0 REFLECTIONS: THE TUX ARC

When I was in high school, wearing a tuxedo was a special occasion, which usually meant renting one for some kind of formal dance. In fact, there were some of my classmates who actually got a tux for semi-formal dances as well. For band performances, we were only required to wear a jacket and tie, but some of my friends made a point of getting a tux for big performances like the spring concert, and making it known ahead of time that they would be wearing a tux. My senior year, I happened to fit into one of my Dad’s black suits from when he was in his 20s, so Mom and Dad bought me a tux shirt, bow tie, and cummerbund, and I did my final band concert in a fake tux.

At the beginning of my freshman year in college, I joined a fraternity. Since I was also working, and knowing that I would be going to at least one formal event each year, I went out and bought my first tuxedo. At the time, I thought it was pretty cool that I owned my own tuxedo. Fortunately, I didn’t need to wear it for wind ensemble performances, so it didn’t receive all that much wear during my college years.

When I got to graduate school, it finally started paying off, as I was required to wear it for most performances (with the exception of jazz band). Pretty soon, I had to replace it. As I started working quite a bit outside of school, it didn’t last as long as my original tux, so I had to get another one before I finished graduate school. In my second year of graduate school, I started playing in Doc’s bands at Orange Coast College. I used to remember during the final rehearsal before any of his concerts, he would write on the board: “No warm up or tuning on stage. Wear a tux.”

A year after I finished graduate school, I started working for a very busy bandleader, and by busy, I mean I was doing between 300-400 gigs a year. The tuxedo became my working clothes. I bought multiple tuxedos with extra tux pants, and always kept one of them in the car. In fact, I would add a new tuxedo to the collection each year, and rotate the ones which still looked decent. As a working musician playing many high-end gigs in Los Angeles, I discovered that wearing a tux earned you plenty of poor treatment on the job. If you were wearing a tux, you were a second class citizen. People pushed you around (especially wedding coordinators). I got really sick of wearing a tux. I hated it. When I took over the jazz program at Orange Coast College from Doc once he retired, the first thing I did was to stop requiring my bands to wear a tux for concerts. From that point forward, it became my mission to get out of the tux.

When I started working for Mark Wood and the Parrot Head Band, that contributed to the declining number of tux gigs. It was so refreshing to show up to a gig wearing shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and flip flops. Once I became full time faculty at the college, I was finally in the position where I was able to pick and choose my gigs. I started saying, “No,” to weddings. And most of the time, the fanciest I had to dress for a gig was a black suit.

Still, I had a handful of tux gigs scattered throughout the year. But each year, that number went down. I actually kept track of the number of tux gigs. In fact, in 2011, I almost made it all the way through the year without having to wear a tux! But a week before the end of the year, I got a last-minute call for a New Year’s Eve gig which also happened to be a wedding. That meant that not only would I miss out on my first tux-free year, but I would also be starting off 2012 wearing a damned tuxedo. Aargh!

I finally got to the point where I have gone a number of years without ever having to put on a tuxedo for work in the music industry. I’ve been very proud of that fact. 2020 has been a challenging year for all of us, but for musicians, it has severely changed our way of life. Any gigs after mid-March were a blessing. 20 years ago after 9/11, much of the corporate gig market went away. And who knows once COVID is done, if or when live performances will ever return to their pre-COVID abundance?

All this to say that I wouldn’t mind wearing a tuxedo again in 2021 . . .

0 Endorsements and the Importance of Building Relationships

In a saxophonists’ community on Facebook, one poster asked “What’s the point [of endorsements]?” I made a point of responding as a potential teaching moment about a concept in the music business that many young musicians are neglecting in this current age of immediacy and e-commerce:

The point of endorsements is that of establishing relationships. John Donne wrote, “No man is an island.” Different types of relationships contribute to our success in life and career, or lack thereof.

Most musicians eventually realize that success in the music business relies very little on skill. The current state of popular music is certainly evidence of that. But let’s look at the word “business” for a moment:

If you had to describe the word “business” with one word, that one word would be “people.” In order to conduct business, you need other people with whom to transact. Therefore, establishing and cultivating relationships with other people is essential to success in the music business. Most musicians are notoriously bad business people. Most of us would much rather focus on our art rather than take care of business.

Have you ever stopped to notice that many band leaders tend to be the weakest musician in their own bands? Much of that has to do with the fact that they need to devote time to the business aspect of their careers. They choose to surround themselves with better musicians in order to make themselves look good.

Good communication skills are necessary in order to conduct business. We need only look at some of the negative interactions in Facebook musician groups for evidence that many musicians are severely lacking in their interpersonal skills. And therein lies a problem when they desire to establish fruitful relationships from which each party can benefit.

Consider the process of networking when trying to break into a local scene: You come across people of all walks of life when playing in a rehearsal band or sitting-in at a jam session. Certainly your skillset as a musician will contribute to the amount of musical activity that you see. But how often do you go out for a bite with your fellow musicians after a rehearsal, gig, or jam session? Do you get to know them on a personal level? Have you ever had a conversation with them when you didn’t talk about music? Have you ever sat with them for 3 hours at a sporting event? Have you ever played golf or gone bowling with them?

Think about all the discussions and gossip that occur when conferring about other musicians. Perhaps this sounds familiar to you:

“So-and-so is a monster player, but I don’t want to work with them because they are a total ass.”

Or how about:

“You should call so-and-so. They’re a solid musician and a good team player.”

On Facebook, how many times have you come across a post that asked, “Where is the cheapest place to find reeds?” or some other product? Now, don’t get me wrong, I know that we all would like to save money. But by shopping online, we lose the opportunity to establish a quality relationship with the personnel at a traditional brick-and-mortar store. When I was in graduate school, for a 3-year period, I got all of my repairs done for free. And the reason for that was simply because I shopped at that establishment on a regular basis and built a relationship with the owner.

I currently have quality relationships with two other stores. At one of them, their repair shop will take me at a moment’s notice, even if they are backed up with repair work. They’ve also given me priority on several discounts not available to the general public, or even some of their other regular professional clientele. The other store will allow me to take equipment out in the field to test without leaving a deposit or a credit card number. And if for some reason I can’t cover a large purchase in one lump sum, they will allow me to make interest-free payments.

Endorsing products is no different. You are establishing a relationship with a company in which the benefits should be mutual. The obvious advantage is that in exchange for the company getting support from a reputable artist, the artist receives product at a discount, as well as publicity from the company. You may have heard the old adage: “All publicity is good publicity, as long as they spell your name right.”

But a quality endorsement relationship will go beyond that. I currently have endorsements with multiple companies:

One of them has custom-built non-production-line horns for me to my own specifications. They have also sent me out to do clinics in support of the company. And of course, I always perform at their booth at The NAMM Show.

Another company has sought my input when beta testing new products, and they really do value my opinion. This year at NAMM, they released a new synthetic clarinet reed. One of their reps spent an entire hour and a half with me at the Show, with a reed knife, dialing-in 4 of the new reeds to my liking. And this was at a busy trade show where they didn’t need to sell me on a product.

Are endorsements of value or a total waste of time? That really depends on what you want to get out of your involvement in music. As the saying goes: “Your mileage will vary.”

But learn the value of cultivating quality relationships, both in life and in business. Some of them may even overlap. And remember, success in the music business is not determined by who you know, but rather, by who knows you.

0 YOU NEVER KNOW WHO YOU’LL MEET ON A GIG

About 20 years ago, I was really burned-out on both my theme park gig (a band in a major theme park) as well as the biz in general. One day, I got an offer to play bari on a $50 bar gig with a blues band, and something in the back of my head just told me that I should suck it up and say, “Yes,” to driving 65 miles in Friday night traffic to play a horn I that I really didn’t want to play for really bad money.

As it turns out, the other sax player on the band that night was Chris Mostert, who was Glenn Frey’s saxophonist for many years. After playing together and getting to know each other that night, he got my number. A few days later, Chris got me on a band backing a big-name singer. Within a few weeks, I was doing my first gig with true rock star treatment.

At that first gig, as we were lounging in our green room waiting to go on, Chris taught me a valuable lesson: as a server was bringing the band this large platter of jumbo scampi prawns, Chris said to the trumpet player and me, “Scott, Paul, if you guys ever get to the point that you hate your gig, just take a look around and look at the poor bastards that have to serve the food.” Chris reminded me that the ability to make a living playing music is a blessing, and that I should never forget that.

2 Getting Started with Jazz Clarinet

The following is something I wrote in a Facebook group in response to a clarinetist wanting to test the jazz waters for the first time:

Part of what will help getting started with playing jazz is gaining an understanding of the role of the clarinet in jazz, from a chronological standpoint.   In traditional jazz, the role of the clarinet was ornamental:  it outlined the harmony by arpeggiating the chords around the cornet melody, typically in the upper register.

Start with some earlier recordings of players like Johnny Dodds and Sidney Bechet.  Play along with the recordings and see if you can pick up some of their licks by ear and execute them.  Record yourself while you are doing this and listen critically to your performance. Then progress to the next generation of players like Benny Goodman, Barney Bigard, Pee Wee Russell, Artie Shaw, and Stan Hasselgard.  You will see that some of their improvisational devices are a clear evolution of the idiomatic devices of the previous generation of clarinetists.  When you have absorbed enough of their playing, you should be ready for more modern players like Buddy DeFranco, Eddie Daniels, and Ken Peplowski, and you’ll understand both what is idiomatic to the clarinet in jazz as well as how the modern vocabulary developed.

Remember, jazz is traditionally an aural art, and prior to the advent of formal jazz education, players learned by emulating their favorite musicians.  As a novice improvisor, you will learn far more at this stage of the game by playing along with recordings and analyzing what your favorite players are doing rather than using publications.  Books are valuable and have their place, but ultimately, your ear will be the best arbiter, so as a fledgling jazz musician, it is imperative that you develop that part of your arsenal before incorporating theory into the equation.

0 How Much Movement Is Too Much Movement?

In a Facebook clarinet group, one of the members posed the following question:

Can someone explain to me the tendency of many younger clarinetists to dance around so much when they play?  If you look at videos of some of the greats, Benny Goodman, Stanley Drucker, David Shifrin, Anthony McGill, they move a little bit, but for the most part they stand still and play.  Where did all this moving come from?

I come from a tradition of internalizing feel and avoiding emoting with the body, as a good deal of bodily movement is unnecessary, and some movement can even inhibit proper technique.  However, I also work in show biz.  Here is my response:

With a lot of younger, developing musicians, the tendency to emote with the body is very prevalent.  24 years ago when I was in graduate school, I was a regular offender.  Fortunately for me, I had a teacher who worked to break me of that habit.  In my situation, my elbows were the biggest culprit.  At times, it looked as if I were about to take flight. To cure myself of this affliction, I went to the extremes of strapping my elbows down with a belt whenever I practiced in order to fight the urge.  But the key part of that was having a teacher who wouldn’t let me get away with it.  I believe that part of the problem lies with teachers who let their students get away with emoting with the body rather than internalizing.

But I think a bigger part of the problem is the way the general public perceives the Arts.  I think Herb Alpert put it best when he said that when MTV came around, people started listening with their eyes.  Take for example the annual Super Bowl halftime show: Madonna, Lady Gaga, Janet Jackson, etc. all put on shows which are visually stunning, to the accolades of the masses.  But have Paul McCartney or Bruce Springsteen come up and just play music, and the public labels them as boring.

Think about how singing the Star-Spangled Banner has evolved over the past 30 years at sporting events: it is no longer about leading those in attendance in a sing-along of the US National Anthem, but rather showboating for the personal glory of the performer.

Look at the state of the film industry: how many films today are all about mind-blowing action and special effects yet are severely devoid of quality storylines?

As Arts programs have been cut at the elementary level, our youth receive less and less exposure to complex art forms.  As a result, when they reach maturity, many choose to consume forms of entertainment which simply stimulate them rather than causing them to think.

30 years ago in high school, I learned that I could get a crowd to go nuts if I danced around while playing a simple blues solo.  Sadly, the content of my solo was irrelevant; what mattered more to the audience was the visual of me gyrating my hips to the music.

The fact of the matter is that movement while playing an instrument is visually stimulating to the general public.  If an audience hasn’t learned how to listen to music, they are going to be entertained by what they see.  Personally, I would prefer to stay still and just make music, but I also know that there are times when I need to go out and work the crowd.  The masses view music not as art, but rather as entertainment. And if an artist entertains their audience, they are more likely to do repeat business.

Let’s face it: our society has unfortunately become one of immediate gratification.  The general public has a very short attention span, and if a performer is unable to stimulate an audience in under 10 seconds, a lot of that audience will choose to move on to something else that will stimulate them.  If that audience member is a millennial, they will likely pull out their phone and be stimulated by that instead.

I know that’s probably a lot more than you bargained for!  There’s a lot of pent-up frustration on my part, apparently!  My best recommendation is that if you have the opportunity to work with a younger student, encourage them to minimize their movements in the manner of the masters of days gone by.

0 When Music Won’t Soothe the Savage Breast

A former student of mine posed the following question:

When making music doesn’t even cheer you up, what do you do?

As musicians, we turn to music in difficult times, typically expecting it to get us through them. What we need to understand is that the music we make is an expression of our emotions at the moment, and as such, will serve as some kind of release. Expecting it to always cheer us up is unreasonable because the release that music affords us may be of an entirely different nature. And as much as we would like to believe it, music does not hold all the answers.

At times like these, turning inward to things like prayer or outward to some form of focused physical activity can supply what does not come from music. For me, when all else fails, I go to the batting cages and hit balls to the point of exhaustion.

0 Transposition

The following is something I wrote in a Facebook group in response to a young player who was seeking methods to develop his transposition skills:

The ability to transpose is an essential weapon in the aresenal of any working musician. There are a number of different methods to develop this skill.  Personally, I’m a big believer in transposing functionally, meaning using the Solfege system of Moveable DO (where the tonic is DO) to understand the line from a functional standpoint (as opposed to Fixed DO, where C is always DO).  I also use a LA-based minor.  Allow me to explain:

When I practice scales on any instrument, I sing solfege in my head along with the scale so that my muscle memory relates to the function of the notes in the scale (i.e. if I’m in A major, in my head I’m thinking “DO, RE, MI, FA, etc.” rather than thinking “A, B, C#, D, etc.”).  Whenever I read a line or play a melody, I’m either sightsinging or singing it in my head by function.  Since I have practiced my scales functionally, and hear them as such, I can tell my fingers:  “Play in the key of Eb major,” or “Play in the key of B major,” and because I have done the prep work, not only do I play the right notes in the key required, but I also understand their function and am able to optimize their function for a better performance of the line (i.e. leading tone resolution to tonic, subdominant resolution to mediant, adjusting pitch on certain chord tones to tune the ensemble, etc.).

I understand that intervallic transposition is a tried-and-true method, and many of my colleagues teach that way.  However, my issue with intervallic transposition is that not only does it require that you do math on every single note, but it also negates the understanding of function.

Is it a lot of prep work to get to this point?  Sure.  But the benefits to your musicianship are immeasurable, because not only will you be playing the correct notes, you will also have a greater ability to interact with your fellow musicians on the fly.  And besides, who wants to play everything in the same key all the time?  Not only is that boring, but it doesn’t challenge you as a musician.  Why rest on your laurels if you can constantly push yourself to get better?

FINDING GIGS

The following is something I wrote in a Facebook group in response to a young saxophonist who had questions about working as a multi-instrumentalist and finding gigs:

 

Here’s a picture of my rig on my main casual account, minus the congas. If you are a solid multi-instrumentalist, especially with rhythm instrument skills, you increase your opportunities to work. Add reliability to the equation and you can become indispensable.

Success in this business is not about who you know but rather who knows you. Make yourself as visible as possible. Go to every jam session (jazz, rock, R&B, etc.) in the communities surrounding your home, and go repeatedly. Sub on as many rehearsal bands as possible. Get to know other musicians on a personal level. Go out for a late night bite with them after a gig or rehearsal and talk with them about non-musical stuff. Success and longevity in this business is all about cultivating relationships. Yes, your skill set is important, but in the final analysis it’s mostly about how you get along with other people.

DO WHAT YOU LOVE; THE MONEY WILL FOLLOW

The following was something I wrote in a Facebook group in response to a saxophonist who was trying to find a more lucrative direction in music:

 

If you focus on what might be most lucrative in music, your financial “success” will likely be very short term and in a few years you will have to reevaluate and focus on new skills and repertoire.  Most who view music like this are constantly having to change their musical identity and rebrand themselves.  There’s a lot to be said about the old adage: “Do what you love; the money will follow.”  No one I know in this industry who has had any kind of lasting success has really focused on what could be most lucrative.  They just focused on what they loved in music and worked on being the best they could be.  Now if monetary issues are still a concern after all is said and done, then I would suggest working on networking skills.

DON’T LET THE BUSINESS DEFEAT YOU

The following is something I wrote in a Facebook group in response to a younger saxophonist who is experiencing burn-out and is considering getting out of music altogether:

I remember back in 2000 turning to the drummer on a particular gig and saying, “Dave, I just want music to be fun again.”  I had just finished what, at the time, was the busiest year of my playing career (and by busy, I mean 398 live gigs in 365 days, not counting recording sessions), and was not enjoying the music I was playing on about 95% of the gigs (possibly more).  Most of the “audiences” weren’t appreciative, and I found myself going through the motions.   Even though I had serious chops from playing all the time, I wasn’t saying anything musically.  When I was in the car, I wouldn’t even listen to music, and when I was home, I didn’t even want to look at my horn.   I had no life outside of my career, and the only non-business trip I took that year was 3 days in New York to try to save my relationship with my girlfriend at the time.  Dave responded with, “It’s because we just care too much about music.”  That’s when I decided that in order to have a better quality of life and stay in music, I was going to have to make some changes.

At the end of the summer, I started teaching music part time at a community college (a gig which eventually became full time 5 years later).

My buddy, fellow saxophonist Gary Gould said to me, “There is tremendous power in the word, ‘No.'”   So I started to be more selective with the gigs I took. I also started making time for more important things like family, friends, baseball, and golf.

In 2005, a month before I became full time at my college gig, I was on the road with a band in Boise and another friend, Mark Seraydarian, who was one of the other saxophonists on the band told me about a revelation he had while driving home from a low-paying big band gig: he realized that any time he took one of those big band gigs, it was taking time away from his wife and kids.  It was then that he came up with 3 criteria for accepting gigs.   The gig had to either: 1. Pay enough money to make it worth his time, 2. Give him plenty of improvised solo time, or 3. Provide a great hang factor, either with lots of good friends or lots of top-notch musicians.   If the gig offered to him did not meet at least one of his criteria, he wouldn’t take it. That day, I adopted his policy into my career.

Fast forward to today:  I still do about 250 live gigs a year on top of my teaching schedule, but I pick and choose what gigs I play and I enjoy roughly 99% of them (can’t be perfect–once in a while, I take a gig that I regret later).   Music is fun again.  I actually listen to music in the car again, and derive tremendous pleasure out of practicing.  And I have noticed a significant amount of growth in the past 7 years as a result of being able to enjoy what I do once again.

Don’t let the business defeat you.  Create a plan on how you can get back to the point of liking music again and then implement it.  It may take a while to come to fruition, but it may be far better in the long run than getting out now.