tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56085837076082238902024-03-17T20:02:24.036-07:00Sam Newsome's Blogsite: Soprano Sax TalkThis site was created as a platform to share
my thoughts on music, creativity, and life; and to connect with fellow sax players committed to sharing ideas about the soprano saxophone.My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.comBlogger381125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-74132554129124951572023-11-10T06:03:00.001-08:002023-11-10T06:03:15.297-08:00Blank Page Syndrome<p><br /></p><p><span style="background-color: #f7f7f8; color: #374151; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; orphans: 2; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEja7o2tVG_Aw1-TuIXsvRSjDBafpMBXliMLwYBiWn4nClcMd8YKxlYOKM3O44Oq3wP7EaitoOWCAPD6gpAUZpxfAfY3OwuPWI8Ou4TJP_8qh0Dex7RB2tw04ACCmrI0YiUVgMaHbe7BPb3SMoGtBjzI-mIcaeM8lT4Q3ODgOESaOC3XBuICzfgLjRSxwow" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEja7o2tVG_Aw1-TuIXsvRSjDBafpMBXliMLwYBiWn4nClcMd8YKxlYOKM3O44Oq3wP7EaitoOWCAPD6gpAUZpxfAfY3OwuPWI8Ou4TJP_8qh0Dex7RB2tw04ACCmrI0YiUVgMaHbe7BPb3SMoGtBjzI-mIcaeM8lT4Q3ODgOESaOC3XBuICzfgLjRSxwow" width="266" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sydney Sheldon's poignant quote, "A blank piece of paper is God's way of showing you how hard it is to be God," deeply resonates with me as a writer and an improvisor. Allow me to elaborate on the meaning this quote holds for me. As I see it, a blank page serves as a metaphor for writer's block—a creative artist's ultimate nemesis. While the process of refinement can transform subpar writing or composing into something worthwhile, a blank page offers no such potential. Its emptiness stands as a daunting challenge. Or as I think of it: creative ground zero.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let's delve into the reasons behind the existence of these barren sheets, devoid of the illuminating words and vibrant tones we aspire to imbue them with. A prominent contributor to writer's block is the entrapment of a rigid, agenda. When one becomes fixated on executing what the mind (or ego) dictates, the natural, instinctive flow of creativity is stifled. This is where the notion of "God" enters the discourse.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, let's decipher this metaphorical language further. In this context, "God" symbolizes the enigmatic currents of creativity, possessing an autonomous momentum. In other words, it has a life of its own. As a writer, composer or improviser, embracing the role of a vessel and/or conduit for these creative forces, rather than assuming the position of a creator, becomes paramount. Failure to do so inevitably results in the dreaded blank page and sometimes a blank creative spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Should you aspire to assume the role of a "creator" akin to a deity, by all means, take the audacious leap. Nevertheless, the multitude of blank pages scattered across the creative landscape serves as a testament to the futility of this pursuit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In essence, Sheldon's words encapsulate a powerful lesson—that we should humble ourselves to creativity's mysterious power. It urges us to yield to the creative forces at play and recognize our role as mere facilitators. By doing so, we shatter the shackles of the blank page syndrome and allow the symphony of words and tones to flow through us, unimpeded.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How? How do we do this? I wish that I could offer a full proof strategy. But I will say this. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Humble yourself to the process. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Look for cues, not definitive answers.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Follow a compass, not a map. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Recognize that not all creative work follows a linear path, sometimes it follows its own unique path.</span></li></ul><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Give it a try. Actually, don't try. Just let it be what it is!</span></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-86111679616725433232023-08-31T06:14:00.002-07:002023-08-31T06:14:34.517-07:00 Embracing Authentic Confidence, Beyond the Illusion of Perfection<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgloZQhxGp1adm_ybJYUefhGeNSOArrUx5s9M65PuCc_JSPUAedPIimHVqH-DpbMkHT8IduuDVJQDqOaCGpnleIU_2H37MRUa2IOon0FMUEq2ZH1A82GKeYtnczZihyauhh7xOhuTqARWLPNeDHwINQrlAi8tH59bR-B_hKvIBPw1T6tCiRePak5b5gVqk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1440" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgloZQhxGp1adm_ybJYUefhGeNSOArrUx5s9M65PuCc_JSPUAedPIimHVqH-DpbMkHT8IduuDVJQDqOaCGpnleIU_2H37MRUa2IOon0FMUEq2ZH1A82GKeYtnczZihyauhh7xOhuTqARWLPNeDHwINQrlAi8tH59bR-B_hKvIBPw1T6tCiRePak5b5gVqk=w391-h295" width="391" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />My struggles with confidence has been a constant companion throughout my life's journey, with and without my horn. I certainly have my good days and bad days, as we all do. Interestingly, my feelings towards those who effortlessly radiate interpersonal confidence have been a mix of admiration and annoyance. Though I admire their unbridled swagger, I’m more annoyed that I don’t always have that within me. But delving into the intricacies of my off-the-bandstand insecurities isn't the focus here; rather, I aim to delve into the realm of music, although the two often intertwine, which is a blog post to itself.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We often seek to attain musical confidence through the pursuit of musical perfection, or at least something close to it. Achieving rhythmic precision, mastering harmonic fluency, and wielding instrumental prowess can create an illusion of confidence without question. Yet, these attributes often seem to merely scratch the surface.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In my own musical experience, this approach has proven ineffective. Trust me, when I say that I've burned enough midnight oil to light up a small town. Anyone who has ever toured with me during my youth, or had the misfortune of being my roommate, can certainly attest to this. But contrary to what you think would have been the end result, instead of making a genuine connection with the audience, my playing would come across as rigid and lacking in emotional communication when fixated on these technical benchmarks. After the gig, I'd often be told that I needed to loosen up a bit—an image that's now hard to envision. <i>Just check out the </i></span><i>picture </i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>above.</i> Today, people probably wish that I’d reign it in a bit, even though I </span>imagine<span style="font-family: inherit;"> they secretly like being taken into unfamiliar sonic areas. It’s human nature. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As a player, I’m flawed with the best of them. But unlike the twenty-something version of myself, I know longer lose sleep over my musical hurdles. I’ve learned that trying to develop the power and agility to jump over them is not my only option. I can either walk around them, or as I prefer, create a new path. The irony of walking your own path, is that </span>putting<span style="font-family: inherit;"> one foot in </span>front<span style="font-family: inherit;"> of the other is the easy part. Giving yourself permission to do so, is when we find ourselves bound and shackled. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;">But g<span style="font-family: inherit;">enuine confidence as I see it, emanates from authenticity, not just proficiency. I've found solace in embracing my true self, or at least the creative version of it. Let me just add that </span>authenticity is not just who you say you are, but who you always are. <span style="font-family: inherit;">This mode of expression speaks volumes louder than conforming to a rigid template of excellence often endorsed in jazz studies programs. I am unapologetically inclined towards atypical approaches, a fact that defines my artistic persona—definitely in the last ten years or so. This path is replete with both advantages and obstacles, yet ultimately, it's uniquely mine. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I embarked on my journey with the soprano, I was frequently likened to Steve Lacy and Wayne Shorter. It’s rare that a CD reviewer or audience member even mentions them even in passing. Thanks God, those two never hung out at Home Depot. Or else, I'd just be another clone. Today, I proudly claim my own space, for better or </span>worse<span style="font-family: inherit;">, laden with both praise and jest. It's evident that not everyone is going to enthusiastically pack their bags and join you on all of your creative explorations--especially when you stray from the pack. And even if they all wanted to come along, there’s probably not enough room.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Wrapping up, I just want to reiterate that confidence is most eloquently displayed through the unwavering embrace of one's true self. Confidence is not simply about projecting an inflated chest, but baring one's heart.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;">Interested in reading more of my thoughts on music, click below.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Life-Lessons-Horn-Originality-Musician/dp/1682220923/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3RPFJPM06FGU3&keywords=Sam+Newsome%2C+books&qid=1692012390&sprefix=sam+newsome%2C+books%2Caps%2C154&sr=8-1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Life-Lessons-Horn-Originality-Musician/dp/1682220923/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3RPFJPM06FGU3&keywords=Sam+Newsome%2C+books&qid=1692012390&sprefix=sam+newsome%2C+books%2Caps%2C154&sr=8-1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="218" data-original-width="141" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlap_HN2ElHIurmMezFe_AU62c7KCsu-ip7tPiJILQ64vu1_zsKB1XM_7hTaJVZFKbMdnMsTFlW-_Gl4mTB5Nj_Uyk0Swhv2ZbSVOVxv_VCoZaZkfms0QtZqwpXUHA5SS094U30XEJzCcXBBOdnWwkItMcuahthSpgd-0xff4tNeRgox1T5DySmxJmUhE" width="155" /></a><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Be-Inspired-Stay-Focused-Creativity/dp/1098352319/ref=sr_1_2?crid=2QIIJG4EDYRV5&keywords=Sam+Newsome%2C+books&qid=1692012627&sprefix=sam+newsome%2C+books%2Caps%2C261&sr=8-2" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="218" data-original-width="145" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAFODP42nHXbGuJRy4AmdpEcBN-S8ugH3HX5AoCoZMUlNVt6QFQK02x9z62CDYr1yabxQatRTISIGYdAHwHgh7OYpfsq3oulnCkmmsf_rAhhQb_LALubf930-xlBeBXZrsJczy4Xrd2ENZf7onkKit2Q6mNl3bFQRuVOSDXFO7yV9RsM6fpdtpLMMzrU4" width="160" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><u><br /></u></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><u><br /></u></span></span></div><br /><br /><p></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-57688506205943477832023-08-22T19:37:00.000-07:002023-08-22T19:37:27.676-07:00Forgiveness: A Path to Liberation<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhk85dzX0uVEW131vBc1SvROL-Q239sHKnuEnhk888QejmC0Z26JkYWHnxt9mP4usoQXGGE2Vzpe3fWnh5EZqGqXUGvBOoEMSDgvhDnSASie6eOkg7c70MRXTC0NuWthObvhj0E72o_EytJXU_qVtyqVuUi6XGhgIahjEV-jnl3WmPQvDpdVv0jZf_ImTo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="169" data-original-width="298" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhk85dzX0uVEW131vBc1SvROL-Q239sHKnuEnhk888QejmC0Z26JkYWHnxt9mP4usoQXGGE2Vzpe3fWnh5EZqGqXUGvBOoEMSDgvhDnSASie6eOkg7c70MRXTC0NuWthObvhj0E72o_EytJXU_qVtyqVuUi6XGhgIahjEV-jnl3WmPQvDpdVv0jZf_ImTo" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />In more recent days, I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness, a word that holds within it the power to transform our lives and reshape our perspectives. Often seen as a mere act of letting go, forgiveness possesses the power not only to release others' transgressions but also to serve as a powerful vessel toward self-empowerment.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Many of our internal struggles stem from our perceptions of wrongdoings committed by others. We often find ourselves entrapped in a web of resentment, anger, and hurt as a result of these perceived transgressions. However, forgiveness offers a unique key to unlocking this cage of inner turmoil. If we can teach ourselves to choose forgiveness as a default response, we can control our emotions and reactions. This conscious decision to pardon can liberate us beyond the pain and find solace in the present moment.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As a musician, this idea of forgiveness as a tool of empowerment can guide us towards artistic freedom. When playing jazz, forgiveness comes with the territory. In the throes of the improvisatory moments of a jazz performance, you never really play what you intended to play. And even if you did, it might not be the most heartfelt music. Being deliberate and delivering are not always on the same page. A lot of what gives jazz its vibrancy is the urgency of the moment, or as what MLK referred to as "the fierce urgency of now."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I’ve become more experienced as a musician and improviser, I’ve come to the realization that it’s not always what I play that creates a path towards a satisfying performance. But my response to what was played earlier. And this is where forgiveness becomes paramount. In order to play from this enlightened state, checking your ego at the door is a must. The ego is what instigates all of these feelings of angst. But if we can forgive ourselves for not being perfect, for not playing exactly what we wanted to play at that moment, the artistic possibilities become immeasurable.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I first embarked on my current musical path as an experimentalist </span>and<span style="font-family: inherit;"> improviser, I felt overwhelmed by the sea of possibility. Almost feeling afraid to even wade my feet in the musical waters. But in order for me to feel more comfortable in this area, I had to embrace forgiveness and acceptability. Which are often interchangeable. Forgiving oneself for playing the unintended. Accepting it as what fate has determined. Again, this is easier said than done. I wouldn't say that I've mastered this state of being, but I am much more comfortable in 'just being" than I was a little over a decade ago.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This idea can extend even beyond performing. I find it </span>useful even when dealing with the frustrations of the music business. Sometimes when magazines print unflattering things about our music, we must forgive. If critics perpetually ignore us in the coveted polls, we must forgive. If festivals refuse to book us, we must forgive. If certain musicians refuse to hire us, or respect us, we must forgive. It is the only way.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'll be the first to admit that this path of forgiveness is not without its challenges. It demands us to confront our deepest vulnerabilities and face the pain we seek to release. However, this very process is a testament to our strength and determination. As we learn to let go of the heavy burdens of resentment and self-criticism,, we become the architects of our own empowerment. </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;">Interested in reading more of my thoughts on music, click below.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Life-Lessons-Horn-Originality-Musician/dp/1682220923/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3RPFJPM06FGU3&keywords=Sam+Newsome%2C+books&qid=1692012390&sprefix=sam+newsome%2C+books%2Caps%2C154&sr=8-1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Life-Lessons-Horn-Originality-Musician/dp/1682220923/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3RPFJPM06FGU3&keywords=Sam+Newsome%2C+books&qid=1692012390&sprefix=sam+newsome%2C+books%2Caps%2C154&sr=8-1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="218" data-original-width="141" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlap_HN2ElHIurmMezFe_AU62c7KCsu-ip7tPiJILQ64vu1_zsKB1XM_7hTaJVZFKbMdnMsTFlW-_Gl4mTB5Nj_Uyk0Swhv2ZbSVOVxv_VCoZaZkfms0QtZqwpXUHA5SS094U30XEJzCcXBBOdnWwkItMcuahthSpgd-0xff4tNeRgox1T5DySmxJmUhE" width="155" /></a><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Be-Inspired-Stay-Focused-Creativity/dp/1098352319/ref=sr_1_2?crid=2QIIJG4EDYRV5&keywords=Sam+Newsome%2C+books&qid=1692012627&sprefix=sam+newsome%2C+books%2Caps%2C261&sr=8-2" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="218" data-original-width="145" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAFODP42nHXbGuJRy4AmdpEcBN-S8ugH3HX5AoCoZMUlNVt6QFQK02x9z62CDYr1yabxQatRTISIGYdAHwHgh7OYpfsq3oulnCkmmsf_rAhhQb_LALubf930-xlBeBXZrsJczy4Xrd2ENZf7onkKit2Q6mNl3bFQRuVOSDXFO7yV9RsM6fpdtpLMMzrU4" width="160" /></a></div><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span><u><br /></u></span></span></div>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-24143456827743840192023-08-14T17:58:00.003-07:002023-08-15T09:44:16.962-07:00Embracing the Second Life: A Musical Journey of Transformation<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4XSldYYcX5yKfpcRHy8MP89BGqaaR348dL09W3oPyuGC9t-xXBCCZ6KWbxZm6P_3OWHv5sybMmPEniPF-dwVkmjKsegqbajOczQL48amg6lRxi3onppxum-qYotu7H2DSb_vcTlaS4M46XK5vQwa-i6qR1tXYQYi2AQqXSJj50UBlTBR7OZHCdH2jHQQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4XSldYYcX5yKfpcRHy8MP89BGqaaR348dL09W3oPyuGC9t-xXBCCZ6KWbxZm6P_3OWHv5sybMmPEniPF-dwVkmjKsegqbajOczQL48amg6lRxi3onppxum-qYotu7H2DSb_vcTlaS4M46XK5vQwa-i6qR1tXYQYi2AQqXSJj50UBlTBR7OZHCdH2jHQQ=w466-h310" width="466" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> "We have two lives. The second starts when you realize you only have one." This timeless saying by Confucius has been the backdrop to the most transformative journey of my life, a journey that began with a seemingly simple, yet very difficult decision—to give up the tenor sax and embrace the soprano saxophone as my new musical voice.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Before my rebirth musically, if you will, I was a tenor saxophonist cruising along a path that, though had its share of frustration, felt familiar. My career was steady, my skills were honed, and yet, there was a lingering sense of unexplored territory. It was as if I was navigating a comfortable musical stream, but beyond the horizon, an ocean of undiscovered music and creativity beckoned me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And then, it happened—I had music epiphany that sent ripples through my artistic soul. I decided to pick up the soprano sax, a decision that marked the beginning of my second life—a life where I would approach music with fresh eyes and an open heart.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Transitioning to the soprano sax was not just a change of instrument; it was a plunge into uncharted waters. And I'll be the first to admit that at times, I felt as though I was going to drown. The soprano saxophone's voice was higher, its nuances demanded a new understanding, and its tonal palette expanded my sonic vocabulary. As I navigated this new terrain, I discovered new types of music and improvisation that were previously beyond my understanding and general interests. I discovered different kinds of melodies, new tonal systems and a way of improvising that was less centered around theory and standard jazz vocabulary, and more about human emotion.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The journey of my second life led me to cross paths with a diverse group of artists and musicians. Collaborations that would have remained elusive if I hadn't embraced this new path. I found myself collaborating with individuals from non-jazz genres, each bringing a unique perspective that enriched my musicality. Through our collaborations, I was able to tap into unexplored facets of my own artistry, a testament to the profound wisdom encapsulated in Confucius' saying. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Looking back at my journey, I am reminded that we have the power to shape our lives, to birth a second life that is driven by our passions and guided by the wisdom that time is restless and waits for no one. Embracing the soprano sax was merely the catalyst for an new world that touched every facet of my existence, from becoming a family person, having a full-time teaching position, writing books, becoming a home owner, and just enjoying life in general. It was the embodiment of Confucius' saying—a reminder that the second life starts when we grasp the fleeting nature of existence and dive headfirst into the vast ocean of possibility.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When things are not going well, we often feel that the answer lies in tying to perfect our birth life. Maybe what we need is to be reborn.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><br /></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-2400741440605875262023-07-21T06:52:00.000-07:002023-07-21T06:52:08.152-07:00Sam Newsome/Dave Liebman Duo<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The following performance is from the 2023 WOW Summer Music Festival, presented at IBeam in Brooklyn. You might say it's our delayed record release, celebrating the launch of <a href="https://samnewsome2.bandcamp.com/album/soprano-logues">Soprano-Logues</a>, our duo recording on Bandcamp, June 1, 2023.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">As you can imagine, the entire fifty-plus minute performance was all improvised. Which is not necessarily equated with being hard to follow, or lacking a linear structure. It's anything but. That's one of the things I love about playing duo with Dave--musicality is always front and center. Even when I attempt to venture off into that non-musical grey area, Dave always seem to bring me home. Like a Zen-master keeping his pupil centered and focused.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">But I won't say to much more about it. Other than check it out and let me know what you think. There are a lot of great moments. I develop a new appreciation for it, every time I hear it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">That's it for now!</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="353" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jxw2MWWLu_c" width="424" youtube-src-id="jxw2MWWLu_c"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-130372935859232812023-06-02T07:45:00.005-07:002023-06-02T07:59:49.619-07:00Why Tim "Bone" Williams Mattered<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnYxERzcPDF6CXrBWkuTAtwnl8nv6aqxcutBRLx1r9ocUyX03GtQQaYHuAJ3WZgrYeOCnN-DQZI1smasJh6_kjKSNxLhTJmNztN8hRqLDi5-cYyAv7YuUWhMAsICB7sFUe9LJoaDg3ZKPs0f1f7G8ephJFCwenP7KwvDwzvhl3L_vdAiVrZh0vKStH" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="812" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnYxERzcPDF6CXrBWkuTAtwnl8nv6aqxcutBRLx1r9ocUyX03GtQQaYHuAJ3WZgrYeOCnN-DQZI1smasJh6_kjKSNxLhTJmNztN8hRqLDi5-cYyAv7YuUWhMAsICB7sFUe9LJoaDg3ZKPs0f1f7G8ephJFCwenP7KwvDwzvhl3L_vdAiVrZh0vKStH=w310-h365" width="310" /></a></div></div><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><br />The jazz world recently lost one of its most influential and ardent students of the music. Which is ironic because many have never heard of him. Unless, of course, you had the good fortune of crossing his path.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Tim Williams, affectionately known by his peers as “Bone,” was a St. Louis, Missouri, trombonist. Williams was a part of that wave of Berklee students who moved to New York in the 1980s and rattled the cage of the status quo. Dwayne "Cook" Broadnax, Greg Osby, Donald Harrison, Marvin “Smitty” Smith, Bruce “Bud” Revels, Terri Lynn Carrington, Jeff “Tain” Watts, and the person from whom I discovered Williams, Branford Marsalis.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">In one of the many interviews Marsalis gave during the late eighties, he talked about his days at Berklee and how undisciplined he was when it came to practicing. Unlike Williams, a man who was no stranger to burning the midnight oil, Marsalis seemed to need occasional coaxing. Marsalis also talked about how Williams would knock on his door and insist that he follow him to the practice rooms down the hall. Branford obliged, of course. After all, Williams was a big guy with a low resonant voice and a gold cap on his front tooth that commanded much attention. He was like a teddy bear you knew would maul you if provoked.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">This is who Tim Williams was. A person whose love for learning had no boundaries. The shed was his temple. His sanctuary. Music to him wasn’t just a vocation, a way to make money, an excellent way to get the girls. Music was the reason he woke up every morning. It was his spiritual lifeline. "Shedding" to him was the solution for many of life's problems.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I first met him during the early nineties when I was a member of Terence Blanchard’s quintet. Like many musicians during that time, Williams would come out regularly to hear us play. Remember, this was before social media. So, if you wanted to connect, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram were not options; you had to physically leave your apartment and go to where the people were. For us, jazz clubs were our social platforms. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">When I first met Williams, he wasn’t playing very much. In fact, I don’t think he had done anything newsworthy since his short stint with Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers in 1985. Until he lost the trombone chair to Delfeayo Marsalis, Wynton and Branford’s younger brother. An incident that really brought to focus the harsh realities of music and politics. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Williams was going through an embouchure change and was working a day job to make ends meet--something that plagued him for the remainder of his life. I believe this was one of the reasons he and Blanchard bonded; he had also undergone a recent embouchure change. Blanchard, however, had the good fortune of being able to supplement his income by scoring Spike Lee movies. What impressed me most about Williams was his support and generosity towards fellow musicians, young and old. I’m sure watching many of his college buddies embarking on great careers while he seemed stuck at ground zero could not have been easy. No one would blame him for becoming bitter. But this could not have been further from the truth. He was proud of who his colleagues had become or were on the verge of becoming. Mainly because he knew he played a minor, if not significant, role in their development--either through the numerous jam sessions he led around the Berklee campus, physically dragging them to the practice rooms or just his presence. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">I lost track of Williams for many years, as I have with many. In this business we’re in, one day, you’re on top of each other, and before you know it, you’re living on opposite sides of the globe. But like most who knew Williams, he was always with me. His warm spirit and kind words made me smile many days. I knew where ever he was, he was either practicing, being generous with his knowledge with aspiring upstarts, or dreaming of the day he could get back to the reservoir of music that once flowed effortlessly from the bell of his horn.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Tim “Bone” Williams proved you don’t have to be a jazz star to be impactful. Unfortunately, life circumstances did not enable him to appear on numerous recordings or make much money playing music. But indeed, his love for life, learning, and his fellow brothers and sisters enabled him to make a difference. I’ll take the latter any day.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">R.I.P. Bone. You will be missed.<o:p></o:p></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-1270946284423354522023-03-02T19:32:00.001-08:002023-03-02T23:32:30.745-08:00Why Wayne Shorter Mattered<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZ4wvyStU1eMc-9HWkZxaVgd6UKMknNhApvTPpsHSfkJup1kb1mkuSPXqf4XZWPTcy7pXutEIKWPFL0rQ7oESOP-Bm2maIWP5fpbc6xhJGP_pzZXx0rvotWb6neW4lO0rQiIlXoZ7zDsfwsV1DlBPp1UiI5O4LSkTD5VKy1ZkqEXNhUu_r4d7a1KbO" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="654" data-original-width="980" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZ4wvyStU1eMc-9HWkZxaVgd6UKMknNhApvTPpsHSfkJup1kb1mkuSPXqf4XZWPTcy7pXutEIKWPFL0rQ7oESOP-Bm2maIWP5fpbc6xhJGP_pzZXx0rvotWb6neW4lO0rQiIlXoZ7zDsfwsV1DlBPp1UiI5O4LSkTD5VKy1ZkqEXNhUu_r4d7a1KbO=w419-h280" width="419" /></a></div><br />It goes without saying that an institution of musical thought and creative generosity has left the planet. But, on a positive note, also left behind is a body of work that will serve as a source of musical study, musical inspiration and enjoyment. Maybe until the end of mankind.<p></p><p>Before Wayne came along, a lot of jazz evolved around musical callisthenics. Virtuosity at the highest level, peppered with interludes of heartfelt blues and infectious swing—particularly amongst saxophonists. Not to misconstrue what I'm saying in terms of virtuosity. <i>Wayne had plenty in the bank. </i></p><p>Here's how Wayne differed. His virtuosity surfaced as a byproduct of making a solid musical statement. It wasn't about running the horn, or making the changes. Even though those two performance practices were on heavy display. Instead, it was about making music inspired by the moment, never to be reproduced again.</p><p>When we're taught to improvise in the early stages of our development, we're taught that jazz improvisation is a spontaneous creation of a melody. That's the rhetoric, anyway. However, that intention quickly becomes a lifelong devotion to arpeggiated lines that outline the chords, with a side order of chromaticism that alludes them. Not in Wayne's case. His music was the embodiment of this definition of jazz improvisation. This is heard from the early days with Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers, through Weather Report, to his last working quartet. No matter what group Wayne played with, he was always the voice of musical reason. Whenever he started to play, there was always this feeling like, "OK, things are going to be ok now."</p><p>When I was a young Berklee student, Wayne was my go-to guy for when I needed a musical pick me up. When you're at institutions like Berklee, surrounded by many high-performing students, it can play mind games on you. One begins to think that if you can't play fast or "Cherokee" through the keys, maybe a music career is not for you. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, many of those high performers did not become the jazz stars that their peers anticipated. My theory: Flash and virtuosity can't sustain a career, only great music. Listeners get bored of being wowed. Eventually, they want to be moved. And this is why Wayne Shorter mattered. He taught us that improvisation has to be nuanced with emotion and vulnerbility, subtlety and fire, whispers and roars, and most of all, patience. It's not about showing your musicianship but your humanity. Only a small number of us were born with the ability to be virtuosic, being able to regurgitate musical information in an encyclopedic fashion. But everyone has humanity. A lesson taught by Wayne Shorter every time he graced the stage. Playing his memorable solos that were often simple, in terms of notes, but deeply profound in terms of meaning and emotional impact.</p><p>Wayne will be missed. His sound, melodic compositions, harmonic sophistication, cryptic way of speaking, and of course, his warmth and unwavering generosity.</p><p> R.I.P. and thank you!</p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-24470708687904062382022-05-02T19:29:00.000-07:002022-05-02T19:29:18.546-07:00My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-25530025652712017862022-03-09T17:27:00.001-08:002022-03-09T17:32:16.480-08:00Remembering Ron Miles: A Gentle Man and Gentle Spirit<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhSjKfz8oA7fRCK45CGJhaYCwTG24tA_Vyk-RwE1_qJ56HRP0EU6sganL8WLdKNoEo7kMWd29IacDLcZooQOI-8ojyh-PsRF8nmVgtl1zrWP6d3wz3B7QWKEQZaScp9jfbz89N93HETQ1KHZRu3pKS-qT9bAXmJvWfQcpWoVkl9lHpCahu3iexJGRqn" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="275" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhSjKfz8oA7fRCK45CGJhaYCwTG24tA_Vyk-RwE1_qJ56HRP0EU6sganL8WLdKNoEo7kMWd29IacDLcZooQOI-8ojyh-PsRF8nmVgtl1zrWP6d3wz3B7QWKEQZaScp9jfbz89N93HETQ1KHZRu3pKS-qT9bAXmJvWfQcpWoVkl9lHpCahu3iexJGRqn=w449-h300" width="449" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The jazz world has lost not only a really great musician but a really nice one. I met Ron Miles in October of 2014 at Duke University as part of the Bad Plus <i>Science Fiction</i> project, along with Tim Berne on alto saxophone. The group performed as a part the University's <i>Duke Performances</i> series, which commissions musicians to present eclectic music.</p><p>I remember running into him in the hotel's lobby, right before our first rehearsal and soundcheck. We connected immediately. I imagined he did this with most people. Ron was an interesting mix of lucid humility, restrained confidence, and exorbitant kindness. For some reason, I was a little nervous meeting him, but that all went away within seconds of shaking his frail hand. He immediately told me that he was a fan. I was delightfully surprised that he was very familiar with my solo work and was a frequent reader of my blog. I remember thinking that if Ron Miles is reading my shit, I must be doing something right.</p><p>During the two years that the group was together, I was always impressed with how Ron approached each performance with a Zen-like patience. As a result, every solo was melodic, heartfelt, and memorable. He never forced the music. It always surfaced organically, like a spring flower.</p><p>At one point during our European tour, in the spring of 2015, I was having difficulty interpreting the Bad Plus's itinerary. It was packed with a lot of info, and I often had trouble deciphering what I needed to know. While in Germany, we were supposed to catch an 11:00 am train. And I thought it was an 11:00 am lobby call. Needless to say, I missed its departure. I did catch a later train and made the gig, thank goodness. </p><p>At one point, one of the Bad Plus members was showing great impatience, and Ron sensed it, and for the remainder of the tour, always reached out to me to make sure I understood the travel plans. He was never condescending, which I appreciated. He sincerely just wanted to help. The challenge about the tour was that there was no tour manager, so we were basically on our own. As I've stated, I struggled with this.</p><p>The last time I saw Ron was on September 4, 2016, at the Chicago Jazz Festival. We played right before Anat Cohen's quartet on the beautiful Millennial Stage. We had a lot of downtime before the concert and had the best time talking about music, being college professors, and the new O.J. Simpson mini series, <i>The People v. OJ Simpson: American Crime Story.</i> We both thought it was brilliant. He even told me he was close to being ordained as a priest. I just remember thinking, "How much more virtuous does this guy want to be?"</p><p>R.I.P. You will be missed by everyone who had the good fortune of crossing your path, with and without your horn.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p>Please enjoy what I believe is the only documentation of the <i>Science Fiction </i>project. This was filmed and recorded on September 12, 2015, at Jazz à la Villette, in Paris, France.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="350" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SnFwAHGq5bo" width="421" youtube-src-id="SnFwAHGq5bo"></iframe></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">* Ron died on Tuesday at his home in Denver due to complications from Polycythemia vera, a rare blood disorder. He was 58 years old. <o:p></o:p></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-14489545936386247462022-01-26T17:20:00.001-08:002022-06-05T06:16:28.866-07:00How to Start of Movement<p><span style="font-family: inherit;">The TED Talk by Derek Sivers "How to Start a Movement" </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">may be only three minutes in </span>length,<span style="font-family: inherit;"> but it has given me years of inspiration and courage. It has played a significant role in how I manage my career and how I interact with others.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">The talk is centered around a video of a young kid at the beach who demonstrates the courage to make a fool of himself. And as Sivers points out, this what it takes to start a movement. </span></p><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Key points from his talk:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><ol><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">A leader needs the guts to stand out and be ridiculed. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">The leader must embrace his or her FIRST follower as an EQUAL and not a follower. This way it’s about the movement, not the leader.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">As Sivers points out, "The first follower transforms the lone nut into a leader."</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">The first follower, as Siver's </span>also<span style="font-family: inherit;"> points out, is an "underestimated form of leadership." He or she demonstrates just as much courage as the leader. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">New followers, </span>ultimately<span style="font-family: inherit;"> emulate the first follower, not the leader. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">As more people join in, following the "lone nut" becomes less risky. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Overtime it become more risky not to follow the leader and the crowd of others </span>following<span style="font-family: inherit;"> the leader.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">And before you know it, a new movement is born. </span></li></ol><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="345" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gxFt1BZiMTw" width="415" youtube-src-id="gxFt1BZiMTw"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">This video is short and simple, but so profound. As I see it, it's bigger message is about being </span>selfish<span style="font-family: inherit;"> enough to pursue that which makes you happy. And self-less enough to allow others to take ownership of the fruits of your courage. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thanks for your time!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Please check out my new book: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Be-Inspired-Stay-Focused-Creativity/dp/1098352319/?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_w=SxhLu&pf_rd_p=29505bbf-38bd-47ef-8224-a5dd0cda2bae&pf_rd_r=ZZFPFNY8XS6ZB89W556F&pd_rd_r=434e3479-be44-4051-a262-e9a2da6c2ade&pd_rd_wg=TDp2P&ref_=pd_gw_ci_mcx_mr_hp_atf_m">Be Inspired, Stay Focused: Creativity, Learning, and the Business of Music.</a></div><div><br /></div>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-51080461488931832952022-01-11T16:20:00.001-08:002022-01-11T16:20:21.242-08:00Book review: Be Inspired, Stay Focused<p>Check out this wonderful book review by Donna Schwartz. Please check out Donna's amazing podcast <a href="https://saxophonepodcast.com">Everything Saxophone.</a></p><p> <iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="478" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ftXrvqa2fzA" width="575" youtube-src-id="ftXrvqa2fzA"></iframe></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-49719415243463486522022-01-09T08:23:00.002-08:002022-05-18T02:46:25.867-07:00Relying Too Much on Talent May be Your Problem.<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFhwYKIQ5Rgvukx4HC6i-0Y38pgGqsnDtxLIenTLfSspWyiHtGnNj2er1k4AFbvdhjzTJWDF4efSvQ1nkKDT2-UmPp46MxzJECwviPDjsC9Bto2RbcA9qimJMiQ3LhR9a27tS2jag_iQHVkeL9in3NMHfcj0vkJKkNwtXV7GZhzVswpyx-lwnb7IIQ=s1200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="818" data-original-width="1200" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFhwYKIQ5Rgvukx4HC6i-0Y38pgGqsnDtxLIenTLfSspWyiHtGnNj2er1k4AFbvdhjzTJWDF4efSvQ1nkKDT2-UmPp46MxzJECwviPDjsC9Bto2RbcA9qimJMiQ3LhR9a27tS2jag_iQHVkeL9in3NMHfcj0vkJKkNwtXV7GZhzVswpyx-lwnb7IIQ=w424-h289" width="424" /></a></div><br /></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>Talent versus genius has been a topic I’ve been fascinated with for many years now. Something that doesn’t get talked about often enough.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><p></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Rather than boring you with a long drawn out prologue, I’ll just get right into it.</span></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b></b></span></p><blockquote><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"Talent enables you to play great. Genius enables you to arrive at greatness."</b></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"></p></blockquote><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s get into it!</span></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Talent is what we’re taught to nurture from the first time we touch our instrument. Talent enables you to play your instrument well. It enables you to sight-read music perfectly. It enables you to flawlessly navigate your way through a challenging set of chord changes.</span></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As creative artists we have a partnership with talent. (Here, I'm paraphrasing writer Jack Grapes.) We say to talent, make me sound good and I’ll always make you number one. And talent says to the creative artist, make me number one and I’ll always make you sound good. And the two of you move through your musical life joined at the hip. </span></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genius works differently. </i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>You can’t have a partnership with genius. Whereas talent does what it can. Genius does what it must (to paraphrase Edward George Bulwer-Lytton.)</span></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(77, 81, 86); color: #4d5156; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here’s how I see genius. Genius is like a superhero that jumps in and saves you when you fall off a building. Or right before you get run over by a moving train. That’s how genius works. </span></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At this point we all understand how to access our talent: practice, practice, and more practice. Talent is very linear. Genius is like a bad boy figure: illusive and unpredictable.</span></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If this is the case, how do we access genius? Unfortunately, you can’t control genius, you can only set the stage for it. Since genius does what it must, then we must create an environment that allows genius to come to our rescue.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinUeu-s4UuKO0-rC1WgwGIrC1NOJ1MJUD8En1Lqeb7bJ2vzchvk-BfoLzA6tNd0df-uu5Xt2EDdf6rV2fSwvRmXIlMkKJeNO1n-m2v_PbIBrgMMM1VrjUPChI4MqnDhLuZTe4MwJl3YRs4mCUImMmQ6Iii5UEhlxfngIK1uHPNcUT6v0vSVz0iwxbS=s612" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="612" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinUeu-s4UuKO0-rC1WgwGIrC1NOJ1MJUD8En1Lqeb7bJ2vzchvk-BfoLzA6tNd0df-uu5Xt2EDdf6rV2fSwvRmXIlMkKJeNO1n-m2v_PbIBrgMMM1VrjUPChI4MqnDhLuZTe4MwJl3YRs4mCUImMmQ6Iii5UEhlxfngIK1uHPNcUT6v0vSVz0iwxbS=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><p></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I see it, we need three things to allow our genius to surface.</span></p>
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<ol>
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Stillness</span></li>
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hyperawareness</span></li>
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Danger</span></li>
</ol>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s unpack this, shall well.</span></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>1. Stillness</b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhs9JAc2ymJd7pzrD80vwnwcMXwt3eK7_XbQ8Eu2srZO_9AjvIzv6c9OirmgsxFa-NS3nZZ5tN5ATS1MgGcbro7A6W4SxAlYlhK91qIzEukKtx3akq8DksEz7ov4_Bcab-KvCvrOvveXr6B4IVrFnQoIRqp3rPThK3dHpVboDlHDU9ZT1sYbw5eiWHx=s740" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="740" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhs9JAc2ymJd7pzrD80vwnwcMXwt3eK7_XbQ8Eu2srZO_9AjvIzv6c9OirmgsxFa-NS3nZZ5tN5ATS1MgGcbro7A6W4SxAlYlhK91qIzEukKtx3akq8DksEz7ov4_Bcab-KvCvrOvveXr6B4IVrFnQoIRqp3rPThK3dHpVboDlHDU9ZT1sYbw5eiWHx=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What is stillness? Simply put, stillness in the quieting of the mind. All thoughts compromise the creative process. The good and the bad. Thoughts are like a hard protective layer that prevents things from seeping through. Whereas stillness provides a much more porous surface between your creative process and genius. In other words, if genius does decided to drop by, then you need to create a way for it to get in.</span></span><p></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>2. Hyper-awareness</b>. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8hnHgdQeLy3lYAE525efIYtus-9mqe8UKsDPNDm8BREXc6hiSlbAciJVpKguNuL5jNfZo_bXNVy1QKcc7tTcIw7v-dw76pkYuLrW5rWY3CcTXGTkprHI0vatHiucQ8t0x0moK5K8n-BMXft44VLv-iKbDw9N958oAP7lL6Dy3tuLy_9ayEkMG-XCV=s580" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="580" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8hnHgdQeLy3lYAE525efIYtus-9mqe8UKsDPNDm8BREXc6hiSlbAciJVpKguNuL5jNfZo_bXNVy1QKcc7tTcIw7v-dw76pkYuLrW5rWY3CcTXGTkprHI0vatHiucQ8t0x0moK5K8n-BMXft44VLv-iKbDw9N958oAP7lL6Dy3tuLy_9ayEkMG-XCV=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Once the mind is quiet, then you need to beware of the thoughts, ideas, and inspirations that surface. Otherwise, you’ve created a way for genius to get through, but your mind is too focused on other things and can't recognize the great things that are happening, or have the potential to happen. </span><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I look at it this way. </span><p></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Imagine you’re walking to the train station. During the first scenario, you’re talking on your cellphone, arguing with your partner. If anything beautiful is along the way, you’re not going to have any idea. You’re too wrapped up in something else. Now, scenario two. You’re walking to the subway, now your cellphone is your pocket. You’re looking up at the clouds, you’re observing the songs being sung by the birds. You notice the cool rhythms the cars make as they cross bumps in the road. You take in the different aromas from the different trees, bushes and flowers that you pass. Now, instead of you simply going from point A to point B. It has become a journey filled with sensory illumination. This is the type of awareness you need to recognize genius.</span></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>3. Danger</b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0TEXxODVI_eDa8KOAiGjTuHelUsshv4snDZtn60NfieMqiPfpZD-4BYmidwiRnpgcFxGWn9wayH1n-yIM6yahuPjmOlrPGthk40GCX0LZEcDEGH7aHP6pOJN-AMeY1myn2wmdOKajuby5jT069bH7JEVJMOrPfSLUPfVMxex4vnesmtSCQVnvr9vV=s259" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0TEXxODVI_eDa8KOAiGjTuHelUsshv4snDZtn60NfieMqiPfpZD-4BYmidwiRnpgcFxGWn9wayH1n-yIM6yahuPjmOlrPGthk40GCX0LZEcDEGH7aHP6pOJN-AMeY1myn2wmdOKajuby5jT069bH7JEVJMOrPfSLUPfVMxex4vnesmtSCQVnvr9vV" width="259" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let talk about the most radical one, danger. This is what most try to avoid, however, it’s the most essential to us experiencing genius. When we put ourselves in creative danger, we create a situation where genius does what it must. Go back to our superhero analogy. When does Superman appear? When you’re driving and the bridge collapses as you’re crossing it. When does Spiderman appear? When you’ve fallen out of the 12-story window and are about to crash onto the sidewalk. Without eminent danger, they would rarely show up. Well, genius works similarly.</span></span><p></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let's look at danger in the creative realm: </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>What is it and how do you access it? </i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We often feel like we’re in danger when we feel that our existence is threatened. Or when we’ve lost control for something we value. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Simply put. Danger is that which scares us. Next question: How do we leave ourselves frightened? By moving outside of our comfort zone. Nothing scares us more than the unknown. Not knowing. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What does this have to do with genius? When you’re in danger, you become more vulnerable. When you become more vulnerable, you create an environment where genius can do what it needs to—which is to save you and take you to new heights. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Some examples on how to put yourself in danger.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<ol>
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Do something you’re not good at.</span></li>
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hang out with people who think differently than you. </span></li>
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Wing it sometimes.</span></li>
<li style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fail on purpose.</span></li>
</ol>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What do all of the suggestions have in common? They all scare us. And we have no idea what the outcome will be. And this is the magic of danger. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">We’re no longer in the driver's seat but have become an observant passenger. It’s like that saying: “A blank page is God’s way of showing us how hard it is to be God.”</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When you learn to dance with fear, magic happens.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, here is where is gets tricky. Unlike super heroes, genius does not always save you. It might let you fail a few times before swooping down and carrying you into safety. You may seriously begin to question your actions, and certainly the whole idea of genius. This is where being <i>still</i> becomes crucial. It allows you to shut off your brain when it goes into doubt-mode. But when genius does kick in, everything you went through up until then would have been worth it. Regarding doubt-mode. Remember that ALL thoughts are lies. The good and the bad. It's just as harmful to be full of yourself then it is to be full of doubt.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I know this is a lot to take in. And I won’t attempt to recap what I just said. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But just remember this: Relying on your talent may take you from point A to point B, but it won't enable you to experience greatness. Relying on your talent is safe way to move through your musical life. Taping into your genius will be life changing.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Please check out my new book: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Be-Inspired-Stay-Focused-Creativity/dp/1098352319/?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_w=APbst&pf_rd_p=29505bbf-38bd-47ef-8224-a5dd0cda2bae&pf_rd_r=RJ3DFPPEDNPA59A914VA&pd_rd_r=2e01499f-43a5-4ad5-b798-c8c3a9f51849&pd_rd_wg=I8gMf&ref_=pd_gw_ci_mcx_mr_hp_atf_m">Be Inspired, Stay Focused: Creativity, Learning and the Business of Music</a></p></div>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-54606038733075001782022-01-05T13:45:00.001-08:002022-01-05T13:49:23.127-08:00Are You Trying to be Human or Perfect?<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-GF2ETual2-bn2TzZQWqgdMlJ8qozdph0hoxf-Ql1V-vr9wE4i-NxlXQYbSAyIL9O1XAMyPsTbFbZP15cg6QjcbwmAKSrpIFNiTZWQlBpdDM2qCcWNR5Vlgt1wtNqdgciga7hOXinkM//" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="259" data-original-width="535" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-GF2ETual2-bn2TzZQWqgdMlJ8qozdph0hoxf-Ql1V-vr9wE4i-NxlXQYbSAyIL9O1XAMyPsTbFbZP15cg6QjcbwmAKSrpIFNiTZWQlBpdDM2qCcWNR5Vlgt1wtNqdgciga7hOXinkM/w524-h254/perfect-score-panel-3-businessman-260nw-89244967.jpg+copy.jpg" width="524" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve often written about why some players inspire us and others leave us shaking in our improvisatory boots. Or worse, leave us harboring feelings of resentment towards their musical existence.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Rather than rehash previous thoughts from earlier posts, I’ll just delve into new revelations.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><blockquote><b>“Intimidating players demonstrate what it’s like to be perfect. Inspiring players reveal to us what it’s like to be human.”</b></blockquote></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s unpack this.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">We’ve all heard that player with unlimited technical skills, the ability to play in any key, in any time signature, at any tempo. They are seemingly the perfect player. They never have bad nights, only great nights. On occasion, even better nights. Perfect! So much so, that young players from universities around the globe, follow this path because it’s the surest way to peer acceptance, and the surest way to get employment. I get it.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here’s the problem.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">With so many players aiming for machine-like perfection, the music starts to sound like an aesthetic race to the bottom. I’ve always felt that musicians should strive to play in a fashion that would be impossible to recreate via a machine. You can transcribe a solo by any number of revered players today, type those notes in Finale, press PLAY, and hear a very close replica. Try doing that with Ornettre Coleman or Albert Ayker. It would be nearly impossible. This is how it should be be.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why have we ended up in this place? Easy. We’re only exploring perfect outcomes, and are failing to address human ones.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s take this out of the musical realm for one moment. In fiction writing, budding authors are instructed to never write characters that are perfect. For a few reasons:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">They are one-dimensional. Or flat. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">They are uninteresting.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">And the reader can’t relate to them.</span></li></ol></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Again, why?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Because human beings are flawed. It’s what makes us human. It’s what makes each and every one of us unique and interesting. It makes us likable. This is why politicians have such a difficult time. They have to pretend to be perfect and usually end up failing in a big way.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">So why do imperfect people appeal to us? <i>Look at any reality show. Basketball Wives, The Housewives of Atlanta, Hanging with the Kardashians</i>. It’s because we, too, are imperfect. We find comfort in knowing that others are like us, even those who seemingly have everything. We feel less lonely. Our quirks in the realm of humanness are not abnormalities, but things which make us as we were meant to be. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Quick story: Years ago, I used to live in this huge house in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn. Many musicians resided there over the years. Whenever I invited friends over, I was known for always making them wait in the living room, the common area, while I went up stairs and made sure my room was tidied up perfectly and was suited entertaining. One day, following my usual modus operandi, one of friends stop me before I headed up the stairs to do my usual pre-entertaining clean up. They said I didn't have to clean up. for them. That it was OK for me to show them my mess. They said it made me <i>seem more human</i>. This really resonated with me and certainly had some influence on this piece.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s go back to music. The imperfections we’re taught to correct, can give our playing character. There are a lot of alto players who had better intonation than Jackie McClean, but they’re much less interesting. There were plenty of trumpet players who could play faster, louder, and higher than Don Cherry. But many of them were no where near as charismatic nor with the ability to move all of those within ear reach. Thank goodness they never settled for perfection. At least machine-like perfection.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">There are numerous examples like this. Even looking at my own playing. I am so flawed. Sometimes I’m amazed that I have any career at all. By then again, I’m proof that it’s not about checking all of the boxes. Sometimes it’s about thinking outside of the box. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">The reality is this. All that we so desperately try to sweep under the rug, sometimes needs to be put on a silver platter and set at the center of our musical table. The world needs that which makes you imperfect. The world needs what which makes you human.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">My tweet from a few years ago sums this up perfectly.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtst8dI3WN7keeTcDqsuVemFnX_aCATYhlKHDqgIdYt126nFBMzbmkNSlZ3Wb_KACl3MY7Mwa79oAcNf357mf2HZy3ijt6Y4k7Odfdk9IOcS1vf4_FrPam6rhJVUDK3CVpDMp8cwAgBRlU6hToJ0sSl_LXmmDqNGmLL-LzC41FCIxsU7Gwl2EGIoCK=s1790" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1790" data-original-width="1080" height="598" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtst8dI3WN7keeTcDqsuVemFnX_aCATYhlKHDqgIdYt126nFBMzbmkNSlZ3Wb_KACl3MY7Mwa79oAcNf357mf2HZy3ijt6Y4k7Odfdk9IOcS1vf4_FrPam6rhJVUDK3CVpDMp8cwAgBRlU6hToJ0sSl_LXmmDqNGmLL-LzC41FCIxsU7Gwl2EGIoCK=w360-h598" width="360" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>Please check out my new book: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Be-Inspired-Stay-Focused-Creativity/dp/1098352319/?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_w=KKtKY&pf_rd_p=29505bbf-38bd-47ef-8224-a5dd0cda2bae&pf_rd_r=6FNGM394Y3ESHWFG0RPE&pd_rd_r=b1ec4d75-1338-4cf7-bbec-a59c945e23ef&pd_rd_wg=2ZbIP&ref_=pd_gw_ci_mcx_mr_hp_atf_m">Be Inspired, Stay Focused: Creativity, Learning, and the Business of Music</a>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-31667171836280204792021-10-11T17:39:00.002-07:002021-10-11T17:39:35.730-07:00Two Straight Horns of Plenty: Sam Newsome/Dave Liebman Duo<p>Always a pleasure to share the musical airwaves with Mr. Dave Liebman. It's a little weird playing with someone when you just want to stop playing, listen and enjoy. But it was wonderful hearing Dave respond to some of my preparations. I didn't give him any idea of what I was going to do just to see how he'd react. And, of course, all of his musical responses were perfect. There's even a second set of this that may be even better. Not sure when I'll release it, but I'm sure it will be sometime soon.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/w6Vraxq69Wo" width="320" youtube-src-id="w6Vraxq69Wo"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-49310728932539966072021-09-25T18:58:00.008-07:002021-10-02T18:05:23.956-07:00Bringing Musical Life to the Dead<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGbA4GpZzyLD8LODJHdcIipwMaelW5yT-0FekOY9QM6_rehjN4aDgHwT_2elqPuVgI-Vjp8Trjr4lGD5m6YoV6jQIKzCL7gloZYre4fF41F3xXFyNp64ghFFzegjmEAuPsszg4SBKqaH0//" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><img alt="" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="594" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGbA4GpZzyLD8LODJHdcIipwMaelW5yT-0FekOY9QM6_rehjN4aDgHwT_2elqPuVgI-Vjp8Trjr4lGD5m6YoV6jQIKzCL7gloZYre4fF41F3xXFyNp64ghFFzegjmEAuPsszg4SBKqaH0/w494-h307/Screen+Shot+2021-09-25+at+9.12.30+PM.png" width="494" /></a>ll</div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I received an email from vocalist Gelsey Bell asking me if I was available to play as gig at a cemetery, I wasn't sure what to expect. But after doing some research, I found it wasn't just any cemetery but the Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, NY, the eternal residence to such luminaries at Jean-Michel Basquiat and Leonard Bernstein. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">The evening featured a wonderful cast of improvisers in solo, duo, and trio settings for 15-minute increments at a time. </span></p><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jen Baker, trombone<br clear="none" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Gelsey Bell, voice</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">gamin, percussion</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Joy Guidry, bassoon </span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Amirtha Kidambi, voice</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sam Newsome, sax<br clear="none" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cleek Schrey, fiddle</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lester St. Louis, cello</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fay Victor, voice</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Gelsey Bell, voice</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;">The photo features me with Jen Baker and Amirtha Kidambi.</div><div style="background-color: white;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There were two primary spaces: </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">the Catacombs and the Whitney Mausoleum. We played from 7:00 PM - 10:00 PM continuously for three hours with occasion breaks. I've done a lot of gigs, but I can say with certainty that this is the first time I've improvised for three hours. It was quite an experience. Needless to say, I was quite exhausted afterward. But energized in a surreal kind of way </span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm not sure if I'll be invited to do something like this again, but I hope everyone gets a chance to experience some like this at least once. Hats off to Gelsey Bell for having the vision to put this together.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Please check the New York Times article below.</span></p></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial; font-size: 13.3333px;"><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial; font-size: 13.3333px;"><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/23/nyregion/green-wood-cemetery-covid-deaths.html?auth=login-facebook&fbclid=IwAR0yFN7z6oF1dmjrkj7NWhEAl0EoN5SAlbu2EMHO6HDw1mlbngLCMX3IQ7g" style="background-color: transparent;">https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/23/nyregion/green-wood-cemetery-covid-deaths.html?auth=login-facebook&fbclid=IwAR0yFN7z6oF1dmjrkj7NWhEAl0EoN5SAlbu2EMHO6HDw1mlbngLCMX3IQ7g</a></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial; font-size: 13.3333px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial; font-size: 13.3333px;">And here's a short snippet demonstrating the sonic beauty of the space. I wish it was longer.</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial; font-size: 13.3333px;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyC6WGKKfHk9oqi1B--Cerm4ZPXCSNH5HSQhoxKgQ3PyQjFhSAOc16d38F5CqC6ODochz4yIhTzrXu8vLEd2g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial; font-size: 13.3333px;"><br /></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-32934824606760637512021-09-01T17:40:00.003-07:002021-09-01T17:40:36.316-07:0020TH ANNIVERSARY VIDEO PREMIERES EPISODE 10 - CARMINA ESCOBAR & SAM NEWSOME/DAVE LIEBMAN DUO (LIVE)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ok7CXhUhIvQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="ok7CXhUhIvQ"></iframe></div><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><span><!--more--></span><p></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-51786612321053129802021-08-06T18:52:00.000-07:002021-08-06T18:52:29.646-07:00Just Play and Play Some More<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHM_F4azdeUeosdapV5FHB5zRCaHQ22ZgxXWxvObsUDXtByITgwf5L_7dBjyQ2ujQlwuIXAeZ0KpB0Iz3WiAeS-YxSNqN_xnIOIMGyn0z5uWJ-zrIMVb-Gb0anb962ZS9jMO15vLrRI6I//" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1106" data-original-width="1080" height="437" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHM_F4azdeUeosdapV5FHB5zRCaHQ22ZgxXWxvObsUDXtByITgwf5L_7dBjyQ2ujQlwuIXAeZ0KpB0Iz3WiAeS-YxSNqN_xnIOIMGyn0z5uWJ-zrIMVb-Gb0anb962ZS9jMO15vLrRI6I/w426-h437/thumbnail.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">This particular exchange from one of my Twitter posts resonates with me because as someone who spends a great deal of time in the classroom, I’m often inundated with questions from students wanting know "when" and "how." As teachers and mentors we want to be able to bring a magic formula with your pedagogical offerings. But the reality is that no advice offered would be a </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">dealbreaker.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I started thinking about this during the COViD lockdowns, during which I developed a fascinating with fiction writing. (Yes, the book of short stories about jazz is in the works. More about that later.) As you can imagine the first thing I did was try to take lessons</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">. Quickly realizing my fiction writing skills were hardly worthy of a teacher. I did seek help, though. I watched a ton of videos and read numerous articles. What they all taught me was that I just needed to write. One video suggested writing one short story a day for a month: short, long, good and bad. Just write. They guaranteed at the end of this creative immersion I'd come away totally transformed with a new relationship to writing short stories. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was reminded of Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000 hours article. However, this exercise wasn't about putting in the hours, but learning what one knows and doesn't know, and how to get to the essence of one's craft.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Just as a writer must put pen to paper, musicians put mouth to horn, fingers to keyboard, and sticks to toms. More specifically, one must play, observe, and revise. There’s no substitute. In order to learn and progress, students and </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">players at all levels need to be their own teachers. Your chosen musical consultant should act more as a compass than a map. They should steer you to where you’re headed, not strap you into the car and drive you there.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">There are a lot of things that happen on a micro level when we play that’s difficult to articulate. Micro-actions happen that you may not even notice. And you know what? This is OK. When we walk, it would be a waste of our observation skills to notice every micro-movement of our muscles and bones. Bottom line: just get to where you’re going. Sometimes this is all you need be concerned with.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">One problem with our sophisticated music education system is that we’ve grown accustomed to over-explaining things. It’s the gig. I get it! But the problem is that we’ve created a culture of aspiring musicians and artists that need to “know, NOW.” It’s great for enticing students to come to weekly lessons or pay a heathy tuition bill, but damage is done when we no longer have patience for the process. We don't want to walk our </span>journey. <span style="font-family: inherit;">We want to Uber it. This is the real tragedy of music education—especially jazz education. The classical world works differently. Students develop mostly through developing musical calisthenics, learning </span>repertoire,<span style="font-family: inherit;"> and receiving coaching. These practices are essential in jazz as well. However, the true essence of jazz learning is discovery. Discovery is not something that should over-intellectualize. Which is what PhD earners paid a lot of money to learn how to do. So, of course they’re going to seize every moment.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes, you just need to play and discover things </span>organically,<span style="font-family: inherit;"> and not simply listen to someone pull you along, convincing you to follow their absolute truth. The answers you seek don’t always come when you ask, but when you’re ready for them. </span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the meantime..JUST PLAY!</span></div>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-6145770227105008892021-07-27T15:50:00.001-07:002021-07-27T15:50:27.838-07:00 Are Your Musical Standards Too High? <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4zB94L0Bmo3yKjecG3P4bgbFm7lQy23-L7j2zeCPDGXUY5OWYoanpp1HVt9QsrKuRaZafrv0CkjlWdRHspYzSgwMeZaV2__vtARDHwt8Ori_U4YGP1zh8CH2boH4RUJwEgIpE8O5LCTQ//" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="350" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4zB94L0Bmo3yKjecG3P4bgbFm7lQy23-L7j2zeCPDGXUY5OWYoanpp1HVt9QsrKuRaZafrv0CkjlWdRHspYzSgwMeZaV2__vtARDHwt8Ori_U4YGP1zh8CH2boH4RUJwEgIpE8O5LCTQ/w390-h223/low-barr.jpg" width="390" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span>Lowering the bar is the antithesis of what we’re taught. Go
for the gusto. Be number one. Never accept anything less than the best. We’re
told never to settle. I used to believe the same thing, until I discovered that
so-called settling brought me much more than I imagined.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span>
</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">A little anecdotal knowledge here: The times I played the
worst was when I really wanted to play well. Right before a performance, I’d be
running scales and patterns seconds before I hit bandstand. Mind you, sometimes
this can be a good thing, especially if you’re not warmed up or if there are
few musical passages that you’re still not solid on. My situation was
different. I was plenty loosened up physically. It was my mental and spiritual states that were tight and rigid. It was difficult for my creativity to seep
through the cloud of neurosis that was defining my musical existence. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>
</span><span>
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Even career wise, the times I was doing the worst in my
career was when I I really wanted to be a jazz star. I would be on a huge stage
of a major festival playing for a few thousand people, upset about not getting
my due. Sounds insane, I know. The funny thing is that if I had put all of that
negativity aside and had just try to have fun, I would have played better and
possibly put myself in a position to receive more career success.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Today, I’m happy to say that I’m not like that nor do I want
any of that. And consequently, I continue to receive more than I ever had when
I desperately wanted it. Life is funny this way.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Several years ago, I was hanging out with a colleague. Let’s
just say he’s not lacking in the ambition department. During our conversation
he mentioned the typical things ambitious musicians discuss: festivals desired,
promoters whose rosters we want to get on, labels we want to sign us, etc. He
began noticing I had relatively little interest in these things, and he said to
me. “Man, now I see why you’re not affected by any of this stuff. You’ve
basically given up.”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span>Of course, this made me laugh. I explained that yes, I had
retired my neurotic business obsessions. I wasn’t concerned about playing at
the Village Vanguard, or getting signed to Blue Note, or topping the critics
polls. I was, however, more concerned with having health insurance, saving for
my retirement; and musically speaking, having fun with my musical experiments
and connecting with like-minded people. None of these things will get me on the
cover of DownBeat, on a major festival </span></span>or a feature in the New York Times. Why? Because this is all
very average stuff. Maybe even stuff that someone who has lowered the bar for
themselves would be concerned with.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And this is fine. My goal is to be average. Having just
enough to do what I need to do. No more, no less. Trying to be great doesn’t
work for me. This is a life lesson that has taken a few decades to learn. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Back to my career-ambitious friend, what he perceived as
settling or giving up, I saw as establishing a solid foundation for obtaining
happiness. Consequently, my goals are low but my spirits are high. Even in terms of
improvisation, I no longer practice to become great, I practice to become
solid. Cover the basics and be done with it. If most people heard me practicing,
they’d think I was an 18-year-old student attending Berklee. I practice ii-Vs
through the keys, patterns, and swinging over standards. Nothing to write home
about. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But I’ve discovered that keeping my musical ambitions within limited
parameters, lowering the bar, if you will, aiming to simply build a solid foundation,
enables me to tap into more under-explored and un-expected territories while
improvising. It's similar to the principle of opposites I often talk about. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><ul><li><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you want to play fast, practice playing slow. </span></span></li><li><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you want a big, robust sound, practice playing soft. </span></span></li><li><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you want to be become a great player achieving lots of
notoriety, strive just to be an average, solid player, known by only a few. </span></span></li></ul><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>
</span><span>
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">You’d be amazed by the results!</span></span></p><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><p><style><span style="font-family: inherit;">@font-face
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Since the COVID-19 pandemic, I think we’ve all longed to be outdoors and not be confined to the four walls of an apartment.</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Long story short, I recently inherited a very vibrant flower-garden, complete with two
kinds of hibiscus trees, and red, white and pink roses bushes. Let’s just say
that the mornings are very colorful. And I was exchanging flower pics with my good
friend Leslie, a more experienced gardener, who's been mentoring me, and she suggested that I stay on top of deadheading my flowers.
Of course, I had NO idea what this meant. In fact, until a few weeks ago, I had very little interest in flowers unless it was February 14th. <br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>So all of you who are novices like me, </span><i>deadheading</i><span> means: to
remove dead flower heads from a plant to encourage further blooming. The idea
is that energy that goes into trying to maintain the dying flower head can
actually be put towards a newer and healthier bloom. Immediately, I thought: there’s a profound life lesson to be learned here. At one time or another, we’ve all been told this
message in different ways. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span> </span></span>
</span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <i>Focus of the positive not the negative.</i></span></span></p></blockquote><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Close old doors and new doors will open.</span></i></p></blockquote><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Clear your mind so that your spirit can shine. </span></p></blockquote><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">You get the point.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I interpreted this whole deadheading thing from a philosophical perspective, I saw it as being about letting go.
Better yet:<i> letting go of the past and embracing the here and now so that you can enjoy a
bloom-.heavy future</i>. Furthermore, it’s about getting rid of that which can no
longer serve its original purpose in a positive way.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span> </span></span>
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the beginning deadheading was very difficult for me. Even
though the flowers were brown and shriveled, and obviously past their prime, I somehow felt I was destroying a
valuable part of the flower. One might call this a type of <i>botanical hoarding</i>.
We all know that this type of thinking extends far beyond the garden. We hold on to hole-ridden t-shirts, worn shoes, old magazines, you name it. Things that should have been thrown out five years earlier. Not to mention the emotional junk we carry around. That thing someone said to you ten years ago. That record date you didn't get the call. That tour that your student got picked to do over you. Again, withered leaves that should be deadheaded instead of being allowed to contaminate your daily vine.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> So here are the three life lessons from the garden I learned:</span></p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span> </span>If it’s unhealthy,
get rid of it. Save the good, not the bad. </span></span></li><li><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span> </span>It’s all about
re-directing the energy away from the unhealthy, towards the healthy bloom. </span></span></li><li><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span> </span>If you don’t get
rid of the dead flowers, they will only get in the way. </span></span></li></ol><span style="font-family: inherit;">The funny thing is that
once you get rid<span> </span><span>of them, you
immediately forget that they were ever there. Junk is funny that way.</span></span><p><style><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&amp;lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&amp;gt;
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{page:WordSection1;}&amp;lt;/span&amp;gt;&lt;/span&gt;</span></span></style></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-84245707014977105672021-07-02T19:41:00.000-07:002021-07-02T19:41:57.948-07:00Unconventional Happiness<p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVAnnh7i-1aq4cWVBNgXcYPCccT5SBE52cgfWtLB9M68ePZtE5SVVI-l_KW4nkas-P-XQ4zGAhK5thbUteyuTr68Bi9XTevMgo8-rPRzTjrf2lKmv7RRdCUbkTXy6XedmrVQXCKVv27M//" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="468" data-original-width="521" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVAnnh7i-1aq4cWVBNgXcYPCccT5SBE52cgfWtLB9M68ePZtE5SVVI-l_KW4nkas-P-XQ4zGAhK5thbUteyuTr68Bi9XTevMgo8-rPRzTjrf2lKmv7RRdCUbkTXy6XedmrVQXCKVv27M/w464-h418/Screen+Shot+2021-07-02+at+10.24.47+PM.png" width="464" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /> </span><span style="font-family: times; text-align: left;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;">This particular exchange strikes a chord with me because
I’ve always been the type of person who likes to help others. As I’m learning,
this is not always productive. On the surface lending a helping hand is a good thing to do. We all
should do it more. Where it gets tricky is when we extend our hand more than we
should. Some folks see this helping hand as some form of assistance, while
others may see it as merely something to slap away.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;">To elaborate on this further, let’s look the whole idea of
misery. It took me years to learn that being miserable and being unhappy are
not the same. For some, misery is the most comfortable and preferred state of being. It’s
a very deliberate emotional and spiritual choice that many make. One that does not necessarily make one sad.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;">One of the reasons that I’m such a glass-is-half-full
kind of guy is that I don't like being angry and filled with angst. Most of all, I
don’t like feeling like a helpless victim. It really makes me uncomfortable. So, I do everything in my power not
to stay in this negative space for very long. Consequently, if someone offers
me advice, I tend not to dismiss it. One, I'm grateful that they care enough to try and make me feel better. Secondly, I’m more likely already thinking along
those lines anyway. These word-comforters are most likely reinforcing what I’m already
thinking. </span><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;">This is very different from those who reject any positive
offerings from caring friends and family, always countering with something
negative. Those who get lured into this world of negativity can feel it’s their
fault that their friend or family member feels bad. Why? Because in their mind, they failed to offer good advice. Here's the
kicker: for some, there is no good advice. There is nothing that can be said or
done that would make them see things differently. Because this is the state
they want to be in. This is their preferred state of being.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;">A wise musician once told me that most people have the
potential to be everything that they are. I now understand it. Not everyone has
the same measurement of happiness. Some prefer having the heads hung low, some
would not settle for anything less than the sky.</span><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;">I know my assessment of how people feel and internalize
things is simplistic. However, there's no denying that it comes down to a choice. Choices we make
each and every day. And consequently, have to live with.</span><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;">So back to the above exchange between the <i>teacher</i> and the
<i>student.</i> This teacher is correct. Just because we, ourselves would feel a certain way in certain situations, it
is not the default response for all. The student was incorrect is assuming that
his friend’s constant worrying only brought him unhappiness. The reality is
this: For some, they would not have it any other way. There are those who prefer the smiles upside down. </span><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><p><style><span style="font-family: times;">@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</span></style></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-62977695475155007292021-06-26T14:33:00.005-07:002021-06-26T14:43:31.291-07:00Sam Newsome Trio + Amir Bey | AFA On_Line Salon<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvKospgEfxXtOmexDoIUsjy9we5_wDg-hJzI5WiCz8ortpm5iCFb1xuSWPIHjAkDWpFMqkrCpJWC_pb4eo8QXXOMZd7BgoO54Vor0qO28KImyyWklYEqQio-IgeNjU4_2t3TZFPAMqG4/s1438/SNTRIO.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="793" data-original-width="1438" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvKospgEfxXtOmexDoIUsjy9we5_wDg-hJzI5WiCz8ortpm5iCFb1xuSWPIHjAkDWpFMqkrCpJWC_pb4eo8QXXOMZd7BgoO54Vor0qO28KImyyWklYEqQio-IgeNjU4_2t3TZFPAMqG4/w544-h298/SNTRIO.png" width="544" /></a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">The following performance is titled Sam Newsome Trio + Amir Bey | AFA On_Line Salon. This was streamed live on Feb 18, 2021. It features an improvised musical performance by my trio with Hilliard Greene and Reggie Nicholson and some captivating visual art by Amir Bey. Arts for Art began taping the On_Line Salon
series to provide performance opportunities for our artists who lost all
in-person gigs due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Since then, they've presented over
40 performances featuring over 100 artists. Before the concert I was asked to give a brief statement about the music I'd be making. Here's what I wrote:</span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">"The visual and aural aspects of the artistic expression,
collectively serve as vestibules to the most vulnerable areas of our humanity.
They can expose the least compromised parts of our soul. My goal as a performer
has always been to speak to the eyes as well as the ears.<span> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">. </span></p></blockquote><span style="font-size: small;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">A little about my trio: <br /></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">The Sam Newsome Trio was formed in the fall of 2017 initially to perform as a part of the 2017
InGardens / Arts of Art Series. The chemistry was so
strong, that I knew this collaboration needed to be explored further. This
inspired ME to book several gigs around New York to give them a platform to
find their sound.The trio performs all improvised music, often taking visual
and sound oriented musical cues from Newsome on the soprano saxophone, dictated
from any number of his prepared and extended saxophones techniques—ranging from
hanging chimes from his horn,balloons, tube extensions,and various sound
manipulations such multi-phonics and unconventional tonguing techniques. As far
the music, Newsome says, “Our goal is to take the listener on a sonic journey.
There will pretty moments and ugly moments. But we all come out on the other
side having experienced something very magical.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">And we can't forget Amir Bey:</span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Amir Bey is a multi-discipline artist whose installations,
costumes, instruments, and performances have been used in collaborative
Happenings with varieties of musicians and visual artists in the US, Japan,
Turkey, and France in the past few years. Recently he has been painting 11 foot
scrolls in Sumi ink for themes ranging from “Lockdown,” (our current state!) to
“Horizon,” (Sky and Earth).</span></p></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">So that's my song and dance. Enjoy the performance. </span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="402" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/u1J-72YHIQQ" width="484" youtube-src-id="u1J-72YHIQQ"></iframe></div><br /> <p></p>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-62202264830088616862021-05-05T18:47:00.002-07:002021-05-07T19:28:32.045-07:00Sam Newsome & Francisco Mora Catlett: Sax & DrumsGiven the number of solo concerts I've given, surprisingly I've only done a handful for sax and drum duets. The majority have been with drummer Andrew Cyrille. I hope to get this collaboration up and running again.<div><br /></div><div>On Sunday, April 20, 2021, at the Downtown Music Gallery, I played a pleasurable duo concert with drummer Francisco Mora Catlett. Francisco and I been playing together for years as a part of his Afro Horn ensemble. But oddly enough, we've never played in a duo context.
What's most interesting about this performance is what's not being played. It's always nice when there's room allowed for space and nuance. These things seem to bring more humanity and musicality to any playing situation. And it just seems to make music more enjoyable. It's the easiest thing to do, but then it's also the most difficult. The most obvious things in life usually are. </div><div><br /></div><div>In any case, this was the first concert at the DMG since their COVID-19 shut down. I'm happy to have been able to take part in their inaugural opening. Let's hope this is the beginning of many more improvised music performances to come.</div><div><br /></div><div> Enjoy!
<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/VkdlojPZEr4" width="320" youtube-src-id="VkdlojPZEr4"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div></div>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-31616492478826358482021-04-22T17:02:00.003-07:002021-05-05T19:05:02.092-07:00Everything Saxophone Podcast w/ Donna SchwartzPlease check out my interview with saxophonist and educator Donna Schwartz. Donna resides in Los Angeles but grew up in New York. Her Everything Saxophone Podcast features a broad spectrum of illuminating interviews with fascinating saxophonists across the club. I was delighted by our lengthy chat from everything to extending techniques, to playing the soprano saxophone, and the creative process.
Please check it out. We're covering a lot of interesting ground.
<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lVurelsVV60" width="320" youtube-src-id="lVurelsVV60"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-19074227236774765162021-03-23T15:22:00.008-07:002021-03-23T17:05:04.572-07:00Wait and See: The Art of Patience<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoAReNuYKDLz8FjKqL6iLvGeYPdG7o9L1t8A3PXCFdhYldXG5U7OU-4SKrPUSR5ioK6kEx9v8Mv1okYgCuOIHV-tX31qEZEuPqNHOwt5PWAZkA7HeqrsYvamGri9ZTSBbczh09QM4Cvpw//" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="257" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoAReNuYKDLz8FjKqL6iLvGeYPdG7o9L1t8A3PXCFdhYldXG5U7OU-4SKrPUSR5ioK6kEx9v8Mv1okYgCuOIHV-tX31qEZEuPqNHOwt5PWAZkA7HeqrsYvamGri9ZTSBbczh09QM4Cvpw/w237-h276/Wait-and-See-in-Iowa1-257x300.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><p></p><p>Here's a novel thought: Sometimes the answer is that there is NO answer—at least not at that moment. Sometimes the best solution to our musical problems is to WAIT and SEE. This is my view when teaching the daunting task of improvising, and sometimes lessons about life.</p><p>One of the biggest mistakes we make trying to help a student work out some improvisational kinks is trying to solve the problem for them right at that moment. This happens frequently. I can introduce students to strategies, but ultimately, they have to solve the problem. Some get it right away. Some take a little longer. Some never get it. As a teacher, that’s their problem, not ours. In some instances, they may discover answers to issues initially not perceived. This is one of the many beauties of traveling a path of discovery. You never know what will turn up.</p><p>For those looking to test the improvisational waters, the first thing you should do is play. And after that, play some more. I'm saying this jokingly, but I do feel this is one of the most important steps to take.</p><p>Here’s one strategy: Set the alarm for five minutes, and play the first thing that comes to mind. If nothing comes to mind, silence is the best filler. Don’t judge, don’t record, trust your improvisational instincts.</p><p>I’d give this a try a few weeks or more. But do it consistently.</p><p>The next step: Record yourself. Please do not listen to it until the next day. Do this every time you practice. Again, don’t judge. Just trust your improvisational instincts. Just let it be what it is, because it’s going to change whether you want it to or not. I’d give this a try for a week or two.</p><p>Next step: Play with another person. The first two steps teaches you trust your own inner-directed instincts. This teaches you to respond to others. Playing with others is a different beast altogether, but a necessary one. No matter what kind of language you’re learning, the only way to truly master it is to learn to converse with others.</p><p>After that: Listen to recordings. Transcribe ideas. Seek advice on the kinds of strategies used by more experienced players. But by all means, keep playing. Keep improvising. These strategies are all unique in their own way, each playing an important role in helping you to master your newly acquired improvisational language.</p><p>A Jerry Seinfeld story: During one episode of his show <i>Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee</i>, Seinfeld and his guest started goofing on stand-up comedy classes.</p><p>Both felt that these kinds of classes are on the silly side.</p><p>I’m paraphrasing here, but Seinfeld said this is how comedy classes should be taught.</p><p></p><blockquote><p>“Go home and write jokes.</p><p>Try those jokes in front of an audience.</p><p>Then go home and write more jokes.</p><p>End of class!”</p><p></p></blockquote><p>He said what I’ve been saying throughout this piece: sometimes there are no immediate answers or solutions, maybe other than time and patience. </p><p>Here’s what life has taught me: The answers to your questions will come when you’re READY for them, NOT when you ASK for them.</p><div><br /></div>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608583707608223890.post-48706402342890817082021-01-11T08:50:00.002-08:002021-07-07T18:00:47.000-07:00The Reason I Like to Play Experimental Music<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5KirP9Rv7T841IeHKKciTbLbshUzriaQYgzr2pTjQxVPg4f10OYTdF9jP711h3KMmyi7AyXhQR5yBjEQ6uWgxJ0fP7_zksmhSkWwBuBRueo9pM2qajM7WJYadMenG2plTUN__O4MgYE0//" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1497" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5KirP9Rv7T841IeHKKciTbLbshUzriaQYgzr2pTjQxVPg4f10OYTdF9jP711h3KMmyi7AyXhQR5yBjEQ6uWgxJ0fP7_zksmhSkWwBuBRueo9pM2qajM7WJYadMenG2plTUN__O4MgYE0/w245-h335/roscoe_mitchell_copy.jpg" width="245" /></a></span></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve often heard musicians suggest that those who play experimental music or free jazz are either too lazy to <i>really </i>learn how to play, or they're charlatans <i>faking </i>their way through an abstract musical life. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">In this world, “being able to play” simply means being able to improvise over moderate to advanced harmonic structures in sync with a moderate to advanced rhythmic backdrop. Easier said than done, mind you. This is something I still practice.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And I’m only mentioning this to give you some context of the common narrative regarding this type of music. Now, before I explain why I disagree with the </span>above<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>assertions<span style="font-family: inherit;"> and why I focus more experimental concepts, I want to talk about the NASA imagination test. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEHmY33w-BC7zJbTdu9GUoHNDVoFllWj2s5YDnOmfOsgWyTUQE9DuhFQOQqnrLYRr8H4-6rVo4T6TRnBHTC1-ty4vZpIkUGfR-eVnGusaUn5Yekst1HjGkM_INsTeemfhHq__3cRCtto//" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="787" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEHmY33w-BC7zJbTdu9GUoHNDVoFllWj2s5YDnOmfOsgWyTUQE9DuhFQOQqnrLYRr8H4-6rVo4T6TRnBHTC1-ty4vZpIkUGfR-eVnGusaUn5Yekst1HjGkM_INsTeemfhHq__3cRCtto//" width="320" /></a></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This was a test conducted by Dr. George Land and Beth Jarman. They were hired by NASA to develop an imagination test to measure the creative potential of their rocket scientists and engineers. They wanted to see who the latent game changers were. As many anticipated, the test was very successful. However, being scientists, Land and Jarman decided measure how the test faired with children, so consequently, it was given to 1,600 children between the ages 4 and 5. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, here’s the stat that knocked everyone off their feet. Ninety eight percent of the children scored in the <i>genius</i> category of being able to come up with innovative ideas or solutions to problems. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">But it gets better.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then they decided to make it a long-term study and test the same children five years later when they are ten-years-old. Equally as surprising, now only 30 percent of the children scored in the category of genius. The number dropped 68 percent. In other words, they became 13.6 percent less creative each year.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At fifteen, the number dropped more than half to 12 percent.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here’s the number that’s more staggering than the first. Amongst adults, which is categorized as people over the age of 31, the number fell to a shocking two percent. Yes, two percent!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Some questions you might be asking yourselves.</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><i style="font-family: inherit;">Are we becoming less smart? </i><i style="font-family: inherit;"> </i></li><li><i style="font-family: inherit;">Are we digressing intellectually? </i></li></ul><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Just the opposite. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As far as conventional methods of measuring intelligence and mental capabilities, a fifteen-year-old is by far smarter than a five-year-old.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">However, while we become better at math and gain a greater command of language, we do become less imaginative, the older we become. Or as some would say, “the more educated we become.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">To give us a deeper understanding as to why it’s important to understand<i> how we learn</i> and<i> how we think.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There are two main ways we learn: <i>through divergent thinking </i>and <i>convergent thinking.<br /></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Divergent thinking uses the imagination to create new possibilities to take us down new or </span>under-explored<span style="font-family: inherit;"> avenues. Convergent thinking uses the brain to judge, critique, evaluate, and arrive at the one correct answer. All of the skill sets needed to get a<i> good</i> grade. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So back to my original statement: <i>The reason I like to play experimental music.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i> </i></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Simply put, I’m trying to tap into the imaginative genius I probably had as a five-year-old. Looking to recapture that which was <i>taught out of me</i> through an educational system that only looked for correct answers, not the creative ones. Even though I was a lot more skilled when I left Berklee, I was probably a lot more imaginative when I was in high school. This is what happens when you move through a convergent-centered educational system.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Years ago, I was touring the West Coast with drummer Leon Parker and we gave a clinic at one of the colleges on the tour. I remember that Leon was pretty unimpressed with the students who played for us. Then this 12-year-old kid got up and played. He had limited skills on the saxophone and little knowledge of theory and harmony. But Leon was very impressed that he could hear this kid's imagination. Whereas the older students we trapped inside the left sides of their brains.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This is not uncommon. Many students will graduate from college music programs less creative than when they were in </span>junior<span style="font-family: inherit;"> and high schools. Of course, they’ll be more skilled and more employable, but most will find it difficult to move out of the mode of convergent thinking. This is also one of the reasons why young jazz stars are often very linear. They were groomed in an environment where they're taught that playing it correctly is the final musical destination.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I teach music-appreciation classes and we're discussing jazz, one exercise I conduct with them to better explain how improvisation works, is that I have them collectively create a story on the spot. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And I lay out a few ground rules:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Whatever is said must be in some way connected to what was said before.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Keep statements short.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Don't overthink it!</span></li></ul><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Much to my surprise, the college students between the ages of 18 - 21, <i>really</i> struggle with this. I always get the feeling it was their first time being asked to find creative a solution rather than a correct one. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">They often say things like: </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>"I don't know what say." </li><li>"Nothing is coming to me."</li><li>"This is too hard."</li></ul><div>I've also conducted this experiment with much younger kids, and the overall experience is much different for them. </div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>They're having fun. </li><li>They say silly things. </li><li>Most importantly, they're being spontaneous. </li></ul><div>They see the big picture:<i> to use their imaginations. </i>So when I read this study by Land and Jarman, I was not at all surprised. </div></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Again, as far as my relationship with experimental music...I'm drawn to it because it lends itself to more divergent-centered thinking, and this keeps me inspired, young in mind and in spirit. I'm as equally inspired today as I was in junior high. Knock on wood! I've seen some of my peers with whom I moved to New York in the 1990s, struggling to keep music fun and exciting. It's certainly understandable. Many have been traveling the same path for over thirty years. It's difficult watching the same movie when you know how it's going to end.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After hearing someone play in a way that might be seen as jive or bullshitting, it would behoove you to consider what they might be trying to tap into and why. Sometimes unleashing this inner creative child takes precedence over swinging and playing correctly over chord changes. It’s not always about sounding beautiful in the conventional sense, but sounding free, being free. Or as I like to look at it, <i>sounding optimistic and spreading sonic hope that the possibilities are endless and boundless. </i>It’s the same feeling that I get when I look up </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">at the sky, versus looking at the ground. Very different emotions and thoughts are conjured up. I prefer the former. I also think this is one of the reason many artists' work becomes more abstract the older they get. It allows them to make more divergent-centered connections.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtM5HZ_PQaeyX0e1bvMd7mXhakGG9q7YXYQnMQk0jzUqUumRVlnf8cb9N6gGWF2usFixkEYTxUAApuSEioDSIkcDS0NsLa-_rN8F0xnH3xqs8JklgIT1GgUhWsFYXjNkR-6ufmqYBZ1ZA//" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtM5HZ_PQaeyX0e1bvMd7mXhakGG9q7YXYQnMQk0jzUqUumRVlnf8cb9N6gGWF2usFixkEYTxUAApuSEioDSIkcDS0NsLa-_rN8F0xnH3xqs8JklgIT1GgUhWsFYXjNkR-6ufmqYBZ1ZA//" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Picasso articulated it best when he said that it took him four years to learn to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child. He, too, was just trying to get back to where he started: five years old and genius level. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></p><div class="_rp_T3" style="min-width: 350px;"><div class="_rp_P3" style="min-height: 70px; min-width: 200px; overflow: hidden; width: 626.264px;"><i>* A special thanks to Monika Herzig for bring the NASA study to my attention.</i></div><div class="_rp_P3" style="min-height: 70px; min-width: 200px; overflow: hidden; width: 626.264px;">Before you go, please check out my most recent video from the Sudden Sound Series, curated by Jason Finkelman at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. My inner five-year-old is certainly coming through.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YKEMVHNkMNQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="YKEMVHNkMNQ"></iframe></div><br /><div class="_rp_P3" style="min-height: 70px; min-width: 200px; overflow: hidden; width: 626.264px;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="_rp_P3" style="min-height: 70px; min-width: 200px; overflow: hidden; width: 626.264px;"><br /></div></div>My Profilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17424153497775306382noreply@blogger.com0