my efforts at reverse engineering.

I do not pretend it’s the definitive word on the subject. But as I tell my students, take what I offer as a small part of the universe of performance. It may not present the full picture (although I’m fully convinced it does), but try them, test them, and if they work, great, if they don’t, just discard them, you won’t offend me.

And I say the same for my books. If you bought my books and feel you haven’t benefited from them in any way, feel free to return them for a full refund within thirty days.

To ring in the new year, I’ve also decided to make available the student price of the AOV to all. This price of US$8 is for the pdf file alone, and does not include the printed hard copy when it becomes available.

As a teacher, I’ve always believed that you can’t ‘teach’ students. All you can do is help them teach themselves.

It’s a philosophy I found echoed in a passage I discovered recently, in The Wabi-Sabi House by Robyn Griggs Lawrence, a book on interior decorating of all places (albeit with a heavy dose of Japanese philosophy).

The essence of education is not to transfer knowledge; it is to guide the learning process, to put responsibility for study into the students’ own hands. It is not the piecemeal merchandising of information; it is the bestowal of keys that allow people to unlock the vault of knowledge on their own. It does not consist of pilfering the intellectual property amassed by others through no additional effort of one’s own; it would rather place people on their own path of discovery and invention.

-Tsunesaburo Makiguchi

Words of wisdom that should be enshrined in every guitar dojo in the world.

It’s hard to know what’s real and what’s not these days. Fact and fiction are as unreliable as the shifting sands. What’s yesterday’s fact is today’s fiction.

Take medical facts, one day, trans fats are good for you, the next, they’re called Franken-fats. Or politics, yesterday’s yes-we-can visionary is today’s establishment sellout.

Even in the rarefied world of classical guitar playing, yesterday’s god (perhaps a certain gentilhombre of the guitar) is today’s has-been.

Clearly, you can’t rely on anything. It’s a world run by obfuscators.

To help you navigate this brave new world, I’ve decided to put together my own guidelines for would-be obfuscators, a kind of manual that will help you understand their bogus modus operandi.

First, there’s no such thing as truth. To obfuscators, truth is whatever you want it to be. If you’re selling a hot new product, whatever you say IS the truth. (This is useful if you’re a guitar teacher.)

Next, muddy the water. Create confusion in the minds of your followers (or students). Avoid transparency at all cost. Because transparency will give your game away.

How do you do this?

First, say it in the most complex ways possible. Use fancy words, preferably, those that sound authoritative or academic.

Second, say it with as many words as possible. If you can do it in ten pages instead of two, do it in ten. If you can do it in fifty pages, even better. The more words you can lay down, the more convincing you will appear.

And back it up with data, loads of them. Don’t worry about validity, people don’t have time to check details, as long as it sounds authoritative, it’s good enough.

If you can, use scientific terms to back up your theories. If you’re a preacher, quote from the Bible. If you’re a guitar teacher, make sure you use hardcore terms like extensors and flexors.

If possible, put some impressive sounding credentials after your name. Nothing impresses more than a PhD after your name.

To reinforce your credentials, drop names of famous people like Segovia or the latest classical guitar heartthrob. Yes, you can tell stories about how Segovia called you up on your birthday. If you’re too timid to make this claim, you can always say you’re one of his students. This is a failsafe tactic because the man is unable to disown you.

Create myths and legends about yourself. Make up stories, anecdotes, don’t worry about historical accuracy again. No one bothers to check them anyway. And even if someone does bother to check them out, who will believe them?

Create elaborate rituals. Nothing impresses like little personal touches that speak of your genius, especially in public events like masterclasses or concerts. But be sure you rehearse these rituals to make them more convincing.

Keep on hammering on your key issues. Reinforce them in the minds of your followers. Someone once said, I forgot who it was, “People will believe anything if you repeat them enough times.”

And while you’re doing this, don’t forget to demoralize your followers. Yes, if you want their respect, you have to kill every bit of self-esteem in them. Reduce them to mindless robots who will follow your every command, because if you allow them to think, they will start questioning you at some point.

The best way to do this is to completely ignore their strengths and focus on their shortcomings. And shortcomings they will have aplenty, because that’s why they came to you in the first place, that’s why they’re looking for guidance.

In guitar terms, tell them everything they know about guitar playing is wrong, and they have to start from scratch. The hand’s got to be fixed, the seating position’s got to be fixed, the fingers’ got to be fixed. Not enough follow-through? That’s got to be fixed too.

Tolerate no dissension. Once you allow a voice of dissent, you’ve started them on that slippery path to reason and independence from you.

And never fail to remind them you’ve got the keys to the kingdom. You’re the only one who can save them from the fires of hell or the anguish of eternal guitar mediocrity.

Yes, this means creating a dependency complex. But hey, if they don’t become dependent on you, how do you expect them to swear unwavering loyalty to you?

Just some random thoughts on the subject. I might have missed a couple more points along the way.

I’ve become a big fan of Anthony Bourdain. And recently, reading the Les Halles Cookbook, (courtesy of the Palo Alto City Library) I caught this bit of wisdom, artfully articulated in typical Bourdain style.

I am deeply suspicious of any cook who is less than enthusiastic as well about sex, music, movies, travel—and LIFE. A few years back, dining with friends at one of the “best” restaurants in the country, we sat back, after many courses of lovely but sterile, artfully arranged plates of food, curiously unsatisfied. I wondered aloud what was wrong. One of my companions suggested that the chef “cooked like someone who’s never been properly fucked in his life.”

Now, why did that statement make such a big impression on me?

Because I didn’t realized there’s so much in common between cooking and playing guitar.

One of the secrets of speed is to capture the energy in momentum and use it to propel your fingers forward effortlessly.

To do this, you’ll have to play in a smooth continuous action – the approach to the string, the plucking, and the movement back for the next stroke – should all be done in one smooth continuous motion.

Try this on the guitar:

Bring your ‘i’ finger towards a string, perhaps the third string.

Now, pluck the string. As soon as your finger strikes the strings, relax it completely and start moving it to the next note.

There’re two critical points about this.

1, The moment of impact must be the moment of release.

2, It’s also the beginning of the next stroke.

In other words, the end of one action must be the beginning of the next. Even as you strike the string (the end of the stroke) your finger is already moving to the next stroke.

When you connect your actions this way, you will produce incredible momentum in your fingers. Each action will flow seamlessly into the next with no break in continuity.  You will feel as if you’ve created an automated engine in your fingers, each note propelling you to the next, smoothly and effortlessly.

This seamlessness in your actions is especially crucial in arpeggios, tremolos, scales, or anything that requires a continuous flow of actions.

That’s the technique of rolling with the momentum.

As soon as you start the action, keep moving, don’t lose the momentum, instead, use it to propel yourself to the next action.

You can read more about the concept of the automated engine in the AOV for Guitar and its core principle of fluidity in the AOV.

The secret of speed in guitar playing is not speed but finger independence.

Forget about ballistic movements, about explosiveness — that may work for other sports and the martial arts — but on the classical guitar, what you need is finger independence.

Think of it this way.

Try plucking four quarter notes at 152 with one finger, let’s say the ‘i’ finger, and you’ll find it’s not so hard to do. You can move that one finger quite comfortably at that tempo.

Now try playing a tremolo (four 32nd notes) at 152 with four fingers (p a m i) and you find it’s not so easy to do.

What’s changed? You’re still essentially playing each finger once at 152.

What’s changed is the added number of fingers involved. The fingers are interfering with one another as you play.

The problem comes down to finger independence.

When you have more fingers involved, each one of them will cause the others to  move with them as they pluck, a phenomenon called sympathetic motion.

The real secret of speed in guitar playing is to minimize this effect as you play.

Once you can produce a sympathetic-motion-free movement in your fingers, speed automatically occurs.

Some people will try to counter the effect of sympathetic motion by brute force.

I actually took lessons years ago with one of these people. His solution to counteract sympathetic motion is to get students to practice kicking out the other fingers in the opposite direction when plucking with one finger.

I’ll let you imagine the consequences of just such an unnatural exercise.

No, you can’t fight nature, you’ll have to work with it.

There’re two ways to reduce sympathetic motion naturally.

1. Move the fingers upward in circular motion. As soon as your finger clears the string, release all tension and allow it to move upward to re-position itself for the next stroke. This will produce a circular or oval shaped trajectory at your fingertips as you play.

2. Minimize the follow-through. After you’ve plucked the string, any movement after that is superfluous and unnecessary.

There’re other factors involved in achieving speed – such as looseness, lightness, fluidity (all basic components of virtuosity as described in the AOV). All these techniques and strategies are described in detail in the AOV for Guitar too.

But the crucial factor is still finger independence – allowing each finger to move freely and without interference from the other fingers.