Play it again, Sam

Today I spent the better part of an hour practicing a grand total of 24 measures in the solo I'm learning. It was simultaneously heartening and depressing. Depressing, because I had to repeat it over and over and over again to go back and fix something (or several somethings). Heartening, because I'm pretty sure I had it almost up to tempo--which is lickety-split fast--and because I could pinpoint exactly what was wrong and I knew how to fix it. It might take me three or four repeats to find the right way to fix it, but I could fix it (although whether or not it would stay fixed the next time I played was still sort of dicey). Finally, the endless hours of ensemble rehearsal are having an effect. If you spend almost nine and a half years under a conductor's baton, you eventually pick up on the specific remedies for specific things. For a long time, I felt like I was playing music by feel--just sort of flailing around and hoping I get it right enough to make playing it right a habit. But now I finally understand and know enough to practice with precision. I think those 24 measures improved, although it's hard to be really objective when you're the one playing, but even if they didn't, I came out of that practice room feeling like I had accomplished something. And that, my friends, is immensely satisfying.