After a student has been taking lessons for a little bit, she often reports that she can hear on the radio a certain beat she just learnt. Now, I think that’s great because it means that I teach things that are very practical, but it also shows how someone’s curiosity expand with their knowledge of a subject. You’ve been huffing and puffing on the kit for a month and, all of the sudden, you just put a new piece of the puzzle to your world. “I recognize that beat on the latest Taylor Swift/Justin Bieber/Ed Sheeran song!” you say. “Wow! I didn’t know they used what I know on song that’s gotta be making millions!” you continue. And then, inevitably, the mind wanders. “What if I was to pursue my studies with Sol? Could I be playing in front of hundred of thousands of fans one day?”
That’s the organic curiosity. It’s fueled by dreams and hopes as well as sobering reality checks. The whole thing pushes you to explore further.
Sometimes people pick up a biography of one of their favorite artist, read it in one night and come back with all sorts of fascinating facts, comments or questions. Sometimes they branch out. Chances are, if they have an interest in Jazz, they will eventually want to know about Latin beats. Sometimes they buy a new drum kit and they have to move to be able to play it “full blast” which is the only true way to achieve drumming bliss (this is common knowledge). Sometimes they join a band, any band, because those skills need a work out. Then they want to get into a working band, start to think about music in a business way. And, yes, sometimes, they end up playing with Justin Bieber or Cake.
Organic curiosity is where my job gets fascinating. The conversation drifts away from the course I had designed to take on new avenues, new subjects and new passions. I encourage it. All ideas and concepts are welcome.