🫣The Most Frightening Thing I’m Seeing in the Studio Right Now

The scariest sound in the studio these days isn’t a missed note or a wrong chord. It’s the sound of RUSHING. Feet tapping too fast. Fingers flying over keys before the brain catches up. Eager hands closing their books the moment they’ve reached the final measure—even if they’ve barely played it.

It’s not just music. It’s a mindset. And it’s everywhere.

Learning music is like planting a garden. You don’t throw seeds into the ground and yell, “Grow faster!” It takes attention. Daily care. A little sun, a little rain, and a whole lot of patience. But in the studio lately? I feel like I’m watching kids throw seeds, sprint to the other side of the field, and demand a harvest before the soil’s even warm.

Just last week, a young piano student sat at the bench, eyes wide with excitement. “I practiced this one!” she declared triumphantly. Her fingers launched into the piece at a breakneck pace, leaping over wrong notes, ignoring rhythms, skipping through dynamics like they were speed bumps. I gently interjected, “Wait, let’s take a moment here—do you notice what this left hand is doing?” She didn’t hear me. She was halfway through the page before I could finish the sentence.

And this isn’t rare.

Students are rushing through their songs—not just in tempo, but in attitude. There’s a frantic need to get to the end. To finish. To put a sticker on it. To say it’s “done.”

I see it in the studio. I feel it in my own life. We’re all zipping from one commitment to the next. Maybe we’re still trying to make up for time lost during the pandemic. Maybe it’s the relentless tick of tech and AI and a world that moves faster than ever. But somewhere along the way, we’ve started confusing speed with success.

Here’s the thing…

We don’t need to move faster.
We need to move more consciously.

Yes, checking a box feels good. It gives us that rush of accomplishment. But what are we missing in that rush? The beauty. The nuance. The chance to wonder. The deep joy that comes from knowing we built something slowly, deliberately, and with care.

We need to help our students slow down. To break down a difficult section into smaller skills. To get curious about the why, not just the what. To feel where the tension is in their bodies. To listen for the story in the music. To engage their brains as well as their voices and fingers.

Because—let’s be honest—good art can’t be rushed. Leonardo DaVinci once said “Art is never finished, only abandoned.”

A Powerful Perspective:

One of my favourite books, The Practicing Mind by Thomas M. Sterner, speaks right to this:

“You cannot control what you are not aware of. Awareness must come first. When, instead, your goal is to focus on the process and stay in the present, then there are no mistakes and no judging. You are just learning and doing.”

And this:

“In those times when we want to acquire a new skill or face a formidable challenge we hope to overcome, what we need most are patience, focus, and discipline…”

Three words that feel almost old-fashioned now: Patience. Focus. Discipline. Commitment.
But they are exactly what we need. As artists. As teachers. As parents. As learners.

Let’s model this for our students. Let’s praise progress, not speed. Let’s normalize struggle and celebrate thoughtful repetition. Let’s teach them to be present, not perfect. To be curious, not just compliant. Let’s remind them—and ourselves—that the real magic isn’t in the moment we finish a song. It’s in the moments when we notice, feel, and grow – both personally and artistically. ✨

Let’s slow down, breathe, and find joy in the journey.

Because the roses are blooming—and they’re worth stopping for.

Keep singing,

Andrea “smelling the roses” Donais