There’s something to letting your fingers explore a harmonic structure.

I consider myself first and foremost a singer. That’s my passion, and not in the buzzword sort of way. I’m overcome by my interest in the voice. I read books and teach voice, and I sing constantly. I can tell my overall health based on how my voice feels. I know if I’m too tired, stressed, if the air quality is good or bad, have a general idea of humidity, all from how a few sung notes feel. If we’ve had a conversation I’ve probably geeked out over your voice and expressed my thoughts to someone other than you about how much I love something about your voice. I wouldn’t tell you, of course. That would be weird.

So I really am passionate about the voice, and so I’m first and foremost a singer. But as I said, there’s something fundamentally different about getting some harmonic thing under your fingers.

Let’s say I’m working on an idea in the key of B. All right, cool. I love singing in B. Let’s sing a B. Nice. Now, where could we go — uh oh, we went everywhere. Or at least I did. In a breath I’ve floated through two octaves of B-ness, done a blues thing, a scat thing, darkened and lightened the tone, me-may-ma-mo-moo’d a little, and now I’m out of breath. Cool. What’d I learn?

But when I start knocking around on a fretboard, or sit down at the keys — that’s different. I’ll still scale the harmonic wall, but now I’m climbing arpeggios and triads, swinging between grooves, resting and phrasing in a way I wouldn’t as a singer. Not that I wouldn’t as a singer, just not in the same way.

What’s the goal? Usually, as I discuss elsewhere, I’m looking for a musical clause that does one of two things: it asks a question worth answering, or makes a statement worth questioning. I know it when I hear it because my heart flutters or aches, and I’ll feel like a fool awhile while I make sure I can play it well enough to ask my wife what she thinks of my idea.

As a singer, when I get to respond to that idea is when I feel freest. It’s a little gift from my fingers to my soul.

Eww. That’s cheesy. I’ll keep it.

Anyway, the point of all of this is what the title says — get it under your nails! It’s one thing to get the thing under your fingers, but to anyone reading (and I hope that includes my students!) the recommendation I give is go further. Anything you write or work on, don’t just practice is. Obsess over it for a little while. Make it like dirt or paint under your nails that you know, try as you might, isn’t coming out for a few days. You can’t stop thinking about it, you hear it when you try to sleep. That’s where a piece becomes part of you.