Exaggerating ~ Practiceopedia - Phillip Johnston

Billy has a long list of changes he's supposed to make to his piece. None of them are especially difficult - the problem is going to be remembering them all.

There's no need for Billy to worry though. There's something he can do to ensure that each requested change becomes impossible to forget.

...although it means that his practice is going to sound a little...

...umm...unusual...

~ 0 ~

Whether you're simply using pencil marks, or color coding, it doesn't take long before your music is covered with reminders:

* Make these staccatos shorter

* Keep this pp genuinely quiet

* Don't forget the double sharp!

*Raise your wrist as you play this

* Change pedal here

* Use three consecutive downbows here

* Take a quick breath between these notes

* Project the melody more

* Keep these semiquavers even

None of these items are necessarily difficult to get right, but remembering the entire list can be a problem.

There's a tip you can use. Although it's going to make your practice sound a little weird, it's going to be very hard to forget these corrections once you're done.

Creating a lasting impression

The aim of this practice session is to exaggerate each of the items on your list to a point where it sounds like you're creating a parody.

So if one of the pencil marks on your score was a reminder to "Observe this accent," then observe it you will... and then some.

If you're a violinist, this means a crunch and a cloud of resin that would set off fire alarms. A saxophonist would blurt that note until their eyes are bugging out and the neighbours start thumping the walls.

A great ugly overplayed accent? It's a strange thing to do. Which is precisely the point:

Because it was strange, you'll remember it.

Our brains are designed to filter out and quickly forget the same old same old. But they're wired to keep strong - and often permanent - impressions of things that are out of the ordinary.

Create your own oddities

Moments of weirdness like that aren't just going to happen when you practice - you need to create them.

The aim of exaggerating is to turn reminders into out-of-the-ordinary behaviour from you, but behaviour that is based directly on whatever the reminder was asking for.

Let's take a look at how this might apply to some of the items in the list at the start of this blog:

"Make these staccatos shorter"

Anybody in the room listening to you play these notes should think they've heard something... but somehow not sure...

This is going to take some effort and experimenting on your part - in the process, you'll cement in your mind the idea that these notes are supposed to be short.

"Don't forget the double sharp!"

This is a little trickier. That double sharp is either ON or OFF, there's no degree of those two states.

But you can accompany playing the double sharp with unusual levels of fanfare of attention. Pause just before the double sharp, choose a crazy voice and enunciate "DOUBLE SHARP!"

Then play it very slowly and deliberately.

Repeat the passage a few times, pausing every time before the double sharp, and using a brand new voice each time to announce its arrival. The worse the impersonations, the better. The louder, the better.

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. That's the point. You'll remember it because it's stupid.

In fact, after just two such voices, it will be almost impossible not to remember that double sharp now. (and your family is going to be very, very worried about you)

"Draw a quick breath between these notes"

On concert/exam day, you'll take a short, discrete breath that is unobtrusive and allows the melody line to continue unbroken.

But today - because you're practising the breath just to remember that it's supposed to be there - you're going to draw the great shuddering gasp of a chain-smoking buffalo :-)

This is exactly the sort of breath you don't want to make on concert/exam day, but right now, see how much noise you can make with it.

And again, repeat the passage a few times.

You won't breath that way on concert/exam day but you will remember that a breath is due at just that moment.

And then dial it back down

All this craziness is designed to help imprint the issues in your mind - and that's all it's designed to do. This is not a blueprint for how to improve passages or perform with conviction.

Once each issue is imprinted, abandon the exaggerations, and back it up with some practice designed to fine tune delivery of each issue. 

The idea is that now you know you're supposed to play in a certain way, you've got to switch your attention to playing that way well. :-)

Clockwatchers - Practiceopedia by Phillip Johnston

CLOCKWATCHERS

Curing the unhealthy obsession with time

Everyone who knows Benjamin talks about how hard he works. In fact, he does forty minutes of practice every single day. Even on his birthday/

Mind you, it's always exactly forty minutes. Never forty-one, or thirty-nine. And lately, he's just not ready for lessons.

It's hard to see what he's doing wrong though. Or is it...?

~ 0 ~

Clockwatchers have an obsession with how long they've been practicing. The more minutes they use up, the better they think the practice session is.

So while other students are clocking fingerings or listening to phrasing, they clockwatcher's attention is on the time, and their mind is filled with thoughts like this:

          "Great! Only a quarter of an hour to go!"

          or

          "I can't believe all those scales only used up three minutes..."

No concern for the health of the pieces, or their task for the week. Their job is to pass the time, and they keep willing the minute hand to go faster, as if they were a frustrated motorist stuck behind a slow truck...

Clockwatcher logic smashed

Clockwatchers are right about one thing. Doing a good job can take a long time. 

However, it doesn't necessarily follow that if you've taken a long time, then you must have done a good job.

What clockwatchers don't understand is that it's not how long you take. It's what you get done.

Their practice might seem ok...

To outside observers, clockwatchers can seem hard working enough. Because they watch the clock, they'll rarely do less than they're supposed to.

If their teacher had asked for half an hour of practice every day, then the clockwatcher will have done exactly that.

And I mean exactly that. It's all part of a spirit of work which is not interested in what's actually happening, as long as it takes the set number of seconds. We should all be hoping that surgeons  don't work this way too! (I've now spent 2 hours transplanting this liver, that's long enough)

... but they're often not ready

Because they're so focused on the clock, Clockwatchers fall victim to any number of bad habits, usually without realizing it. At the very least, the fact that they're not paying attention to what they're doing means that they are almost certainly engaging in autopilot. 

As a result, when a clockwatcher turns up to their lesson, it might well be after lots of practice - but they often still won't have completed the tasks their teacher needed.

They could do less practice
Here's the irony. If clockwatchers focused less on the clock, and more on what they need to get done, they could actually be ready each week with less practice overall.

It's not about minutes spent. It's about what you get done with those minutes.


The fastest way to cure yourself of clockwatching is to make sure that you have no way of telling the time, so you can concentrate on your music instead.

Figuring out when to stop

Because you can't tell the time anymore, you'll suddenly find that you don't know when you're supposed to stop practicing. Setting closure triggers helps with this.
Some examples: 

* As soon as I can play this entire passage from memory...

* As soon as I have written in a workable fingering for this passage...

* As soon as I can play this passage with the metronome set at 100bpm...

* As soon as I have colour-coded all the dynamic markings in this piece...

* As soon as I have cleanly made this jump five times in a row...

Once you have defined your trigger, keep an eye out for it while you practice. And as soon as it appears, move on - without guilt, and without delay :-)

Clearing Obstacles ~ Practiceopedia by Phillip Johnston

Ella is not having a very happy day. She's been trying to fix a tricky run in her piece, but it's just not getting any better.
"This bit's stupid!" she yells as she flings her book off the music stand. "I'll never get it! I've played it a hundred times already and I've had enough and music lessons are stupid too and I never, never, never, ever want to play the stupid violin again and... and... boo hoo hoo."

Poor Ella. The thing is though, she could probably have saved herself this misery. Not by working harder.

By working differently...

~ 0 ~

We're all taught that if you want to master tough passages, you have to play them over and over and over. That if a section is still not behaving after you've played it 100 times, it's just a sure sign that you really needed to play it 200 times instead. P.S *whispering* (I know I've taught that! he!he!he!)

Sometimes persistence is not the answer - analysis is. Figuring out why your sections are misbehaving in the first place.

If at first you don't succeed, stop and think
It's been said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.
If you've already thrown plenty of practice at a passage, and it's not responding, simply doing more practice is not going to get the job done. In fact you're probably just reinforcing whatever was causing the passage not to respond in the first place.

So your very first step has to be to STOP what you're already doing. Catch your breath... and then find out what's really going on.

Analyze, test and then practice
Once you've stopped the practice that wasn't working, clearing obstacles is a three step process:
     STEP 1. Analyze the passage to identify what the obstacle actually is.
     STEP 2. Brainstorm and test possible solutions.
     STEP 3. Cement the solution that delivered the greatest improvement using repetition.
(Remember, cementing is not practicing. Cementing is a final stage practice technique.)


Let's take these one at a time:

1. Analyze the passage:
It's not enough just to say "this bit is hard." What exactly is it that makes it hard? Is it a tricky jump? An awkward register change? A rhythm you can't feel? A chord you can't reach?

Naming the problem is nine-tenths of fixing it - and while the problem remains unidentified, no amount of practice will improve things for you.

2. Test possible solutions:
Once you've named the problem, it's time to brainstorm possible solutions. If it's a rhythm that you can't feel, perhaps counting while you play will help. Perhaps ignoring the notes and tapping it is the way to go. Perhaps listening to the recording might create an "aha!" moment. Or maybe it's worth doubling every note value to make the rhythm friendlier to the eye and ear.

Armed with a list of possible fixes, try them out. See what works, what doesn't, and then...

3. Cement the solution(s) that delivered the greatest improvement
If one of your possible solutions actually helped, it's worth building into your playing.

So if you had a theory perhaps relaxing your hand and dropping your shoulder would make a fatiguing passage easier to deliver, and you were proved right, then you need to practice doing exactly that.

So no matter what you may have been told about posture, if leaning forward makes the passage easier to play, then it makes it easier to play. Lean forward, save yourself the unnecessary practice you would need to do to cope with leaning back.

Start with the usual suspects

In your hunt for obstacles, there are three that between them, account for the vast majority of passages that don't seem to improve with practice. Before you start looking for more complicated causes, take a moment just to rule these out:

     * Being unclear as to what notes or rhythms actually are. It sounds obvious, but it's amazing how often students will start repeat-playing sections that are filled with basic notereading errors - and then wonder why it keeps sounding wrong despite all their "practice"

     * Unworkable fingerings or bowings. Your choice - you can either spend 5 minutes working out a better fingering, or 5 weeks struggling to master the old ineffective one.

     * Insane tempo. Often  the simplest explanation of all - you can't play this bit, because you're trying to play too fast, You dope!

The zero practice result

Removing an obstacle doesn't just cut back the amount of practice the passage needs - sometimes it can actually mean that you don't need to practice the passage at all. After all, if the cause for a passage being difficult has been removed, the passage should no longer be difficult!

If it is still difficult, then there may be more than one obstacle. Go back, take a closer look.

When you can't find the obstacle (or the solution)
Sometimes you can run a microscope over a passage and still can't discover why it's so hard. And sometimes you will have isolated exactly what's so difficult, but haven't a clue what to do about it.

Your teacher can take if from there. (They've had a lot more experience than you at identifying and clearing obstacles, and can work even better if you flag areas for "please help!")
:-)

Bug Spotting - Practiceopedia - Phillip Johnston

BUG SPOTTING

Because you can't fix what you don't know about :-)

Penny keeps being surprised at lessons by mistakes that she never knew were there.

What frustrates her though is that they feel like mistakes she could easily correct herself... if only she were able to spot them at home.

"It's not that they're hard to find," says her teacher. "It's just that you have to remember to look for them."

Look for bugs in your pieces? How do you do that?

~ 0 ~

PRACTICING IS LARGELY ABOUT SOLVING PROBLEMS. It's about figuring out how to get this piece up to full tempo, or which fingering will make that passage work. It's about discovering why that section on page three sounds so... flat... and how to stop the coda from getting faster.

The more you practice, the better you'll get at solving problems like these.

But there's a danger that you need to be aware of:

You can't solve problems that you don't know are there.

You might be perfectly capable of tidying up some incorrect rhythms in your new piece... if only you had known they were wrong in the first place...

So why does it matter if you miss things like these? Surely your teacher will find them anyway?

1. It wastes lesson time

Your teacher has lots of roles, but pointing out things you could have found for yourself really shouldn't be one of them. Because these details actually do make an enormous difference to how your piece sounds, your teacher has to point them out whenever you miss them. 

Unfortunately though, during that time, your teacher is not helping you become a better player, or showing you new tricks. There's not much room for them to be fun or interesting. (Just how fun can you make "um... there's no flat in front of that B"?) They're just covering ground you could cover yourself - you don't even need a lesson.

What you've done is taken your teacher - someone who might have decades of training in music - and reduced their job to point-out-the-details-my-dopey-student-missed.

Every time your teacher uses lesson time pointing out a detail you could have picked up for yourself, you should ask yourself this:

• "What cool new thing could my teacher be showing me right now instead, if only I had checked this myself?

2. It delays the start of repairs

Instead of starting work on the problem when the evidence first appears, you'll have to wait until your lesson comes around - cutting down the amount of time you then have to actually fix the problem.

3. It embeds the error

With every practice, the missed issue becomes harder to resolve - and because you're getting used to how it sounds, even harder to spot.

Spotting bugs for yourself

If you want to be sure of finding all the bugs, you have to stop your regular practice, and actually look for them.

How? There are a few options...

Bugspotting 1: "Spot" Method

This method is about identifying what needs fixing - it's job is not to fix things. It identifies where issues are:

1. Start by playing from the beginning of the section that you want to survey. 

2. You would then keep playing until the very first thing happens that you wouldn't be happy to have happen in a recital/exam room
It might be a wrong note, or a badly ended phrase. It could be sloppy rhythm delivery, or a fingering disaster.

3. Your job then is to stop playing and put a tiny spot above the exact location of the problem in the music.

4. Pick up from where you were up to, and continue the process. So you'd keep playing until the very next thing happens that you wouldn't be happy to have happen in a recital/exam room. Stop, mark the spot, pick up again... and son on.

5. When you get to the end of the section, simply loop back to the start and continue. If a mistake appears in the same bar on the second pass, then it will get another spot.

 After you've looped half a dozen times, you'll notice that some bars are clear, some have one or two spots... an others look like they have the measles.
When you next practice this passage, you'd start with the bars that have the most spots.

While the spot method is very good at helping you identify where issues are, it provides little information about what the concern was in the first place.
The problem is all the markings start to look the same. Pretty soon they just become as everyday and easy to ignore as the details they were supposed to be highlighting.
Worse still, a bar can have a circle around it, but you'll have no idea why - and so you start to feel guilty about everything in that bar:
"Urk! A circle. Is there a wrong note? Am I playing too loudly? Was I forgetting to observe the rest? Was something maybe an octave too high? I know I had to remember SOMETHING here..."

Students sometimes wonder how pencil marks can breed so quickly in their music - it's because as a one-fit-all reminder, if you need a lot of reminders, you're going to need  a lot of circles.

Here's how it usually works:

Need to remember a tempo change?

Circle it

Forget to observe the rest?

Circle that too

Didn't spot the C#?

Circle that accidental

Playing the turn incorrectly?

Yep, you'd circle that too...

...and so it continues. Before long, your piece is covered with circles, failing to remind you of anything, because each individual pencil mark looks exactly like all the others, and conveys no more information than "watch out for this."

Using colors to help with "what"
Rather than cluttering up your score with written notes every time you stop, consider using color coding to help you remember what each spot was for. 
So, for example, a red spot might mean "misread note." Light green might mean "Rhythm needs 
tightening." Blue might be "not legato enough."

Color stands out, making it more likely that you'll notice reminders in the first place.

But even more important is that you'll be able to tell - at a glance - what sort of reminder it is. As soon as the color is visible, you can tell what it represents.

Bugspotting 2: Record and Review

Sometimes it's easier to hear issues if you're not actually busy playing at the same time. 

This time, instead of stopping every time you notice a mistake, record a complete playthrough.

Then you'd listen to that recording, while carefully following the score. As you notice areas of concern, mark them in.

Again, you're not trying to fix anything... all you're doing is flagging areas as being high priority for future work.

Multiple passes

A sample of one can be a little misleading sometimes - to ensure that you're making recommendations based on typical playing, it's a good idea to record several takes consecutively.

Make separate notes for each take... and then, like the spot method, give highest priority to those issues that keep reappearing.

Bugspotting 3: Stress Testing

One way to identify possible trouble spots in your piece is to set up similar stress tests. Demand more than you need, and see if any cracks appear.

So, for example, if the passage is designed to be played at 120bpm, you might test it at 150bpm...just to see what's still fine, what wobbles, and what collapses completely.

Of course, you don't need to be able to play at 150, but the sections that give way first are usually those that are most likely to be trouble at 120 too.

And of course if you can handle 150, then you have the added bonus on performance day of knowing that you're performing 20% slower than you know you can manage. :-)


Bugspotting 4: Thematic listening
Instead of focusing on the location of errors, thematic listening has you concentrating on types of issues - wherever they may be in the piece.

So, you might play right though, listening just for precise delivery of rhythm. Make a note at the end about the extent to which that's a problem in the passage.

Then you'd switch issues - perhaps this time focusing on articulation. 

By the time you've been through a dozen issues, some will have put their hands up as being major concerns. Others you might get an all-clear for.

Either way, you'll be much better equipped to answer the question "what should I work on next?"



In the next blog, Clearing Obstacles, we'll get some ideas on how to exterminate your bugs, among other things! :-)

Meanwhile, make yourself some fresh copies of the music, and start spotting them bugs! :-D

Bridging - Practiceopedia by Phillip Johnston

BRIDGING

(Smoothing the bumps between sections)

Thomas has been working on a Theme and Variations. Thanks to some solid practice, he can play each variation easily and well.

But when he tries to play the whole piece, it's a different story. He keeps stumbling at the instant where he has to switch from one variation to the next.

Extra practice on the variations hasn't helped. What can he do...?

~ 0 ~

Practicing in sections is usually a good idea. 

But if you always practice in segments, and those segments are always the same, then there's a nasty side-effect waiting for you:

Ugly things can start to grow in the joins between sections.

How does it work? You've done section A. You've done section B. But you've never combined them. So the join was always going to be rough, simply because it's under-rehearsed.

It's the reason that triathletes don't just practice swimming, riding and running. They practice getting out of the water, and onto their bike. And then they practice getting off their bike, and into their running gear. Otherwise, they can lose precious time with clunky changeovers.

Bridging is about practicing those connections, removing the bumps, and ensuring your pieces can flow from beginning to end.

Scouting for bridge locations

If your piece is divided up into 5 segments (A,B,C,D and E), you'll need four bridges:

• From A into B
• From B into C
• From C into D
• From D into E

If you think about if for a moment, you'll realize that in a piece with no repeats, this always holds true - there will always be one fewer bridge than there are segments.

So for a piece with plenty of segments , that also means plenty of bridges.

Don't forget repeats

Courtesy of repeats, codas or first/second time bars, you might have to rehearse a link between the end of D and the beginning of B. Or the end of T and the very start of the piece.

Take a moment to factor in these joins too. (In fact, they're often among the most badly in need of a bridge.)

Building the bridge

Once you know what bridges are supposed to be joining, you can set the boundaries of the bridge itself. Remember, the bridges are really just a set of new sections that happen to span the boundaries of the old ones.

Normally a bridge would run from a few measures before the end of a section, to a few measures into the next section. As a result, bridges are usually much shorter than the original sections.

Changing geography

It's not unusual for bridges to connect quite different types of playing - after all, those differences are probably what defined the sections for you in the first place.

Part of bridging is being able to shift instantly to a new tempo, or tone color, or rhythmic configuration, or range - without needing to have a few beats to warm up into it.

Don't throw out your sections

The point of Bridging is to allow you to keep working in sections, not to have you feeling guilty about using sections in the first place. 

The ultimate test...

... is to be able to play the piece to somebody else without them being able to tell where the sections originally were.

Like quality carpentry, you've paid attention to the joins, and made sure they're a seamless part of the whole :-)

Beginners Syndrome - Practiceopedia by Phillip Johnston

BEGINNERS

“The start of Hailey’s new piece is sounding fantastic. In fact, the start of Hailey’s pieces always sound fantastic.

But the ends of her pieces are a different story. No matter which piece she plays, the closer she gets to the last bar, the worse her playing becomes… until everything collapses in a tangle on the last page.

What’s going on? Why do her pieces sound great at the start, get sick in the middle and die at the end?”

~ 0 ~

There’s a song in The Sound of Music that says something about the beginning being “a very good place to start.” That might be true if you’re reading a novel or competing in the 100 metres final at the Olympics, but it’s not always great advice when you’re practicing.

For a lot of students though, the beginning of their piece is always the only place to start.

No matter what the task in front of them, they always handle it in exactly the same way.

Task: To memorize the development section of the new sonata

Solution:  Play from the start of the piece

 The start? That’s nowhere near the development section…

…but that’s how the Beginners Trap works.

Here’s the same student handling a completely different task.

Task: To work on the tricky cross-rhythms in bars 27-51

Solution:  Play from the first bar (?!)

And if the student suffers from this disease badly enough, then even the following insanity is possible:

Task: To work out an effective fingering for the final 6 bars of the piece

Solution:  Give me a second, I just need to play from the start…

Of course, the result of building bias like this into your practice is that the opening of your piece just keeps getting better and better, while the end sounds as though it’s hardly been practiced at all…

…which is largely because it’s hardly been practiced at all.

Always starting from the top puts in motion a whole series of unintended consequences.

Unnecessary commuting

“Beginners” don’t actively discriminate against the end of their piece. They’re just not factoring in the reality that regions most distant from the start can take serious practice time just to get to.

To take an extreme example, let’s imagine that you had a piece that was 25 minutes long, and your task was to tidy up the ending. If you’re starting from the beginning, it will take you 24 minutes of playing just to get to your target…

… which in a half hour practice session leaves 6 minutes to actually work on the problem.

You might as well have started from where you needed to, and then only done 6 minutes of practice.

So the first price you pay for being a “beginner” is extra practice, to cover the commuting you need to do each day – from the start of our piece all the way to the passage you really needed to fix.

But this wasted travel time is only part of the problem.

Stopping to pick weeds

The 24 minute commute might sound bad enough by itself, but that assumes that you’re playing straight through.

The reality is that if you always start from the beginning, you’ll notice things that need work while you’re traveling.

And so you’ll stop. After all, you've noticed a problem, and you’ll want to fix it. Hard to argue with that.

But since you've stopped, none of the problems that come after the one you’re working on will be visible to you yet. They’ll only be covered once your journey resumes, and if there’s time.

Worse still, for hard-core “beginners,” the journey might not resume. Having dealt with the problem they spotted, they dust their hands off, toll their sleeves… and start again from the beginning…

Stuck in a stationary line

All of this creates an imbalance:

·         Problems near the beginning are guaranteed to get noticed, because the journey to them is short, fitting neatly into even the briefest practice session.

·         Problems near the end though are waiting in line – and it’s a line that items from the beginning can push in  whenever they feel like it. If the practice session ends before you get to them, then that’s tough – they’ll have to wait until next time…

…except that, if you’re a “beginner,” next time you’ll start at the beginning again too… so there is no “next time.” The problem at the end of the piece is always at the back of the line, and the line never seems to progress.

End result? Large slices towards the end of your piece remain not only underpracticed but sometimes unpracticed entirely – no matter how hard you may have been working.

And if things go wrong on concert day…

…there’s only one thing you’ll know how to do. You won’t be able to just pick up from near wherever you got lost, because that’s something you've never done.

Instead, “Beginners” handle that problem the same way they handle every problem in their practice sessions. They start again from the beginning…

The groans from the audience will be almost loud enough to cover the sound of your teacher sobbing. J

Creating new home bases

If you’re a “Beginner,” then it’s not all bad news – will all the attention it’s received, the beginning of your piece will be in great shape. You can then use similar bias in your practice to ensure the rest of the piece is in great shape too.

Remember you didn’t end up being that good at the beginning because the beginning was easy. Or because you liked it more. It happened simply because that was always the place you started from.

If you had a new place that you always started from, then the same thing would happen. Because of the commuting factor, passages near that new start point would receive more attention than the rest of the piece…which is great news if the need more attention than the rest of the piece.

This is exactly how you can turn the Beginners Trap into a powerful practice weapon. The idea is to continue to work with a “home” but to ensure that the home is located near wherever most of your assigned tasks are.

Evolve to nomadic practice

Being smart about the location of your “home” for the week is a great start to correcting some of the imbalances that Beginner practice causes.

But in the end, you want your practice to evolve so that there’s no “home” at all. That way, every note you play is geared towards trouble-shooting, and improving your piece.

You’ll be stunned by the amount of practice time you can save when you work in this commute-free way – and by how much more even the quality of your piece will be.

Using positive discrimination

If your piece has already been affected by the “Beginners” practice trap, then you don’t need to panic. It’s just time to even the score a little. Starting immediately, you would work exclusively on the last page of the piece.

This bias in favour of the end would continue until it’s the same standard as the beginning. Given that the beginning has had a tremendous head start, this might take a while.

And then, when everything is square once more, you’d focus on the second last page of the piece – again, until it’s caught up.

Because it’s that much closer to the beginning, though, it will probably have had a little more attention than the very end originally had, and so shouldn’t need to pedal as hard for as long to catch up. So the process gets easier and easier as you gradually get closer to the start.

Your next new piece

Mix up the order you learn your piece in the first place. It’s very hard to suffer from “Beginners” syndrome when the beginning was actually the 14th section in the piece that you tackled…

Try this out - all the best! L. :-)