Four Performance Diplomas, Four Instruments

A Reflection on Musical Learning and Its Limits

Between 2012 and 2022, I completed four performance diplomas across four very different instruments: the LTCL in Drum Kit (Trinity College London), the DipABRSM in Piano (Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music), the DipRSL in Electric Bass (Rockschool/RSL Awards), and the CIPP in Classical Chinese Percussion, awarded by The TENG Company in partnership with the Confucius Institute, Nanyang Technological University (CI-NTU). Pursued over a decade, these qualifications reflect an ongoing effort to formalise and deepen my engagement with diverse instrumental practices, traditions, and performance contexts.

Each diploma was undertaken with a specific purpose. The LTCL consolidated years of professional experience on the drum kit into a formal recognition of technical and stylistic competence, and for a time, was the achievement I held dearest. I took the DipABRSM to prove that I could play classical piano despite being discouraged from taking A Level Music in JC by a teacher who perhaps wasn’t entirely wrong since I didn’t do particularly well, though I passed. It was also a way of closing the loop my parents had started when they enrolled me in Yamaha’s JAC at age four. The DipRSL was driven by curiosity. I had only played electric bass for two years when I sat for it, and I wanted to understand it more deeply. The CIPP, which focused on classical Chinese percussion, reflected a conscious engagement with traditional repertoire and served as a nod to my beginnings in RIMB, where I often found myself thrown into the percussion section simply because there was no piano part in specific arrangements.

These diplomas provided structure, direction, and a sense of measurable progress at various stages of my development. They also offered insight into how music is codified, assessed, and legitimised across educational systems, genres, and levels. Preparing for these exams pushed me into a repertoire I might never have chosen. It made me more fluent in the language and expectations of institutional music education, particularly within Southeast Asia, where such certifications still hold significant professional and social capital. Quantifiably, I learned how to read, interpret, practise, and prepare efficiently, all undeniably practical skills for the working performer.

However, these experiences also highlighted the limitations of performance diplomas. They didn’t teach me how to improvise, lead a rehearsal, or function musically in an ensemble. They didn’t teach groove, nuance, or taste, which came from living a certain musical life over time. On the teaching front, they offered no training to adapt to learners with diverse needs. And in terms of critical cultural engagement, they did little to interrogate the assumptions embedded in the music or the methods being examined.

This is not to dismiss their value. These diplomas gave me a technical, psychological, and professional foundation that shaped my work’s later stages. But over time, I’ve recognised how the things we assess in formal music education and the realities of actual music-making often diverge. I see it daily in the deeply skilled and influential musicians I collaborate with, many of whom hold no formal qualifications.

Today, I teach across multiple institutions, deliver postgraduate modules, and continue to develop curriculum and workshop content. I hold a doctorate in music education, several fellowships, and a professional identity no longer tied to any instrument or credential. Still, these diplomas remain a meaningful part of the scaffolding. They were necessary at the time, formative in hindsight, and still worth pursuing for many. If you’re on that path, I applaud and support you wholeheartedly.

They don’t define me. But they shaped me. And in many ways, they still do.