"There is nothing like practice"
About this Quote
Spoken by a composer who wrote dozens of symphonies and hundreds of pieces, the line is both plain and radical. It cuts through the myth of effortless genius and sets the creative life on its simplest footing: show up, work, repeat. Talent, inspiration, even education matter, but they do not replace the daily encounter with the instrument, the page, the ear. Practice is where ideas are tested, muscles and reflexes are trained, and judgment is sharpened until craft and intuition begin to speak with one voice.
Alan Hovhaness knew this as biography, not slogan. He famously destroyed stacks of early scores after harsh criticism and rebuilt his art with a near monastic dedication, producing a body of music that is both disciplined and luminous. He studied counterpoint and non-Western traditions with equal seriousness, absorbing raga-like modal thinking, drones, and long melodic arcs, then refining them through rigorous technique. That blend of spiritual aspiration and methodical labor became his signature. The patient repetitions musicians call practice were, for him, a form of contemplation: by returning to the same gestures, scales, and textures, he found new clarity, as if polishing a stone until it gleamed.
There is a moral edge to the phrase nothing like. No shortcut equals the steady habit of practice; no gadget, trend, or flash of acclaim can substitute for hours spent listening closely and correcting what you hear. For performers, this means embouchure, bow control, breath, intonation; for composers, it means daily writing, ruthless revision, and learning how instruments truly sound. The paradox is that repetition breeds freedom. Hovhaness could summon vast, serene soundscapes precisely because his materials were mastered to the point of ease. The lesson travels far beyond music: cultivate the conditions under which insight can visit, and it will visit more often. Practice does not guarantee brilliance, but nothing else brings you as reliably to its door.
Alan Hovhaness knew this as biography, not slogan. He famously destroyed stacks of early scores after harsh criticism and rebuilt his art with a near monastic dedication, producing a body of music that is both disciplined and luminous. He studied counterpoint and non-Western traditions with equal seriousness, absorbing raga-like modal thinking, drones, and long melodic arcs, then refining them through rigorous technique. That blend of spiritual aspiration and methodical labor became his signature. The patient repetitions musicians call practice were, for him, a form of contemplation: by returning to the same gestures, scales, and textures, he found new clarity, as if polishing a stone until it gleamed.
There is a moral edge to the phrase nothing like. No shortcut equals the steady habit of practice; no gadget, trend, or flash of acclaim can substitute for hours spent listening closely and correcting what you hear. For performers, this means embouchure, bow control, breath, intonation; for composers, it means daily writing, ruthless revision, and learning how instruments truly sound. The paradox is that repetition breeds freedom. Hovhaness could summon vast, serene soundscapes precisely because his materials were mastered to the point of ease. The lesson travels far beyond music: cultivate the conditions under which insight can visit, and it will visit more often. Practice does not guarantee brilliance, but nothing else brings you as reliably to its door.
Quote Details
| Topic | Training & Practice |
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