The Top 10 Mental Traps Musicians Fall Into – and How They Hinder Creativity

1. I’m just not getting anywhere with this piece

We all know the feeling. You’re practising a piece and simply not making any progress – easily one of the most frustrating situations. Certain bars or even entire passages just refuse to click, no matter how many days you’ve put in. It’s disheartening. Beginners often run into these early hurdles, but I don’t doubt that even (semi-)professional musicians and big names in the field face the same thing. You’ve tried every trick: stop-start practice, new fingerings, finger tapping like Glenn Gould, experimenting with rhythms and accents, hands separately, and more – but still, nothing works. I can even recall passages I’ve composed myself, yet still had to practise for weeks before they finally felt secure and expressive. Your motivation nosedives and you start to wonder why you even bothered with this wretched piece.

Perspective is crucial here. The way to break through is to give yourself not just time to practise, but also time to really understand. Small, thoughtful practice rituals can be a great starting point:

• Put on your favourite socks or jumper to practise in.
• Make your favourite tea in your favourite mug. If you don’t have one – treat yourself! It matters.
• Air out the room before you start, and keep doing so as you practise. Fresh air helps you think.
• Don’t always attack the whole piece; focus on those stubborn passages that won’t settle.
• Don’t overload yourself – if you only managed half your plan, it’s still worthwhile.
• Now and then, work backwards – start at the end of the piece.
• Remind yourself what a privilege it is to nurture your own talent. Treat your practice as a journey, not a race.
• Look forward to practising. When you genuinely anticipate something, you prepare for it willingly – and spare yourself the draining overthinking.

There are few activities that fire up as many regions of the brain as playing music does. It’s true – look it up. Your brain is working at full throttle! So don’t be afraid to give yourself a pat on the back: today you put in your practice and kept at it. Progress can feel agonisingly slow, almost like standing still – but the opposite is true. Tricky passages just need time, and learning to be patient with yourself is one of the most important lessons – in music and in life.

2. I’ll learn to play the piano in just one week

By now, there’s a whole jungle of music-learning apps and “quick win” courses: “Learn piano in just a month”, “10 pieces in 10 weeks”… Usually, they promise instant gratification – but rarely deliver lasting success. This goes for learning apps as much as for any other digital tool. They can be useful for getting started and finding your bearings, but no app or course can replace proper, self-directed practice and real engagement with the score. It’s often much more helpful to set yourself small tasks, or come up with creative ideas for your own piece. And don’t underestimate the impact of printed sheet music: more tends to stick in your mind when you can scribble notes on paper, instead of endlessly swiping on a screen.

Some ideas might include:

• Start at the very beginning of the piece: time signature, key, tempo, dynamics, and so on. Look up anything you don’t recognise.
• Write down the harmonies for each bar and play them through. It helps you grasp the structure of the piece.
• Progress is not always about quantity – often it’s about quality. You don’t need to learn a new piece every week.
• Repetition and deepening what you already know are just as important.
• Regular, moderate practice every day is the key to success. Thirty minutes daily is better than eight hours once a week.
• Don’t rush the learning – change your perspective: practise not for achievement, but for the sheer joy of it.

Don’t turn practising and learning into a race – make it more like a stroll. Access to sheet music has never been easier, and the wealth of interpretations has never been greater. Making music should also be a spiritual matter – not just a treadmill of learning piece after piece, perfecting technique, or winning competitions. Some people exercise just to stay fit and healthy; why not make music simply to keep yourself mentally fit and balanced?

3. But I want to play something else

Sadly, music as a form of coercion or parental pressure is nothing unusual. Many parents want their children to learn an instrument – and not always for the right reasons. Through music, you discover whole new worlds, make friends, learn patience with yourself and with others, and often find your own inner voice. Parents can benefit too, by discovering new musical genres and hearing stories they’d never otherwise encounter. But you don’t have to restrict those experiences to Chopin, Tárrega, or Paganini. Of course it can be Slipknot, Blink-182, or AC/DC! And yes, it works with any instrument. The idea of shredding an electric guitar solo for Grandma at Christmas or rattling out a drum solo is anything but absurd. Why not? Everything is music – and music, like people, is always evolving.

Discovering your own style and way of interpreting music – and with it, your passion – is a huge gift. So why grumble about the “colour of the wrapping paper”? Parents should remember that four things are especially important for musical development:

• Show support, give encouragement, and be genuinely interested.
• Don’t pile on the pressure, or treat music lessons as a time or money drain.
• Realise that every relationship with an instrument has its ups and downs.
• A good relationship – with an instrument or a person – is something you live, not just talk about.

Music isn’t just about developing dexterity or skill – it helps you see yourself and your world in richer colours, and strengthens your personality. Coercion, criticism, and pressure have no place in that relationship. Instead, get informed and, as a parent, take an interest in music yourself – even if only in theory. Well-meaning but endlessly repeated advice usually has the opposite effect. So let’s inspire the next generation by living our own love of music and experiencing it together – ideally, right at home.

4. The illusion of the golden interpretation

There are countless unforgettable interpretations by artists we love to emulate. For me, some examples are Chopin’s “Heroic” Polonaise by Rafał Blechacz, Chopin’s Ballade No. 1 by Janusz Olejniczak, Liszt’s “Reminiscences of Mozart’s Don Giovanni” by Lang Lang, Rachmaninoff’s Étude Op. 39 No. 6 by Valentina Lisitsa, Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition” by Evgeny Kissin, Schumann’s “Scenes from Childhood” by Martha Argerich, Chopin’s “Fantaisie-Impromptu” by Daniil Trifonov, Gluck’s “Melody” from “Orfeo and Eurydice” by Yuja Wang, and Rubinstein’s interpretation of Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 27 No. 2. And as a fan of Glenn Gould’s Bach, I can’t leave out his recording of the Toccata from Bach’s Partita No. 6.

Of course you can – and should – learn from your favourite interpretations. Often, they’re the starting point of your own artistic development. But they should never become a “gold standard” that blocks your personal access to a piece. In short:

• Let inspiration fuel your own ideas – don’t just imitate. You have something to say, too.
• Let elements of your favourite interpretations flow into your style.
• Borrow colours from your idols to expand your sound – without painting over your own style.
• Record yourself from time to time and really listen. It sharpens your self-awareness and helps you hear what you actually sound like.

I often lean into passages that fascinate me – a trill, a run, a particular accent – and try to blend those colours into my own playing. But I’ve found I always have to adapt them to my sound-world; otherwise, it can sound like a patchwork of clashing fragments. Recording yourself and listening back is invaluable, as real self-listening can slip away during long practice sessions. At first, you’re focused on technique and accuracy, but even a short phone recording can reveal new nuances. I’ve often thrown out an entire interpretation, reconsidered it, and found my own true approach in the process. In short: you can be your own inspiration, too – if you’re willing to change your perspective.

5. Practise more, practise more, practise more …

We often put in hours of practice and end up with stiff shoulders just to conquer difficult passages. But more practice doesn’t automatically mean better practice – especially if you try to do too much or overestimate your own ability (like starting out with Liszt’s “Dance of Death”). Of course, it’s frustrating when your schedule slips. But more often than not, the problem isn’t you – it’s the plan. You risk losing your love for music, burning out, or even injuring yourself – tendinitis, for example, is a real hazard. Real progress never comes from overloading yourself. Sometimes it’s absolutely fine to spend a whole afternoon working on just two or three bars. Why not? Everyone has different hurdles: runs, accents, voicing, trills, jumps – we all have our favourite stumbling blocks. And breaks are just as vital as practice itself, because your brain needs time to lock in new movements. Here are my tips:

• A good night’s sleep – you’ll be surprised how much comes together the next day.
• Every repetition counts. Your brain remembers movements better with each go – so do them with care.
• Revisit the advice from earlier: write out the harmonies and play through them. A harmonic map helps you find your way in the piece.
• Try out different learning methods – stop-and-go, finger tapping, and so on – and mix things up now and again.
• Think of yourself as practising, not performing. Mistakes should happen here – that’s how you learn.

The aim shouldn’t be to dash through pieces and then never return to them, but to grow your repertoire and have it secure “under your fingers.” Practice also means deepening your connection with music you already know. Looking beyond your own playing – for example, by listening to how others interpret the same work – can spark fresh ideas. I always look for patterns in what trips me up: if I struggle with a run, I use stop-and-go; with tricky fingerings, I try different options as the tempo increases. Seeing how versatile a single approach can be is incredibly helpful – and shows that it’s not about how long you practise, but how well. Even practising is a skill in itself.

6. My talent only goes so far

All those toxic thoughts often end with a feeling that you just don’t have the talent, and maybe you should give up. But that’s nonsense! After weeks of hard work, rising pressure, poor scheduling, and growing frustration, it’s understandable to think this way – but it’s simply not true. As we’ve seen, it’s rarely down to a lack of talent – and certainly not because “I’ll never get there.” The reasons usually lie elsewhere:

• Comparing yourself unrealistically to big names, which only leads to demotivation.
• Poor time management and vague goals – you’re biting off more than you can chew.
• Inconsistent, unfocused practice sessions and distractions (like your mobile phone).
• A lack of inner calm or an unsuitable environment (see above).

It’s no secret that musicians competing internationally are performing pieces they’ve known and played for over five years on average. Those works are practised regularly for years, and then polished measure by measure in the run-up to a competition – often for six to eight hours a day. Of course, as a beginner doing four hours a week, you’re working on a different scale. But if you look honestly at your own practice routine, you’ll quickly see that it’s not about talent – it’s about the quantity and quality of your practice.

We often forget that music isn’t just art, but also a craft. Mastering any craft – doing it with ease, having your knowledge at your fingertips, and being able to pass it on – takes decades. So rather than questioning your talent or work ethic, question your time management and focus. Do that, and the dark clouds over your score will start to clear all on their own.

7. The disastrous performance in front of an audience

Whether it’s the Royal Albert Hall or just Christmas at your aunt’s house: the botched run, the wrong chord, or the total blackout – making mistakes in front of others is always nerve-wracking and discouraging. Even if you know you practised hard, it’s hard to find comfort. Advice like “Don’t stop practising when you get it right – stop when you can’t get it wrong” isn’t much help in those moments, at least in my experience. Here’s what has helped me:

• You will slip up – and it will happen, because we’re only human and nobody’s perfect. And that’s fine.
• Your idols have also made mistakes, had bad reviews, and survived minor and major disasters. It’s part of the profession.
• Don’t judge any artist by a single performance – good or bad. That goes for you, too.
• Musicians aren’t striving for perfection, but for authenticity. Let your music speak for you, not someone else’s standards.
• It takes guts to go on stage – give yourself credit for that.
• Yes! Everyone gets nervous – no matter how many concerts they’ve given.

With computers and sound libraries, you can make a “perfect” performance in no time. But who wants that? Real musicians go beyond that, creating an authentic sound world that’s utterly unique. No two interpretations are ever quite the same – and that’s the magic of it. As you make small and big mistakes along your musical journey, remember that every musician walks this same path. Don’t let errors get you down – remind yourself that you had the courage to step up and play, even knowing something could go wrong. That’s a far more helpful perspective, and it helps you see the real issue: nerves.

Instead of beating yourself up, find pre-performance routines that help you. Honest chats with fellow musicians can work wonders. Simply knowing that nerves are always present – and that, with the right mindset, they can actually become motivation – is vital. And as Beethoven said: “To play a wrong note is insignificant; to play without passion is inexcusable!”

8. Learning by heart and sight-reading

Ever since Clara Schumann first stepped out onto the stage in front of a packed hall without a score and played an entire concert from memory, people have seen this as something almost miraculous. Years before, the young Mozart astonished audiences by playing with his eyes covered. These days we know that constant practice and repetition strengthen the connection between the hands and the brain, making it possible to play from memory. Yes, even without looking – because feeling your way across the keys with your hands gives you another sense of where you are.

Playing from memory and conjuring music from “thin air” like a magician, with no visible aid, is an incredible feeling for many musicians. But that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Decades of research show how closely the muscles, the music, and the brain’s movement and memory centres are linked. But these connections have to be built over time. What’s even more important, in my view, is reading music and learning to sight-read. Many find this a nightmare, but it’s where the real magic lies: picking up a score you’ve never seen before, playing it straight away, and after a few repeats already starting to interpret it musically. In my opinion, this is the foundation that makes all other practice much easier. There’s no magic formula for learning it, but these tips help:

• Consistency is everything. Ten to fifteen minutes of sight-reading a day is plenty at first. Fit it in at the start or end of your practice.
• Start small. Bach’s Inventions are a brilliant place to begin – and you don’t have to use both hands straight away.
• Choose a tempo you’re comfortable with. Sight-reading always feels hard; it only looks easy for those who’ve done it for years.
• Practising with one hand at a time is great for hand independence. If possible, begin with just one hand.
• Increase the challenge gradually: start with pieces without ledger lines, then try single-hand pieces with them (e.g. week 1 in treble clef, week 2 in bass, week 3 in both).
• Sight-reading is about persistence, not perfection. Don’t worry if it sounds a bit off – that’s what practice is for!

I think it’s clear: practice and patience go hand in hand – and that’s especially true here. With steady, regular effort, the breakthrough will come. And don’t worry if it sounds strange or even wrong at first – that’s exactly why you practise!

9. I only play XYZ!

Speaking from experience: if you were forced to read a book at school, you probably hated it – even if, under different circumstances, you might have loved it. It’s the same with certain pieces or composers. Bad teachers can suck the life out of any composer or piece; good teachers do the opposite. Thanks to them, we often discover techniques and musical ideas in works and composers we once thought we “couldn’t stand”.

Put bluntly: Beethoven’s too loud, Mozart’s overrated, Chopin’s all filigree, Wagner never gets to the point, and with Schönberg you might as well have a ruler instead of a piano. Meanwhile, people dismiss Yiruma as “wishy-washy”, anime soundtracks as “for kids”, and Einaudi or Tiersen as “lift music”. But that’s just wrong, because:

• Every composer has something to say – and we often have dedicated researchers to thank for rediscovering gems lost to history.
• Misunderstandings are often down to us, because we don’t know the cultural or historical context, and go in unprepared.
• Just as you shouldn’t judge a musician on one performance, you shouldn’t dismiss pieces or composers without giving them a second chance.
• Diversity and openness are essential in art. Of course, you can have favourites – but just as you wouldn’t want to eat the same meal every day, you shouldn’t play the same music over and over.

It’s often the “showpiece” works by composers we dislike that they themselves weren’t all that fond of. Sometimes it’s just that some pieces have been played to death. But that’s no reason to close yourself off to whole worlds of sound. In Sergei Rachmaninoff’s words: “Music is enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime is not enough for music.”

10. Unhealthy competitiveness

This is a tricky subject – and the debate is unlikely to end any time soon. One thing’s certain: people love to measure and compare everything. In many sports, where things can be measured in metres or points, that makes sense. But can you really measure music – let alone the interpretation of a piece? Especially at the level most competitors play at nowadays?

Personally, I think not. In my view, competitions of any sort undermine the real purpose of making and composing music: to get closer to your own intuition, to find your personal connection with your instrument, and to spend time with art. At the beginning especially, direct contact with the instrument matters more than sticking to exercises and routines. You should be allowed to discover your instrument for yourself, because nothing sticks in the memory more than what you’ve learned through your own experience.

At the same time, it’s true that competitions have been around for ages and are highly regarded. Much is expected of the participants, and the competition is fierce. But if you lower the bar just a little, you’ll see that some musicians end up with unhealthy attitudes to competition – even at small, local events. A healthier perspective can really help:

• Competitions should motivate you to test your own boundaries – but they should never be the main measure of your talent or success.
• The real comparison should be with your own progress, not with others.
• Competitions are only snapshots in time – losing doesn’t mean you lack talent.
• Failure shouldn’t be seen as weakness, but as experience and a step forward – just having the courage to go on stage is an achievement in itself.
• Above all, competitions should give musicians a chance to share, inspire each other, make friends, and enjoy making music together.

It’s just as important to explore other art forms alongside music: theatre, opera, painting, sculpture, poetry, literature, dance – and all the fascinating combinations that arise from them. The arts are all connected and form a rich spectrum of sound, colour and shape which is beautiful on its own, but quite overwhelming in its entirety. In the end, you should measure yourself against the music itself – not against some arbitrary, human-invented scale that, ultimately, means nothing for your own artistic journey.