People frequently ask me what it's like to live the "glamorous" life of a jazz musician. That always makes me chuckle, as there is very little that is glamorous about my life. Yes, I do put on fancy clothes. Yes, I occasionally get my photo taken. Yes, people to write articles about me and my music gets played on the radio. Yes, I get to meet and play with legendary jazz artists like Wycliffe Gordon and Benny Powell.
Alas, that is only about 10% of the time. Of the other 90% of the time, I think I spend about 30% doing business - press releases, booking, publicity, website updates, etc. I spend 30% of my time teaching and preparing materials and about 30% of my time actually creating music - writing, practicing, etc.
What I love about being a freelance artist is that I am literally "free" to pursue the work that I am interested in pursuing, although I also try to be mindful of actually putting food on the table. But I am usually Sorry to ruin the image of the jazz diva lounging around in an evening gown smoking cigarettes and sipping scotch. It's more like an overworked woman in jeans and flip flops with glasses on and hair in ponytail warming up her coffee in the microwave for the third time.
So much for my glamorous life, eh?
Thursday, September 24, 2009
June 8th, 2009 - Babys first...PIPE ORGAN?!?!
As many of you know, I am the music director of Trinity Episcopal Church in Cliffside Park, NJ. This is a gig that I initially took because my friend was the cantor there and we wanted to have fun and make music together. It has turned into one of the most fascinating journeys of my life.
I was raised in Dunlop United Church in Sarnia, Ontario - a small, family-oriented parish where my father was actively involved in the Vestry. We were a very low key church - no incense, no pomp or circumstance, etc.
Contrast this to Trinity - where we do "high church" and a full Eucharist every Sunday. In all my years of church attendance (although it was quite rare in my adult life), I had never participated in a Catholic mass. There was a huge learning curve and I frequently forgot to play the Alleluia before the reading of the gospel and other such "mass"-ive faux pas. (pun intended)
For the last three years, as a substitute organist and now as the Music Director, I have played the piano and electric keyboard that has organ sounds. The church has a beautiful Muller organ that had fallen into extreme disrepair after years of neglect. I nicknamed the organ the "Death Star", as it was not yet fully operational. Dave Schumach, our brilliant organ repairman managed to get it to playable condition in March. Great news!! Except...I DON'T PLAY ORGAN.
I went to Thomas Schmidt, the music director at St. Peter's Lutheran (also known as the "Jazz Church") In ignorance/arrogance, I figured he'd be able to get me playing the organ in one 1 hour lesson. Once he took me on a tour of St. Peter's organ, I realized that I was in deep trouble. Organ is WAY harder than I thought it was going to be.
After that lesson, I spent a few hours a week practicing at Trinity with my "Organist's Manual" open to the easiest sections. It took FOREVER just to get my feet moving at all. I pressed on.
Fast forward to Easter Sunday, where I got to the church at 7am so I could cram for the service. I played "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today" about 100 times, with my clumsy feet tripping over the pedals like a drunken white guy at his cousin's wedding. The congregation was very kind after the service.
Since then, I have been playing every Sunday morning. I practice for an hour before the service, doing a quick warmup and them jumping right into the hymns. For the last two months I have been playing only with my right hand and my feet. I just couldn't get my left hand in on the action. Until yesterday.
Yesterday morning I was finally able to get the left hand in on the action. It was miraculous. Hymns are arranged in four parts closed score, which means that the right hand plays the soprano and alto parts, the left hand plays the tenor and the feet play the bass. My organ renditions have been completely tenor-less until yesterday, when I finally felt ready to give it a go. Once the service was over, I got more compliments than ever before from the congregation, Willie the priest and Nathan the cantor. it was a Christmas miracle, taking place in the middle of Pentecost.
Why would a jazz pianist/singer want to learn the pipe organ? What would be the point?
I have long given up hope of ever climbing Mount Everest, or swimming the English Channel. It is unlikely that I will ever win an Olympic gold or place in the top five at Wimbledom. Sports and such are not my thing. Music is.
The organ is the instrument that Bach played. Church music is the source of nearly all Western music, including all theory as we know it. The organ is my Everest. When I'm up in the loft, trying to sort out my limbs and I make this joyful noise (it's really friggin loud), I feel somehow closer to God. It's hard not to have a spiritual moment when I'm blasting away on Holy! Holy! Holy! I also feel like anything is possible when I am up there. I am serving my congregation, I am serving the Spirit and I am learning once again that I can do anything I set my mind to. I am also learning to be patient, as it has taken me months of work to be able to get through a few simple hymns.
So, I continue. My congregation is thrilled, and I overlook the odd comment made about the clunky boots that I have to wear when I play. I bet you I'm the only church organist around who wears sundresses and pencil skirts to hammer out the hymns on Sunday morning. Who said the organ wasn't sexy?
I was raised in Dunlop United Church in Sarnia, Ontario - a small, family-oriented parish where my father was actively involved in the Vestry. We were a very low key church - no incense, no pomp or circumstance, etc.
Contrast this to Trinity - where we do "high church" and a full Eucharist every Sunday. In all my years of church attendance (although it was quite rare in my adult life), I had never participated in a Catholic mass. There was a huge learning curve and I frequently forgot to play the Alleluia before the reading of the gospel and other such "mass"-ive faux pas. (pun intended)
For the last three years, as a substitute organist and now as the Music Director, I have played the piano and electric keyboard that has organ sounds. The church has a beautiful Muller organ that had fallen into extreme disrepair after years of neglect. I nicknamed the organ the "Death Star", as it was not yet fully operational. Dave Schumach, our brilliant organ repairman managed to get it to playable condition in March. Great news!! Except...I DON'T PLAY ORGAN.
I went to Thomas Schmidt, the music director at St. Peter's Lutheran (also known as the "Jazz Church") In ignorance/arrogance, I figured he'd be able to get me playing the organ in one 1 hour lesson. Once he took me on a tour of St. Peter's organ, I realized that I was in deep trouble. Organ is WAY harder than I thought it was going to be.
After that lesson, I spent a few hours a week practicing at Trinity with my "Organist's Manual" open to the easiest sections. It took FOREVER just to get my feet moving at all. I pressed on.
Fast forward to Easter Sunday, where I got to the church at 7am so I could cram for the service. I played "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today" about 100 times, with my clumsy feet tripping over the pedals like a drunken white guy at his cousin's wedding. The congregation was very kind after the service.
Since then, I have been playing every Sunday morning. I practice for an hour before the service, doing a quick warmup and them jumping right into the hymns. For the last two months I have been playing only with my right hand and my feet. I just couldn't get my left hand in on the action. Until yesterday.
Yesterday morning I was finally able to get the left hand in on the action. It was miraculous. Hymns are arranged in four parts closed score, which means that the right hand plays the soprano and alto parts, the left hand plays the tenor and the feet play the bass. My organ renditions have been completely tenor-less until yesterday, when I finally felt ready to give it a go. Once the service was over, I got more compliments than ever before from the congregation, Willie the priest and Nathan the cantor. it was a Christmas miracle, taking place in the middle of Pentecost.
Why would a jazz pianist/singer want to learn the pipe organ? What would be the point?
I have long given up hope of ever climbing Mount Everest, or swimming the English Channel. It is unlikely that I will ever win an Olympic gold or place in the top five at Wimbledom. Sports and such are not my thing. Music is.
The organ is the instrument that Bach played. Church music is the source of nearly all Western music, including all theory as we know it. The organ is my Everest. When I'm up in the loft, trying to sort out my limbs and I make this joyful noise (it's really friggin loud), I feel somehow closer to God. It's hard not to have a spiritual moment when I'm blasting away on Holy! Holy! Holy! I also feel like anything is possible when I am up there. I am serving my congregation, I am serving the Spirit and I am learning once again that I can do anything I set my mind to. I am also learning to be patient, as it has taken me months of work to be able to get through a few simple hymns.
So, I continue. My congregation is thrilled, and I overlook the odd comment made about the clunky boots that I have to wear when I play. I bet you I'm the only church organist around who wears sundresses and pencil skirts to hammer out the hymns on Sunday morning. Who said the organ wasn't sexy?
June 15, 2009 - Jazz hands, people
Many of you know about my deep affinity for choral music. I don't know when it happened, but I fell madly in love with it and can't get enough of it.
In 2004, I was offered a gig at the Hartwick Summer Music Festival (now called the New York Summer Music Festival). I was only 27 years old and had just finished my Master's degree at MSM. I had no idea what to expect. In addition to teaching private lessons, running a combo, playing with guest artists and playing in the big band, I was expected to run a vocal jazz ensemble. Vocal Jazz Ensemble?!?!
I immediately called upon my singer friends who gave me scores of jazz choir music and most of it was really corny and cheesy. "Do ba do wee?" "Badalabado DAY?" Oh dear. I didn't think I could conduct any of that with a straight face, so I did what any self respecting woman with no previous experience in composing vocal music would do. I wrote my own.
The first few charts I wrote were pretty intense. The harmonies were really dense, the ranges were a bit extreme (I am still apologizing to the poor tenors) and the music would have been EASY for instrumentalists to play. Singers, on the other hand, YIKES. I was blessed with eager students who worked hard and had MANY sectional rehearsals so that they could pull off what I was putting in front of them. I am still amazed that those first groups were able to perform those nearly impossible charts! (You know who you are.)
That was six summers ago. (And magically, I am still only 27...) Since then I have spent a great deal of my creative life composing and arranging music for voices. My Sacred Voices Project - music for four voices and jazz quartet will be recorded at the end of the summer, and I have done commissions for a variety of choirs in the US and Canada.
And here I am six years later writing 10 more charts for this summer's festival. I have been thinking and planning all year, trying to put together the perfect program for each two week session, which will showcase the talent in the group without killing us all in the rehearsal process. As always, I still have a lot of writing to finish before D-Day (the first day), but I think this year is going to be the best yet. And yes, I do say that every year.
In 2004, I was offered a gig at the Hartwick Summer Music Festival (now called the New York Summer Music Festival). I was only 27 years old and had just finished my Master's degree at MSM. I had no idea what to expect. In addition to teaching private lessons, running a combo, playing with guest artists and playing in the big band, I was expected to run a vocal jazz ensemble. Vocal Jazz Ensemble?!?!
I immediately called upon my singer friends who gave me scores of jazz choir music and most of it was really corny and cheesy. "Do ba do wee?" "Badalabado DAY?" Oh dear. I didn't think I could conduct any of that with a straight face, so I did what any self respecting woman with no previous experience in composing vocal music would do. I wrote my own.
The first few charts I wrote were pretty intense. The harmonies were really dense, the ranges were a bit extreme (I am still apologizing to the poor tenors) and the music would have been EASY for instrumentalists to play. Singers, on the other hand, YIKES. I was blessed with eager students who worked hard and had MANY sectional rehearsals so that they could pull off what I was putting in front of them. I am still amazed that those first groups were able to perform those nearly impossible charts! (You know who you are.)
That was six summers ago. (And magically, I am still only 27...) Since then I have spent a great deal of my creative life composing and arranging music for voices. My Sacred Voices Project - music for four voices and jazz quartet will be recorded at the end of the summer, and I have done commissions for a variety of choirs in the US and Canada.
And here I am six years later writing 10 more charts for this summer's festival. I have been thinking and planning all year, trying to put together the perfect program for each two week session, which will showcase the talent in the group without killing us all in the rehearsal process. As always, I still have a lot of writing to finish before D-Day (the first day), but I think this year is going to be the best yet. And yes, I do say that every year.
September 24th, 2009 - The early days in New York
Moving to New York has always been a dream of mine since I first discovered jazz at age fifteen. My idea of what New York City life was about consisted of living in the Village in a loft and going to late night jam sessions. Success was measured in the frequency with which I played with the "heavies" - maybe Ron Carter or Elvin Jones.
I first moved to New York in 2001 with a fresh load of cash I saved from a winter's worth of pianobar work on a cruise ship. I initially moved to brooklyn and fled after a bizarre incident with a roommate, which is a story for another time. My cousin Karin, a well known visual artist, graciously offered to let me rent her second bedroom on the Lower Eastside. I rented a keyboard and set up an amazing jazz-centered experience. I took voice and piano lessons, practiced 8 hours a day, heard live music almost every night and camped out at the late night jam session at Smalls.
This was an incredible time of rediscovery for me, a jazz obsessive who had taken a six month hiatus from her addiction to all things Bud Powell, in exchange for a paycheck. Six months of Pianoman and Crocodile Rock had taken their toll on my jazz persona and I was ready to move back to my music of origin. I arrived in NYC in early spring with the dream of becoming a jazz musician once again.
My schedule was set in stone: 9am wakeup and chat with artist cousing. 10am practice, taking a short break to watch the last 30 minutes of the Young and the Restless. 5pm I would stop practicing and head to a 5:30 yoga class at a Hare Krishna temple at 1st Ave and 1st Street. I frequently had dinner with my cousin and then was out every night hearing music.
When I look back, those days were pure bliss. I had no responsibilities and since I was new in a big city, I was completely anonymous. With a sharper pair of glasses, I can remember how intense the entire experience was. I had some vocal issues at that time, due to overuse on all those months on the cruise ship and I was working hard with my voice teacher to overcome them. It was very scary.
I also remember feeling so far behind the other musicians my age, who I was hearing night after night at clubs in the Village. I thought I would never get "there", wherever "there" was. I practiced long and hard, so that I could fully internalize everything that I was learning from my piano teacher Garry Dial. I learned songs, transcribed solos and started composing material that didn't sound so "standard".
Interestingly enough, the early New York influence is really reflected on my 2002 CD "All She Needs". Half of the CD was recorded pre-New York and half of it was recorded post-New York. Change was happening to my playing and to my life as a whole.
That was eight years ago. I have been in New York ever since and I am amazed by how different my life and my life in music is. I moved through a lot of the insecurities and compulsions of music and have managed to carve a niche out for myself that I find challenging and engaging. I am in such a different place than I was less than a decade ago.
There are times where I wish I could reach out to that younger woman and tell her that everything is going to work out and that she shouldn't be so afraid. I also share with my students how crucial it is to enjoy the journey. The journey is all there is.
I first moved to New York in 2001 with a fresh load of cash I saved from a winter's worth of pianobar work on a cruise ship. I initially moved to brooklyn and fled after a bizarre incident with a roommate, which is a story for another time. My cousin Karin, a well known visual artist, graciously offered to let me rent her second bedroom on the Lower Eastside. I rented a keyboard and set up an amazing jazz-centered experience. I took voice and piano lessons, practiced 8 hours a day, heard live music almost every night and camped out at the late night jam session at Smalls.
This was an incredible time of rediscovery for me, a jazz obsessive who had taken a six month hiatus from her addiction to all things Bud Powell, in exchange for a paycheck. Six months of Pianoman and Crocodile Rock had taken their toll on my jazz persona and I was ready to move back to my music of origin. I arrived in NYC in early spring with the dream of becoming a jazz musician once again.
My schedule was set in stone: 9am wakeup and chat with artist cousing. 10am practice, taking a short break to watch the last 30 minutes of the Young and the Restless. 5pm I would stop practicing and head to a 5:30 yoga class at a Hare Krishna temple at 1st Ave and 1st Street. I frequently had dinner with my cousin and then was out every night hearing music.
When I look back, those days were pure bliss. I had no responsibilities and since I was new in a big city, I was completely anonymous. With a sharper pair of glasses, I can remember how intense the entire experience was. I had some vocal issues at that time, due to overuse on all those months on the cruise ship and I was working hard with my voice teacher to overcome them. It was very scary.
I also remember feeling so far behind the other musicians my age, who I was hearing night after night at clubs in the Village. I thought I would never get "there", wherever "there" was. I practiced long and hard, so that I could fully internalize everything that I was learning from my piano teacher Garry Dial. I learned songs, transcribed solos and started composing material that didn't sound so "standard".
Interestingly enough, the early New York influence is really reflected on my 2002 CD "All She Needs". Half of the CD was recorded pre-New York and half of it was recorded post-New York. Change was happening to my playing and to my life as a whole.
That was eight years ago. I have been in New York ever since and I am amazed by how different my life and my life in music is. I moved through a lot of the insecurities and compulsions of music and have managed to carve a niche out for myself that I find challenging and engaging. I am in such a different place than I was less than a decade ago.
There are times where I wish I could reach out to that younger woman and tell her that everything is going to work out and that she shouldn't be so afraid. I also share with my students how crucial it is to enjoy the journey. The journey is all there is.
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