I love music. I wanted to be a professional musician, but there was one small problem.
I couldn’t read music. And I’d never had a clarinet lesson. I was third-chair third clarinet in the high school band which I joined junior year. Everyone else joined in fourth grade, but I worked three-times as hard to catch up. I knew if I continued to work hard, I’d be fine.
I was made for music. In addition to clarinet, I could play fifteen or so chords on the guitar. I wrote music in my head–songs far too advanced to compose without knowing how to read and transcribe music. I sang them into the tape recorder for the day I learned to write them for real.
And so began my evil plan…Operation “Become a Musician.”
I had two choices for college.
The first was an overpriced Ivy League college I visited and didn’t really like. It was exactly the place someone like me was expected to go.
The second was another overpriced university, but this one I loved. It just happened to have a music school attached. A pretty good one, I was told–the Eastman School of Music.
The Ivy League college rejected me, and the University of Rochester (home of Eastman) didn’t. God had spoken. It was fate. I would be a musician.
Had I told anyone—a single soul—about my plan to get into the Eastman School of Music through Rochester’s back door, they’d have hit me over the head with my borrowed student-quality clarinet and locked me in a practice room with a sign that said, “Do not open–ever!” Pandora’s music box.
Eastman, you see, is one of the Big Three conservatories in the nation–the Yale and Harvard of music schools. One doesn’t simply…go.
One applies, one auditions, one studies the notes of Mozart from birth. Parents play Bach in the womb to students of Eastman. Instead of rattles, they get batons and orchestral-quality instruments. Before they’re toilet trained they’re training with Yo Yo Ma. They read and write music before they read English and practice twenty-six hours a day, giving virtuoso recitals by age three.
These days, you can see them on YouTube.
In college, these kids-now-teens hummed constantly waving their hands through the air conducting imaginary orchestras. They skipped meals to practice, which didn’t mater, since music is sufficient nourishment for the soul.
They were serious. And skilled.
And then there was me.
I could neither read music nor write the compositions that swirled in my head. My imaginary orchestra always seemed to be on break, and I spent my time cheating my way through scores of scores by listening to radio and records, memorizing the tunes.
I am going to go to Eastman.
I found the loophole.
Rochester students can take classes at the Eastman School. Just sign up. Done. Completely and totally legit! The diploma says “University of Rochester” but I’d be at Eastman. No one would know the difference.
I signed up for beginner’s courses–Piano 90. Music Theory 101–until I had four or five to start off my musical career. Then, I studied all the theory books I could find, memorizing everything so I’d be ready.
I went to my placement audition with a smile.
Even though I could take classes by signing up, I still had to play in front of a jury to see which ensembles, groups, and classes I’d be in and which chair I would earn.
Coming from last-chair third clarinet and two years of high school band, this was an opportunity to move up the musical food chain.
I selected the perfect piece–a piece I loved that some would consider challenging—Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto.
I couldn’t actually read the score, so I picked the perfect man to help–Sir Georg Solti of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. I played his recording over and over, picking up the needle, replaying measures, following the score with my finger–closed caption for the musically impaired.
I practiced and played. Then, at summer’s end, I packed up my borrowed student-quality clarinet and marched off to Upstate New York.
Now it was time to play for real–a four-person panel of real musicians, listening to me.
I began my Mozart in the presence of these great men.
Twenty years later, I am still remorseful. I include them in my daily prayers. I ask the Lord to make their lives better in some way. I’d like to track them down each Lent and Yom Kippur and beg for forgiveness, because after hearing me, they were never quite the same. I tore the music out of their souls and trampled on it like Marilyn Manson at a Boston Pops concert.
They sat. They looked straight ahead, eyes wide, not sure if this was a musician’s prank or a kid playing for real. Finally, God decided they’d had enough and broke my borrowed clarinet in half. Some cork had come loose and allowed the bottom section to flee for its life.
I raced to put it back together.
“No, no no…that’s enough for today,” said one judge. He was filling out an application for a fast food restaurant since he’d gone partially deaf during the audition. Even properly-played Beethoven couldn’t reverse the damage.
Another judge paused, opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, then said, “So, you like Sir George Solti.”
“Yes, he’s amazing,” I was too ignorant to know he’d lobbed an epic insult cloaked in the disguise of sophistication.
I was assigned to the lowest classes available and given my own personal graduate student, Michelle, for lessons. Poor Michelle earned her work study money that year.
But life was good. I was going to be… a musician.
I needed to act like one.
I surrounded myself with Eastman. I laughed at Beethoven jokes; I breathed the air inside the Eastman Theater, a Gilded-Age auditorium where some of the world’s best musicians have played. I went to concerts. I camped in practice rooms when no one else was close enough to hear me play.
Even though it took me a forty-five minute ride on the blue bus, I took a work-study job at the Sibley Music Library, where I began cataloguing music scores for less money than I would’ve made in a prison laundry. Like everyone else, I was highly indignant when people misalphabetized Russian scores or put Von Weber under “W.”
It took me exactly two weeks to be removed from the music program, which I never did realize was the best in the nation until long after I was gone. It was probably better that way. Sometimes, I’ve realized, we don’t reach for the stars if we’re told it’s impossible to escape the earth.
If I’d known Eastman was like Yale, I never would’ve tried to be a musician. I’m better for having tried.
Years later the same thing would happen to me again, where I’d find myself in an impressive situation I didn’t know were impressive, but this time I’d come on top, once again, by saying yes to my passions and working hard, but more importantly by letting my feet leave the earth once again without looking down until I was well out of the Earth’s orbit.
Life has a curious way of letting fear keep us down. It’s when we don’t know limitations exist that we are not held bound by them.
That’s how to change the world.
Right before I was removed from the music program, I called my former band director to tell him I was struggling and I feared I wasn’t going to succeed. He didn’t sound impressed at all that I’d snuck into Eastman. He sounded horrified.
I confessed I’d gotten a 40% on my first assignment, and a 20% on the second, and that Dr. Harrison said, “You didn’t earn that 20—but I can see that you tried very hard, so I gave it to you.”
I explained how Dr. Harrison, to whom I’m still grateful, helped me find a space where I belonged, somewhere I could succeed. He did it with kindness and the love of someone who knows when a student’s gone wrong and knows just how to guide her back on a path where she can change the world–that’s what a master teacher does.
In the end, I agreed with Dr. Harrison. Brahms was giving me the cold shoulder.
Music became torture. It reminded me of mountain climbing, the part where the summit seems around the corner but is really an illusion, a million miles in the distance.
“Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.” That’s the truth.
Music is my friend again–it’s beauty composes the rhythm of life. I write and play things that will never land on Soundcloud, I’ve sung at a roast or two, site-read Latin at Christmas Mass, and defeated teens in rap battles with zero preparation, in two languages.
I’m grateful for Dr. Harrison, music’s gatekeeper. He taught me good teaching is letting people fail with respect, showing them those failures don’t define them in the least–they are friendly guides to finding our true mission.
Now, I’m in the position of doing that for others. I don’t take that lightly.
I’ve decided it’s time to go back to Eastman to apologize. I’ll sit for a concert or two, check to see if Von Weber’s in the right place, and find an undergrad talking about Mozart. I’ll give him some cash to get out of the practice room and live life a little so he can compose from the heart.
I’ll walk around the Eastman Theatre whispering all the things I’ve accomplished since I couldn’t be a musician, and I’ll promise to continue reaching for the stars.
I’ll say thank you, that the world–and my heart–are all the better for it, and I’m grateful to Eastman, Dr. Harrison, Sir Georg, and the world, for sending me to a place I wouldn’t simply reach for the stars, I could catch a few and see the galaxy for real.
You learn something new every day- I never knew this! I naturally laughed. But also the mom in me gasped and wanted to shout ‘WHAT were you thinking?!’. Meanwhile the awkward shy person in me cringed with that ‘this is going to really hurt, and not just for a second like when ripping off a band-aid, but for a lot, A LOT, longer’. The question is- if you had to do it over again, would you?
Had to step away and think for a minute. I decided you’re asking the wrong question. About Eastman–absolutely. The real question is college in general. I double-overloaded and worked in excess of full time off campus to be able to afford just the bills from the difference between the price and the aid I received. Then there were loans.
I fear I’m among the last generation of students who will be able to shoot for those stars, but I’m participating in a public education system whose reform is touting that all students must go to college. Yet college costs have not been a conversation in this reform.
In the end, I’d say absolutely. I’d have done it again. My major was irrelevant (do I speak Russian on a daily basis–nope). It was the skillset I learned. I learned to survive, to adapt and overcome, to think critically (even if for me it was how to get it all done in the face of difficulties), and I met an amazing group of friends I’ve carried for life–people who are impacting the world and who always urge me to do the same.
So, maybe my lesson wasn’t music. Maybe it wasn’t Russian–I think it was far bigger, and I’d absolutely do it again.
That doesn’t stop me from worrying about my students, who are falling victim to predatory loans, overpriced colleges, and those who don’t choose to go are getting disrespected by a system that overlooks innovation and entrepreneurial spirit in favor of classical algebra. Seems I have a post brewing here:)
Great awesome blog! Do you still enjoy Brahms? http://www.segmation.wordpress.com
I do. Brahms 3 got me through many a moment in life.
Great story! My viola, trumpet, and keyboard are all gathering dust in a closet. I auditioned for the college symphony and I was told that I would need several semesters of private lessons to occupy the last chair. Alas, it is still a hobby (and I love to discuss Brahms!).
I pull out my guitar–the rest don’t do very much. The way I figure it is this–if I admit my skill level is X then no one can throw tomatoes:) I use my music to as an outlet for humor. I think the only time you CAN’T perform in public is if you think you’re the Bette Midler at the karaoke and you blast everyone’s eardrums waiting for Simon Cowell:)
Perfect! After writing the first comment, I realized that I don’t even think my husband has heard me play. Definitely a personal pursuit.
Wow–you should play. My son usually gets the concerts–I’ll whip up a song and then two weeks later he’ll demand to hear that song–I have no idea what that song was two weeks later. I had to record them on the Mac so I didn’t forget.
What a neat story. I really enjoy your take on failure, specifically being grateful for it. I think so many people do the opposite instead of realizing failure is just another necessary step to doing what we’re meant to do in life.
You know, it is… there’s always a path A, a path B… Will Smith said he didn’t make a Plan B because that meant he wasn’t dedicated enough to Plan A–for him there was no other plan. For me, I see that there’s always a possibility–life doesn’t give you one plan, one person, one set of circumstances–it’s up to us to convert what we have to happiness.
So funny. Love your writing style.
Thank you–I appreciate that:)
Very funny..
I have flute tucked away in a cupboard somewhere… Maybe this is a sign..
I still have one clarinet I picked up in Moscow that I was told to make a lamp out of:) Maybe it’s time to do just that…
Good idea.
A clarinet would actually make a pretty cool lamp..
Honestly, this was bugging me until I got to the part where you said you’re writing and picking away on your guitar. You are NOT A FAILURE IN MUSIC if you are playing an instrument and writing your own stuff. Capisce?
What you call “failure” is just a realization that you had to find another path up the mountain.
I don’t consider myself a failure at all–it was an evolution:) I think that we start out life with these hard-core plans in our head, magnified by the fact that we’re 18 or 20 and we know everything in the world, and then life just sort of happens:)
My talents today–wouldn’t trade them for all the “proper training” in the world. It’s what I tell my students–we don’t see our gifts as gifts because you take them for granted often times…
Great writing! Wow, what an experience you had! Really enjoyed your story. I laughed out loud…while still at the office. Congratulations on being Freshly Pressed.
What an honor to make you laugh at work–it would be a bigger honor if you were an IRS or Customs agent, or maybe even in insurance:) Just kidding. Thank you for the very kind words.
I really like the way you put across your thoughts…..great work…!!
Hey Check out a creation for love : teddyandchubby.wordpress.com
I freakin’ loved this!!!!!
Thanks. I’m really glad that it’s gotten this response:)
I had a student once who chose to do a competition before he was really ready, forgot the piece halfway through and improvised — jazz style. I’m sure the panel was like . . . “Huh?”
Yours was a great story, truly! Congrats on FP.
Thank you! Was the jazz…good? Or will your student be writing the sequel to this one day?
Music is a hard life 🙁
Hahaha… Thank you for sharing such a great, great story! I love the message that it gets across — just feel that there’s a personal connection for me to failing at something so ardently pursued at the beginning only to rediscover its beauty after giving up. Love it, love it, love it!
Thank you so very much. May I ask what your particular craft was/is?
Sure, haha, there’s quite a few… for example, I tried to add (computer) technology to my major (which is education), only to discover my mind is not logical enough to write those codes. The best I could do was to modify some parts of the codes written by others… So, I finally realized that it’s just not something I should rack my brain on. But then after giving up on programming, I still enjoy making websites, computer graphics, etc… Now I think that there are certain things created for each person to just enjoy — if I stop trying to become a professional, I’d totally enjoy it… LOL!
That is true. I really enjoy teaching–sometimes I lose focus with the bureaucracy developing in the field of education, but the fact that I get to look forward to going to work every day and I enjoy seeing my students–that’s priceless. The rest might be escaping in my writing. I try not to let it, but it could happen… at any time;)
So true about enjoying hobbies, but the fun goes away when it gets obligatory.
So true! With you on both teaching and hobbies 🙂
*shaking hands* ^__^
Your sharing is intimate, but the greater theme of self-truth is universal. Finding our way, embracing challenges, accepting ourselves as imperfect – these are the gifts woven between the lines of your story.
Thank you. I think we all have these stories of growth and change of vision. Pity I wasn’t as smart at 20:)
What a great story!! I laughed throughout it. I’m a violinist and never really considered myself more than just another freelancing schmuck, but you’re right, it is how you look at it. I could so relate to your descriptions of musicians as having “started their training two years prior to conception, they practiced every day for twenty-six hours, forgoing even basic nutrition for music, which they considered sufficient nourishment for the soul…”
Thanks for this, I highly enjoyed this.
I love the violin! I’m not going to even tell you the sounds that came out of that when I tried…I try to keep it rated PG:)
I had to reblog this. We’re a special breed 😀
Thanks. Wish I could hear you play:)
Reblogged this on Coffee Under the Umbrella and commented:
So this doesn’t have anything to do with furniture, but as someone with a music degree, I laughed at the blogger’s observations of and experiences with classical musicians. I freely admit we’re a breed of our own.
LOVE this story. Great writing with humor well played. Bravo!
Appreciate it. Thanks for reading!
Excellent job. sounds rather like my foray into the scientific world. College level science IS NOT anything like the stuff in High School! My Humanities marks were always higher and while I went on to an M.S.E., I didn’t work out as a teacher, either. So now I work in Security, lower level, and write nice poetry. Come see, at http://www.ourpoetrycorner.wordpress.com. Or, OUR POETRY CORNER on the Web.
Wonderful writing. They always started teaching me every good boy does fine, and all I ever wanted was to feel the vibrations of my $40 pawnshop Michoacan classical that’s so fragile it has to be tuned down a full step. Blues in the key of G-whiz and Goodnight Irene every time.
I forgot the key of g-whiz” I think the keys I played started w “f” and had one other key letter after them. Never good!
This is a gorgeous, funny piece. I actually laughed out loud. You seem to have a gift for seeing the beauty in the everyday.
Thank you:)
Lol! Hilarious! Wonderful lesson learned!
Thanks!!
A major in Music is one of the hardest choices available to a college student. A major in Music at Eastman, well, that’s one in ten thousand. Music is for everyone. Music at that level of professional certification isn’t. You’re still very valuable, as an educated aficionado. You play, which is terrific. And, you aren’t a failure. Few are able to succeed at this particular path, in this specific manner. I’m at your level. I play living rooms, and I entertain my dog and cats on a regular basis. I also have found I can critique and write music reviews well. There’s always a silver lining, if you love music. I enjoyed reading this.
That’s a great idea–I also have the ability to hear and critique. It’s funny–my husband is a classically trained guitarist, but he can’t write or create–must have music. I hear things, but am usually not good enough to play…we used to be at odds, “HEY, that’s a REST,” vs “Hey! I have the record and that’s how it’s played.” Now we can play together and have fun, which is what it’s all about.
I am glad that you found a way to separate music and academics from your professional aspirations. I appreciate everything about this piece. Such a good story and fun life lesson.
Thank you so much–music still comes with me. I can write and play enough to bring pertinent music into my high school classroom, and even the story of falling flat on my face gives me street cred with my students:)
Just found your blog through freshly pressed and wanted to say how much I’m enjoying the read. Love your writing style, and could especially relate to this post! I aimed to study music at university as well (though not somewhere like Eastman, blimey!), but tried to swing it so I was graded on theory as had horrific stage fright when performing. Like your story, it didn’t work out, but thankfully the alternative worked out much better! As others have said, makes me want to pick up the guitar 🙂
Neil Gaiman said in a commencement speech that he was glad nobody had informed him that things were impossible, or he’d never have done them. If I’d had half a clue what “Eastman” meant, I’d have been scared out of my mind. Luckily, I don’t suffer stage fright, and at the time I didn’t suffer intellect either:) I memorized the necessary theory in a hard-core week of studying. It is not with me today.
We should have a B grade ensemble somewhere–what was your lucky alternative?
That is some serious memorisation 🙂 I thankfully realised very early that I wasn’t going to hack it, and so switched to English Lit. Am now a journalist, so it all worked out. B Grade ensemble sounds like a great idea. The second best jam the internet has never seen!
Fabulous. I once taught at a conservatorium (English, not music…) and watched how hard the kids worked and how hard they were pushed into tiny little study and career options. I have been lucky enough to keep in contact with some of those wonderful kids and they, much like you, have learned the very liberating skill of putting things into perspective. I find it abhorrent the way education systems all over the world see tertiary education as the only pathway for the talented and see talented as only those who can bolster the consumerist nature of society.
Yours is an inspiring story and I am pleased to read that you work in education – it is not about the grade, but the wonderment, discovery, challenge, frustrations and friendships along the way.
Thanks, and congratulations. (And I also think you write beautifully).
Those words are very touching. I admire the dedication of those students–for me, the dedication would not have been enough, but I have also made some key friendships along the way. Too often students take for granted their talents, and need to be shown. In my case, I probably needed a hefty dose of buzzer from America’s Got Talent, but in either case, I wouldn’t have traded my experiences for anything.
Bravo! Bravo! Frantic applause in background. What a great story! I used to eat, sleep, and breathe classical, even taking up classical guitar at age 40. Now I’m rolling around in the blues and indie like dog in raccoon poop. And I say, once we have world peace, you keep that coffee!
Great story. I faked being able to read music through four years of high school band, terrified thats someone would figure out my secret. I was even given a solo (only because there were so few french horn players) that I had to play at home football games in front of the whole stadium, which I consistently botched.
That’s funny. At least you got preferential treatment since there is a scarcity of horns:) I was not only really, really bad, I was a dime a dozen:)
Absolutely loved your post! Made an otherwise depressing day burst with laughter! Thanks for sharing
Sorry about your otherwise depressing day. Glad I could help;)
Back in the 50’s, my mom got accepted to Eastman but her family couldn’t afford to send her. It was heartbreaking at the time, but she ended up having nice music career anyway. I’ll send her a link to this wonderful post. Great writing, by the way. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you so very much. I love Eastman/Rochester. I was able to take some music history courses that shaped the way I teach history today. That was a victory. I don’t get up to Rochester enough, though–the snow season sets in quickly.
Oh serendipity! I did a music degree… for all of my childhood and young adulthood I was a “musician” or music teacher. Then life took hold, I had three children and all of them are “broken”. Music became terrifying, dark, horrifying (don’t ask why, I don’t know!!).
Today, I played the piano. I’m still revelling, thinking, questioning. Today, for the first time in years, I PLAYED the piano…
I’m hoping (again, for the first time in years) that music might become what it used to be. Thank you for your post, I loved it!
I took piano lessons after my third child was born. I was terrible but I loved “playing.” Nice post!
I wanted to get a piano now that I’m big, but I figured I have enough things to dedicate my life to, I’ll probably be better off sticking with what I have now. Maybe someday…
Wow. That’s some dedication to following your passion. Even when it did not work out, I’m glad you still carry a love for music. Perhaps your intention was always correct, the end result was not what you had planned.
There’s always music in you. Lovely post!
Cheers,
iRuniBreathe
I’ve learned that it’s important to follow your dreams, even though you’r not the best! If music bring you joy, then you have to do it! Never give up! I love what you wrote in this post. Such a great story.
(http://believability.wordpress.com/2012/09/25/singing-for-a-living/)
I’m impressed with the work and dedication you put in. I’ve always wanted to be more skilled in music, but lack the passion for the bajillion hours of practice necessary before being good. So, instead I created a fake rock band that uses “Music of the Imagination.” Our imagination can make music more amazing and powerful than what any real instrument can contain, so we use cardboard boxes as drums and air guitar. It’s utterly ridiculous and fun, and uses our lack of skill and talent for good.
It’s by exploring that we learn where our talents lie.
That’s true!
Feel free to sit in while I’m conducting. (Just be warned, it’s often it’s when I’m driving the car.) While I can more or less read music, reading all of the orchestral lines simultaneously is another matter.
There is, by the way, an opening for a first-chair clarinet in my band. The pay, however, is hardly to scale.
Seems like you learned a lot in spite of everything. Congratulations.
Thanks. Send me the Mozart score and I will surely cheat on the audition again–maybe this time I’ll have it dubbed like Milli Vanilli to spare you the suffering:)
Whenever I read posts like this, it feels like I’m not being grateful of what I have… but I love it. Just love this post so much.
Thank you–I’m really glad that you like it:)
Your experience with Eastman was a more gutsy version of my experience trying out as a walk-on for a Division One tennis team. What I learned from trying, and a great week that I had filling in on that team when some players were injured (chance of a lifetime!), was that love gets us to do some pretty crazy things. And I’m glad!
Also, I participated in a Gospel choir as a college student, one of just a handful of white students. I absolutely loved the harmonization and energy, and I hope to do it again someday.
I’m happy that I got to read this via Freshly Pressed. Keep writing!
I’m really glad you liked it! Gospel’s the best–you can never have a bad day when blasting the Mississippi Mass Choir:)
That was definitely an entertaining read.
Academic musicians know every recording ever made. When you said you bought the Chicago Symphony Orchestra record and basically mimicked that for your audition, I just knew the panel was going to recognise it. Serves you right (no offense :P). Don’t plagiarise!
At the time, I was, maybe 18. I wouldn’t have even known there were many versions…it was what it was. I was totally ignorant as far as anything went. Just wanted to play nice music and tried my very best. Yes, I most certainly reaped the karma for it in terms of not lasting long, but learned a lot, too…
I hope Sir George would have forgiven me for my ignorance.
Reblogged this on mhardy51's daily Photo-Haiku Blog and commented:
This is fun stuff
A fabulous share about dreams and hopes.. and reality. I am convinced there is a mis-guided spent youth in us all. And music seems to have rode shot-gun with many of us.
Good on you in finding yourself despiite
Thank you–I’m quite stable now despite the big hit to my self-esteem. It was karma–I didn’t belong there, and now when I say I “went to” Eastman, I can enjoy the political half-truth for a moment before fessing up:)
I don’t think you’re a failure! 🙂 I almost was one of those Mozart-party-givers (Stockhausen’s probably more my style though)… But music can be a lot more enjoyable if you’re not drowning in stress, expectations and pressure and slaving over the violin for 8 hours a day. I see daylight now unlike before when I only saw the back of a closed curtain and the insides of manuscript books. I only really play in orchestras, never solo now. I barely practice and I compose instead. I feel like more of a success now that I’ve gotten my life back and have found a way to enjoy music that doesn’t slowly kill my confidence! 🙂 So, bravo to you! Keep playing in your own way.
Did it bother you to give yourself permission to not practice, or do you just get to a stage where you can take it easier on yourself? In what style are you composing?
It actually didn’t bother me – i kind of fell into a life of no practice (in fact, i stopped practicing once I went to uni to study music ironically!!) – it’s hard to describe what i compose (i guess it’s always hard describing what you do!)… it’s sort of minimalist i guess… but not exactly! electro-acoustic, classical sometimes, and sometimes for short films… but mainly, i write! 🙂 What is your music like?
Not good:) Actually, folky-satire. I think that is because I don’t have that many chords in my repertoire, so I have to put them together well.
Haha, you’re modest! Sounds good and fun. A long as it’s fulfilling. 🙂
Dreams chasing can drive us to depression. No wonder most of humanity avoid this pursuit
That’s true, but it’s all in how you look at it… I try not to waste too much time being depressed–it gets in the way of my fun.
Yeah we ought to take pleasure in the challenge
I had a similar experience on the other side of the aisle. As a kid I of course had the prerequisite piano lessons and fiddled around on the guitar. At 15 I began taking guitar lessons and got to be pretty good. I took lessons until I graduated from HS and then joined the army. After getting out I found myself wanting to continue my music education. I played in some working bands every weekend and began to take bass guitar lessons. After a few years I threw caution to the wind and auditioned at Temple U. I found myself in the program, I had luckily had a good foundation in music theory, and I was a pretty good bass player. My excitement was fairly short lived when I met some of the others who had audtioned and even were accepted. A few, it appeared, had never played an instrument or possibly even held one. But I wasn’t angry, and though most of them didn’t progress far, they did add to the dynamic of the class. I look back on it as a great time in my life.
So you might have been, in another geographic location, one of the really kind souls who drilled me for my exams and helped me out.
Temple is a great university–did you stick with music and are you playing now?
I actually did get an associates degree in Jazz performance. I played in various bands for about 12 years, mainly Rock and Blues, along with the occasional Jazz gig. I gave lessons for a while and even recorded a few CD’s that about 8 people heard. My little girl was born 5 years ago and with that I gave up on the idea of playing music every weekend ( and I’m not complaining, staying awake til 5am stops being fun at 30 ). I’m 39 now and spend my free time woodworking. I still play the piano here and there, though I’m not nearly as good as I was 15 years ago. I still mess around on my bass, and on that I can still hold my own. I had a great time playing and there is nothing I would change. I’m kind of glad I got out of it when I did to be honest, because all of my memories of that time are fond. I will teach my daughter what I know and help her with what I can, that’s all I can ask of it.
That’s great–I have a five year old, too, and I’m busier having fun w him and setting up our new little homestead than worrying about anything else:)
This really made my day. I’m currently in school as a piano major, but I’ve only played for about a year and a half. They accepted me because of “musical intuition,” but I still get really frustrated through having to play catch-up with expectations set for people who’ve played 12+ years. Thanks for sharing this and reminding me that music’s not an exact science, that it’s beautiful. Needed to read this. 🙂
Thanks, Amy! I hope you kill it and get to Carnegie Hall!!! Or some really cool jazz club–I didn’t ask your style:) Send me an invite, and I’ll come be a fan! Where are you studying?
Haha, I play just about anything, so long as it’s music. 🙂 And I’m at High Point University: not really a renowned music school, but we’re growing!
That’s the best type of place to be–where you can get that attention and be featured and grow. When I fessed up about Eastman, I was told, “I could have gotten you into Eastern or Central (CT state universities)!” In retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t take advantage of those offers–Rochester is an awesome university, and I’m happy w my path. But maybe I’d have been happy on the other path, too. Who knows. You should bring High Point fame and add it to your resume.
Excellent! This was incredibly well-written. I also think you’re incredibly brave to go so full-on into something that from the beginning you thought you would fail. However, as some other commenters have said, i don’t believe you’ve failed. 🙂
Congrats on Freshly Pressed!
Thanks, Samantha. I don’t think I was brave at the beginning–I fully believe I was ignorant. Very much so. But that saved me a little bit of embarrassment, which I so very much deserved:)
I’ve always thought “failure” was permission to succeed–at something else:)
I enjoyed reading. Musical experts can be so patronising. But where one musical door shuts, another one opens. I sing at weddings on the beach, as they won’t have me in church!
That’s awesome. There’s nothing like a wedding on the beach!
Yes, they’re lovely 🙂
Awesome read. I myself have started playing the piano, and would never think of going to music college even as a mature student for fear of messing up the audition. I admire your bravery:)
Thanks. But if you replace “brave” with another word…you might be getting closer:) Sometimes what we do not know saves us…
I think I’ve failed at music and life… nice post.
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Hope not~ you write great reviews!
I love music and I love writing and have been rejected, or more likely, ejected off traditional paths in both areas. But the heart wants what it wants. I still play my flute and am learning piano, I married a drummer/keyboardist and now my daughter is learning piano. None of us are masters, but our lives are filled with music and pleasure, as well as appreciation for those who are masters. Failing at something, and still continuing to pursue it shows a real passion – something no music school or writing workshop can give you.
Thanks. I think my son is showing an interest–I let him play around for now, and we have fun…we shall see!
I need a drink…..
You were probably on my board. If so, I apologize and I’ll buy that drink–make it a double.
I finished a conservatory degree in music performance, and much like you I left with the feeling “be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.” Those 8 hours of practice a day (in addition to ensembles and classes) made me forget why I started playing in the first place. I stopped playing regularly after I graduated with my B.M. and started a graduate program. I hope to someday get back to the point where performing returns to my life. Interesting that such different approaches can have the same results.
What did you transition into? Totally different area or something artistic?
PhD in Musicology – so I stayed in the field, but thought the lifestyle would be more manageable (ha!). Little did I know I would just replace practicing for hours with hours of research. Now I miss performing. 🙂
I am a researcher also…history. Now that I’ve transitioned into education, I’m not required to research, though I am in love with it–I don’t mind giving myself a bit of a break and instead transferring the skills to a bunch of kids who never knew they were going to love research–because, I tell them, when well written and properly backed up, ANYTHING counts as valid research. I’d love to read some of your stuff:)
Love your blog–that story about the grandpa and the candy you featured–very touching.
You’re my hero.
🙂
Hilarious story… good writing. I can relate since I too considered going to a musical school with no formal training. I’m glad I didn’t and am also now happy playing my guitar and writing songs for myself and my brother’s band. Fingers are still crossed I become a accomplished songwriter someday, I’ll be happy either way though 🙂
Good luck–I was saying in another comment that the game has changed. It’s totally possible to use the internet/social media, in combination with hard work and dedication to get your stuff out there. Used to be at the mercy of a few million dollar A&R guys from big labels, and maybe a few indies on the side, but it cost too much to produce demos and publicity materials, so many good people were out from the get go. Now, it costs only your laptop, your instrument, and your dedication.
that’s very true… we’re living in a golden age of a lot of things right now and one of those is music. Thanks to the ease of creating and sharing it, new music springs up all the time. Thankfully I’ve got some very good resources and connections so I don’t have to just rely on my own lap top and mic.:)
My first guitar was handmade. Peach-crates and rubber bands. When my parents bought my first guitar, it wasn’t tuned, I had no lessons, and no idea how to tune it.
After a few years of playing one-string melodies, I was given a book of songs that included how to tune the strings relative to one-another. From that point on, I was self-taught, played poorly and loved it.
A while back I suffered a couple of strokes and was told I had a few months to live. Couldn’t read, memorize anything, and had little use of my left hand.
Only the good die young, and I’m still kicking, regained the use of my hand, but had to relearn how to play. Mid-January of this year, I took up blogging as a way of tracking my progress relearning to play, and making the video demonstrations and tab I wrote for each lick/solo or song, available to anyone trying to pick up guitar.
This is the love of my life, and I’m back to playing poorly. It’s a start.
Thanks for your post, and congrats on being freshly pressed.
You are amazing, and I can’t wait to read your blog right now. The brain is an incredible thing–I can’t get enough of the miracle of how it recreates pathways for us. Your music is helping it do just that. May you improve day by day and always be blessed!
Well thank you for your kinds words, but I don’t write much on my blog. 99% of it is just the demo of the licks/solos and songs with the tab to help people learn a bit of technique.
In place of “amazing” if you’ll substitute “stubborn,” we’ll be in agreement. B ^ )
I noticed…lots of good stuff. I can’t read tab well, but my husband’s going to love it… I can read “listen to the record” or basic cords. Stubborn is a key element to success:)
Hi Richard,
I’m a bit of a survivor myself. I’ve survived minor brain surgery and been through a long recovery process. A friend in their 20s recently had a stroke. He is a musician and starting again from scratch. Keep fighting the good fight.
Best wishes,
Rowena
Amazing. Not long ago, none of would likely have survived.
Best to you as well,
Richard
Thank you. And you as well!
I hope you’re feeling much, much better, Rowena. You two are both inspiring.
Somehow, I still harbour dreams of becoming a professional musician, even though I am in my mid twenties with no formal music training at all! I know it is virtually delusional and impracticable, yet…
🙂
I think that it is NOT virtually delusional. I have a high school friend, a guitarist named Jonathan Coulton. While he (admittedly) is a great guitarist and very clever with the written song, he has a huge following due to internet marketing. He tours all over, and has fans in every corner of the nation from Greenwich Village to San Francisco.
Paul McCartney couldn’t read music. I think that independent artists have a much better chance if they are good and dedicated and skillful with social media. It’s a critical equation–it is possible to make it in the industry. When I graduated school, I interviewed w a big music company. I chickened out in the end due to NYC and the very low starvation salary–wish I took that job. However, the bottom line is that the industry has transformed, and instead of A&R guys going to clubs to scout you, YOU promote YOU. It can be done–Read “Crush It” by Gary Vaynerchuk. It’s not about music, but it’s about the dedication to make anything work. And it’s short:)
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I do love your site–I love the history and the music as well. Thank you for sharing–I’ll be using it in my class, I know!
Great post! Im a former Rochestarian, musician and know Dr. Parris (pastor Parris to me) & his family well. I can so relate to your story. I always wanted to be a Dope guitar & keys player, but still struggle with it. I can sing my butt of, but just cant seem to have a knack for live instruments.
In Jr. High, I once faked my Way through an audition with a good friend of mine because i wanted to play an instrument so badly. It didnt matter which one either, just any one. It was horrible & embarrassing. I felt worse for the instructor. So, I understand the frustration well.
You know, The best revelations are the ones we learn to accept. Not too many people admit their failures, Not realizing that it will only make you stronger.
Keep your head up.
Oh how I love this. I cannot read music, but I play and sing what gives me joy. Chinese braille, indeed. Real music can’t be written.
True:)
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great read
Thank you!
My brother entered the conservatory without years of formal training. He did eventually learn but not concert artist level. Still, I’m very proud of him. Music is his passion. On Sundays, he plays for the church. He may not be able to make a lot of money from his playing but I’m glad he’s enjoying.
And I just do a bit at home or school–and have fun, which is what it’s all about!
Thanks for visiting my blog. I love and really related to this post. I recently posed with my violin outside the Byron Bay Lighthouse for my husband to take some photos and there is a great photo of me showing off at Lizotte’s (our local rock music venue) on my blog. It looks like I was a featured artist when my music school had actually hired out the venue and I performed as part of an ensemble of beginners.
I know some very talented musicians who really struggle with the public performance side of things while I can get out there and pose but am still a beginner.
Best wishes,
Rowena
The public part–not such a problem for me. The being terrible part–pretty bad for everyone else. But, you know, I just don’t have the training, and I play for fun. I have no problem with that whatsoever. I’m not going to be great, but I’ll still be able to play a bit and write a song if it clunks about my mind. That’s what all this technology helps me with:)
The public part–not such a problem for me. The being terrible part–pretty bad for everyone else. But, you know, I just don’t have the training, and I play for fun. I have no problem with that whatsoever. I’m not going to be great, but I’ll still be able to play a bit and write a song if it clunks about my mind. That’s what all this technology helps me with:)
Thanks for participating in Hello’s and High-Fives!
That was really fun. And I got a good question.
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