my philosophy on music (or at least this small sliver of it anyway) (today, for that matter) is that all of us who are chipping away at this huge stone slab known as music are entitled to our own pace and own approach. i do it my way, and certainly appreciate it when others acknowledge my path and method and progress for what they are at face value and don't get into my business - unless i ask them to offer their two cents. and, as i preach to my kids, the sure-fire way to expect that treatment from someone is to provide it to them initially and without any expectation of reciprocation. what in the heck am i saying? i don't want somebody passing judgment on how i handle my music. i'm my own worst critic, and honestly... that's plenty.
with that being said, part of the gig in academia is telling people how to do music better. i tell students what needs fixing, what is working, and how to get their act together musically. in my freelance calendar, i occasionally pick up some adjudicating work. lots of jazz stuff (big band, combos) and some classical work. yesterday i judged the all state competition (at one of six centers), a very cutthroat and stressful process that gives the winners the highly regarded title of all state musician.
the all state audition day is pressure packed. a bunch of high school hopefuls all gather at the crack of dawn in some high school gymnasium, reeking of axe cologne and hair spray. pillows, sweatpants with words on the butt, all sorts of instrument cases, too many singers, ipods, buttoned-up directors, obnoxiously supportive parents, cell phones, sheet music, dorritos, mountain dew, and shoulder massage trains. each instrumentalist gets a five minute slot, which includes the following: three major scales, chromatic scale, fast etude, slow etude, and an excerpt of a solo. i score each of these individually in addition to assessing general things like tone quality and intonation. in the room, small talk, play the shit down, small talk, out the door. and don't even think about getting behind schedule.
as i hear these kids, most of my brain is listening critically, acting professionally, and scoring appropriately. but, a teeny tiny part of my head is making all sort of observations. do these kids know when they are playing something wrong? some keep right on playing, and i wonder if they know they have screwed up or if they think it's going great and they're knocking me off my feet. does that tenor saxophone girl know that i know she didn't play f# major and instead tried to play f major? why do some of these kids treat the chromatic scale as a traumatic experience, recklessly blasting through it with no regard for note accuracy of tone quality? how can that girl stand on those 3" pumps and play that baritone saxophone? when somebody nails these etudes, did the kids on deck hear them? does that affect their playing, or not, or were they texting their friends and miss the whole thing? does circling and marking up your music to the point where you can't even read the note names actually help? do these kids read the color coordinated highlighter markings in their etudes? do they kids take this audition because they want to win, because they want the experience, or because their director is making them do it? do these girls think that their outfits are flattering? did that kid tie his own tie? do they hope to play music later in life, in college, throughout high school, or just to pacify their parents? do these kids really think their instrument is spelled saxaphone? and seriously, does that one kid think it's spelled saxsophone?
truthfully, i head several very promising young musicians. there are always more talented kids than spots in the band that i can award. someone always plays the best they ever have, while someone else plays their worst audition ever. some kid still doesn't make the band and some kid makes it for the first time. some are freshmen, some are seniors. it's really quite a phenomenal environment that is created by all of these emotions. it's exhausting, both mentally and physically.
and i get nervous too...
my friend and musical chum greg oakes (whom you should totally check out) approached me the other day and said "hey man - are you free thursday night?" my initial reaction was "well, if i am, that means i'm parking it in front of the tv and wrapping up in a blanket, because these past couple of weeks have been busy as hell." thankfully, my real reaction was "nah man, why, what's up?" greg tells me he has an extra ticket to go see this guy David Sedaris do some kind of show over at the big venue in town and wants to know if i want to tag along. he seemed excited, so i tried to get excited with/for him, although i had no clue what he was talking about. we agreed that i would ditch the telly and instead meet him for dinner before we go see david whatever-his-last-name-is.
turns out, a bunch of people knew about this guy. the parking lot was jammed and lots of jovial folks were giggling in anticipation, toting books under their arms as they hustled to the front doors. i was figuring it out - he's a writer, he'll probably read some of his stuff, i bet it's funny, and he'll sign some books afterward. greg had good seats - 2nd row. i felt guilty sitting so close, not having any type of appreciation for the evening's promise. david sedaris came out, rather unassuming, and started reading from his latest book. the only time i had ever seen anyone do a reading was in the open mic scenes from that movie love jones (with a killer soundtrack). this was a far cry from that. he was hilarious. tactfully brash. cleverly condescending. artfully illustrative. and he dug sharing it - even in lames iowa!!!
folks were falling out all night, me included. everyone laughing at the big jokes, several of us laughing at delivery or foreshadowed humor or upon reflecting on where this was all going. i wonder - does he think he's funny? does he write to be funny or realize that he simply is. some say that i'm funny (not my wife, however) and i don't know if i am or not, but i sure do love it when people laugh at something that i say. he played a snippet of some legendary broadway lady (whom he said that, if you haven't heard of her, you're not homosexual) reading an excerpt of his writing, and tee-heed like a school girl throughout her recitation of his work.
he told jokes, which was charming, but not the complete schtick. he more or less shared stories and snapshots of his mind's incorrigible access with us. he used a pencil occasionally, making edit marks on his manuscript while reading (later confessing that they were cuts he wanted to make or words he wanted to eliminate for further readings). can musician's do this? do i play something and, midway, mark in a breath that i wish i had taken? should i be circling chord changes that i need to shed or quickly transcribe an idea i just had so i can reuse it again?
i was soaking it all in, not making an effort to pack some of it in such a way that i could regurgitate it to sonja later that evening. i'm terrible at that - can't remember jokes to save my life, don't retain song titles, and lose the chronology of events in movies. i'm always jealous of those that have that instant recall. do people do that same thing when they go hear music shows? remember turnaround licks, money chords, certain idiomatic techniques? is it more important to absorb information in a macro or micro fashion... or both?
he also chose particular material to share. something from the new book, something from an older book, an article from the new yorker, diary entries, and even snippets from another guy's book that he really dug. does this set rotate for the type of venue (large/small, midwest/coast) or is it the same lineup each time, regardless of demographic? i know it's folly for band groupies to get their hands on set lists from different shows, comparing and hypothesizing why a certain tune made it in wichita yet got bumped in austin. does this happen with writers? should i be tailoring my set lists for the audience or for myself? i don't want to get bored with what i'm playing yet fear that i may alienate a group of listeners by playing shit that i want to play and who cares if you're down with it just sit there and take it because you need to hear this it's good for you i'm blazing new paths in the music world baby and it's time for you to recognize.
artists need the audience ... and furthermore ... need the audience to need the artists
david sedaris was brilliant. i am so thankful that greg thought to ask me. and i actually remember a joke from that evening. before sharing, he told the audience that it was the best joke in the world, so i tried to momentarily silence my a.d.d. and pay attention. --what's the worst part about blowing willie nelson? --when he says "i'm not willie nelson"
