Yesterday, Jeff and I met another time to talk about my upcoming lecture recital. It was a good discussion, as usual, and led me to realize that I have a lot to practice before the big day on May 5th. I played Dave Holland’s “Spheres” for him, and we talk about notation and the challenges of transcribing a piece without a set metrical scheme. He also brought my attention to Jacob Druckman’s “Valentine.” Cool piece.
Later I met with one of my other advisors, Carlos Sanchez-Gutierrez, and we discussed similar themes. He also mentioned I should exam Lachenmann and Ferneyhough in order to check out how they mediated non-standard notation. Great discussions all around.
After these meetings, I drove back to Michigan to rehearse with the Warren Symphony Orchestra. This Sunday, we’ll be playing the “Russian Masterworks” concert featuring Tchaikovsky 5, Pulcinella, and Ruslan and Ludmila. Really fun music! Seemed like even though it was a rehearsal, it was important for me to perform well, reaffirming the maxim that practice makes permanent. Every time I have the bass in my hands, I feel like I need to make the best sounds I can within my abilities. Otherwise, what’s the point?
Since I’m still a DMA student at Eastman, I’ve had to return to Rochester, NY to meet with advisors and forge ahead with my degree. No one wants to be finished with it more than I do, and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Being an alumni of the undergrad program, as well as a current student, I’ve had plenty of time to forge memories and contemplate how the school has helped me over the years. Considering that I’ve been back and forth to the school for 15 years, the institution has had a formidable influence on my musical outlook.
As an undergrad, I studied music education, jazz, and classical music, all pretty intensely. I never really set out on a specific path to be a “well-rounded” musician (this in itself seems a bit contradictory), but I found that my musical interests drew me in several different directions, often times in one day’s schedule. Plainly put, I wanted to be involved with everything I could get my hands on. Of course, being involved in everything means that you run the risk of mastering nothing, and no doubt, I often feel this way. However, when someone asks what I do as a musician, my first response has always been to identify as a “jazz” musician. I feel fortunate, though, that Eastman allowed me to participate in the jazz program, the orchestras, the new music ensembles, and anything else I chose to explore. Thanks, George.
Jeff Campbell, my main teacher for nearly 15 years, also wears many musical hats. Despite our decade-and-a-half collaboration, I leave every lesson with Jeff with a new perspective on music. I think this is because Jeff is a life-long student too. A great teacher should have a thirst for a subject that always draws them in new directions and new modes of thinking. Like Jeff, the teachers that are the most versatile have shown me new and interesting ways to present music to my students, and hopefully this same philosophy will filter into their teaching, and so on and on. It has always boggled my mind to hear someone say that they’re bored with music. How can that be when there are so many nuances to be explored? I always think of another teacher of mine from Eastman, Ralph Alessi, who said one day that he doesn’t care what tune he plays. A great improvisor like Ralph can find novelty in the most mundane tune.
Day 6’s performance is brought to you by the letter Z, for Chris Ziemba. Today I definitely learned some new things playing with Chris, one of my favorite pianists. Part of the year’s performance objective is to learn a little from everyone I play with. What can I learn from you?
I hate recording. The tape doesn’t lie. Yesterday, I tried to record myself playing “Yesterdays” and it took me forever to get something I was even mildly interested in sharing. As long as I’ve been recording, it’s been the one aspect of music that has always plagued me. Why? Probably because I’m hyper-critical of my playing, as are the majority of musicians. How can you not be? When most recordings are patched together to easily in post-production, doing anything right the first time is nearly impossible, at least for me.
This reminds me of a session I saw at Eastman a few years ago when Snooky Young came to visit. He and the faculty jazz group played a tune, don’t remember which one right now, but it was standard-ish. When it was Snooky’s time to solo, he stood up, with his 90 years of experience on this Earth informing his performance, and played what was, to my ears, a perfectly constructed solo. It swung, his sound was good, and he had attitude. Nevermind that he can barely hear; he knew what to play, and played it. Bam. It was a throwback to a time (or so the History of jazz informs me) when you got one shot to make it (yes, Eminem, that theme has been around WAY longer than you have). If not, it was your derriere that ruined the take. That recording stuff was not cheap.
This, I’ve decided, is an important aspect of the 365 Days of Performance. Primarily because these performances are on record and will never go away. Whether it’s with Alarm Will Sound (Derek Bermel recording out this year I hope), a jazz group, or in my “studio,” I promise to get better at recording. Here’s an improvisation on “Unison” by Bjork.
Miles Brown 