Over two decades ago I had the pleasure of seeing Doc Watson perform live in Columbus, GA. He was in his late 70s.
I’d “discovered” Doc perhaps two years before then. I’d never heard anyone play guitar like that.
But the albums I had were decades old, recorded when Doc was a much younger man.
Going into the concert, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
Describing it as mind blowing sounds cliche. But that’s what it was.
Not only did he still sound just like he did on his albums, he was even better than I realized.
He could play all the classics at the same blistering tempos, just as clean, with the unmistakable timing and tone that makes the hair on your neck stand up.
But, in addition, he could improvise one perfectly composed break after another. And it seemed he could do so forever.
He was in total command creatively, technically, musically. I’d have been blown away by a musician of any age with those skills.
But, if popular culture was to be believed, Doc was far past his “prime.” According to the story of aging, his brain should not have been capable of the lightning fast transmission required to pick, create, and entertain at the speed of sound.
I love moments like these. Moments where you realize that something you thought to be an inviolable law of the universe is shown to be wrong.
In this case, it was the story we’d told about aging and the brain.
The story about a relentless “aging process” that causes an inevitable and irreversible deterioration in our skills and cognitive abilities over time.
Of course, that story didn’t appear out of thin air. It was based on the fact that many times skills do deteriorate with age.
The question then becomes: what determines when that does and doesn’t happen? If that’s what happens to most, why didn’t it happen to Doc?
Answering those kinds of questions is why we do science.
In 1996, scientists Anders Ericsson and Ralf Th. Krampe designed a study to find out.
They recruited 48 pianists and divided them into four groups: young experts, older experts, young amateurs, and older amateurs. The young musicians averaged about 25 years old, the older ones about 60.
Then they tested them on a series of music-specific skills like rapid bimanual coordination and musical interpretation.
Compared to the younger amateurs, the older amateurs had declined.
But the older experts? Their performance equaled that of the young experts, and was superior to that of the young amateurs. Better than musicians half their age.
And what was the single best predictor of whether skills were maintained or declined? Practice time.
The best predictor of their music-related abilities wasn’t age, but how much they’d practiced. The musicians who were still practicing 10 hours per week or more were the ones who’d maintained the skills of their youth.
In other words, the fact that Doc never stopped playing and performing is why he was able to continue playing and performing. He kept feeding his brain what it needed to keep those circuits in peak condition.
When expert musicians reduce or stop the amount of time they spend playing and performing, their skills decline. Many times, that’s an intentional choice. Priorities change.
That’s why skills tend to decline with age. Not because the brain has more miles on it, but because the brain is no longer receiving what it needs to maintain those specific neural pathways and motor programs.
The point is that 'aging' is a scapegoat. The skills we maintain through continued deliberate practice can remain remarkably intact. If there are abilities you care about preserving, know that you have far more say in the matter than you've been led to believe.
I also made a video version featuring Martha Argerich doing the “impossible” at 83:
This is a most welcome study outcome to hear about. In retirement I finally have the time to practice 10 hours per week. Still trying to be Doc Watson!
Thank you Dr. Turknett! Very encouraging, speaking as someone who, at the age of 72, has decided to learn to play the piano.