I spoke in my last blog about the importance of imitating the greats. They teach you valuable lessons which you don’t need to discover anew, but can simply borrow and adapt to your own purposes. Sometimes in studying the greats, however, I get overwhelmed at their mastery. There are time when I want to write intricate, independent lines, so I study Bach. I end up walking away bemoaning, a bit melodramatically, “I’ll never be as good as Bach!” My wife affectionately rolls her eyes and says, “I don’t want you to be Bach.”
There’s a well-known story about the American Jazz pianist and composer George Gershwin. He made an attempt to study under the renowned composer Maurice Ravel. Ravel declined that tutelage saying, “If you studied under me I would merely make you a second-rate Ravel, but you’re already such a good Gershwin.”
The truth is, you don’t need to be Bach, or Beethoven, or Ravel. In fact, trying to imitate your favorite composer too closely stifles your own unique voice—the convergence of your tastes, experiences, and skills. You can never outdo the greats on their own terms, but you don’t need to. Should I stop speaking to my children because I can’t speak with the eloquence of Shakespeare? Should I stop playing cello for my friends because I can’t write a suite like Bach’s? No. In my life now, to the people I am with, I bring something that the greats of the past never could.