To want to play perfectly, with beautiful tone, correct rhythm, great intonation, and virtuosic technique, is a good starting point, but it turns practice into a stressful activity instead of an enjoyable one. It encourages the mind to condemn our every little mistake, and it causes what could have been an interesting accident to become a source of frustration and disappointment. Eventually, it brings about fear of mistakes and so the muscles tighten and the breath shortens and the music ceases to be spontaneous.
I’d go so far as to say that there is no beauty in perfection. The best musical performances are always those that have a little bit of human fallibility to them — little time errors, slight changes in volume, some arbitrary change in tone. This is not to say that they’re “mistakes.” Rather, they’re the mark of a human being expressing herself musically. A note played “correctly” is often rather sterile and unpleasant compared to one played “wrong” that has been invested with emotion and meaning. What listeners most appreciate is authenticity, not precision, because the heart always recognizes when it’s seeing its own vulnerability echoed back at it.
That removal of perfectionist constraints also releases the practice. If errors are not things to be avoided at all costs, but rather a normal part of the practicing, it is easier and less tense. The musician can play around with phrases, sustain a note longer than marked, fudge an attack, etc., without having to constantly explain herself. Opening up to that kind of creativity and play helps to make playing music fun again. It’s no longer the performance of a part, but a discussion between the player and the music, and the only ‘right’ way to do it is to be sincere.
As a result of this newfound mindset, the circle of positivity begins. Freed from the burden of perfection, the body starts to relax, breathing becomes more complete, and focus is increased. Technical control can actually develop more quickly with this mindset since the nervous system is not battling with itself. This confidence does not come from not making mistakes, but from believing that even imperfect instances can also be expressive. The musician begins to pursue truth and honesty in performance rather than mere accuracy, and through that, a more personal connection to music is felt.
Ultimately, accepting imperfection is not a lowering of the bar; it is a raising of the bar to account for the human element. The best performers are never the most perfect, but are the ones who allow their unique personality to shine through despite the flaws. When the myth of perfection is dropped, the performer gains something much more precious: their actual, human voice that can communicate to others because it is real, it is alive, and it is unmistakably human. That is the sustained pleasure that can never be matched by a lifetime of playing the right notes.