"There is nothing like practice"
About this Quote
Brisk, almost stubborn, "There is nothing like practice" reads less like a motivational poster than a composer’s shrug at romantic myths about inspiration. Hovhaness spent his life working in a corner of 20th-century music that didn’t always flatter the era’s prestige languages. While institutions rewarded avant-garde novelty or academic complexity, he pursued a devotional clarity: modal melodies, spiritual atmospheres, the long breath of Armenian and Asian influences. In that context, the line lands as a quiet manifesto. Not "genius will save you", not "the right theory unlocks the secret", but the unglamorous accumulation of hours.
The intent is practical, yes, but also defensive. Practice becomes the one argument that can’t be snubbed: it’s democratic, repeatable, and immune to taste. The subtext is a rebuke to the cult of the breakthrough. Composers are supposed to be struck by lightning; Hovhaness implies you earn the weather. It’s also an aesthetic claim. Music that aims for trance, patience, and radiance can’t be faked by cleverness; it needs the body trained into steadiness, the ear trained into humility. Practice is where ego gets sanded down and craft becomes character.
The line’s power comes from its spareness. No metaphor, no flourish - just a plainspoken insistence that art is made the same way as scales: by returning, again and again, to the work. In a century obsessed with newness, it’s a reminder that depth is often just repetition done honestly.
The intent is practical, yes, but also defensive. Practice becomes the one argument that can’t be snubbed: it’s democratic, repeatable, and immune to taste. The subtext is a rebuke to the cult of the breakthrough. Composers are supposed to be struck by lightning; Hovhaness implies you earn the weather. It’s also an aesthetic claim. Music that aims for trance, patience, and radiance can’t be faked by cleverness; it needs the body trained into steadiness, the ear trained into humility. Practice is where ego gets sanded down and craft becomes character.
The line’s power comes from its spareness. No metaphor, no flourish - just a plainspoken insistence that art is made the same way as scales: by returning, again and again, to the work. In a century obsessed with newness, it’s a reminder that depth is often just repetition done honestly.
Quote Details
| Topic | Training & Practice |
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