Up Against It

Earlier today, I caught myself thinking, " Man, I am really up against it.”

This thought found me in a practice room after I finished teaching lessons for the day at Natick High School. My face was tired, maybe too tired due to my overzealous approach to practice for the evening. As it stands, I’m preparing for a joint recital/masterclass with the ever-incredible Dr. Kevin Virgilio at Western Illinois University in late March, where we will visit with one of my longest-standing trombone colleagues and friends, Dr. Jett Walker. I’m also balancing solo repertoire for some other events, so I’m working up two recitals with minimal overlap.

Maybe this isn’t my brightest plan to date, but even still, I’m kind of excited at the feeling. In fact, I started chewing on the notion that “being up against it” is actually an enviable position. See, I’ve had a lot of practice the last three years working against the pressure of looming performance/academic deadlines.

My third degree recital, which I spoke about in a previous blog, was performed three times over four weeks at three different universities. The program was three concerti (by degree requirement), and I was a mess from the summer until the late fall when it was finally completed. In my final degree recital, I premiered a commission with my good friend and vocalist Seth Lafler after only one rehearsal with him and piano (shoutout to Richard Rivale, who makes everything easier), just the day before we performed. Most recently, I took an audition just three weeks after my daughter was born, despite feeling the lack of sleep and having big (and clearly understandable) gaps in my practice schedule.

Through all of those things, this is what I’ve concluded. When you’re up against it, you’re laser-focused. Nothing helps you identify the goal more clearly than feeling the approach of a big moment. When you’re up against it, you’re creative. You aren’t able to just senselessly throw effort at complex problems, they require nuance, maturity, and patient persistence. When you’re up against it, you are alive. The possibility of failure, and sometimes actually failing, is one of the greatest rewards on the way to a fulfilling journey. This important step is most easily avoided when living an overly careful existence, free of consequences but absent of reward. You rarely look back and regret being up against it. Even the failures suffered from moments of stress seem small in the rearview mirror when I look at the lessons they brought.

So, as I anxiously try to assemble the puzzle in front of me, I can at least look back at the moments where I’ve felt this before. The risks will pay off, growth will be had, and I’m sure I’ll find myself in a similar position not long after these trials have come to pass.

Try This Not That

Before I expound upon the topic of this blog, I want to take a second to recognize a writing/reading/creative block that has been plaguing me for the better part of four months now. For a multitude of reasons, I feel like I am in a bit of a survival mode, and my concentration needs a reboot (maybe in the form of a dopamine detox/social media fast). Anyway, on to the show!!

Are you familiar with the idea that it’s hard to hold a grudge? There’s this logical notion that staying mad at someone or about a situation takes far more of a toll on us than accepting the situation for what it is. In my own experience, this has undoubtedly been the case. As I’ve gotten a little older, I more clearly see how I don’t have time to hold onto facets of the past that I cannot change and that no longer affect me as they once did. I was thinking about this today and realized I’ve been chewing on some other behavioral changes that are leading me to an easier way of going about my business. Perhaps in sharing them, they could be helpful for others to consider.

Don’t Look to Judge - Look to Admire
This is perhaps the principal theme in my head lately and one I have been historically bad at addressing in my own life. As musicians, we are taught to be so critical of ourselves that using that same criticism on someone else is second nature. Moreover, it’s easy to look at anyone in a position higher than our own and think, “Why are they there? They aren’t great at this, at this, or at that…"

Have you ever caught yourself in this pattern of thought? I know I have, and still do, because it’s a hard-wired response. With that said, what are we to gain from this? All I gain is a jealous attitude and indignation at where I am coupled with a healthy lack of appreciation for all I have. None of these feelings serve me in my journey to find my place. So why not observe the good that every honest and hard-working musician provides in their unique way and allow that to be it? By recognizing the positive in others, you can move on and return to worrying about what you must do to succeed.

Reframe the question, “What can go wrong?”
If talking ourselves out of opportunities were an Olympic sport, musicians would give everyone a run for the gold. One can easily convince themselves that every audition is pointless, every job application is a waste of time, and every business venture is a failure waiting to happen. Speaking from experience, I can clearly see how everything could go wrong, but I have plenty of experience with the result that it leads to… nothing.

Failure in this industry and in any vocation is a part of the process. You can’t run from it, and you can’t hide from it; you can only go through it to find your place. Demand consistency and your best, but don’t demand unobtainable perfection—your mistakes will be learning opportunities for you and those seeking wisdom from you later in life. With enough resilience, one of those jobs will stick, one of those auditions will be won, and one of those ideas could put you on the map.

Take Part in Building Up, Not Tearning Down
This could have easily just been tied to my first point, but it’s important enough to make space for itself. Gossiping may be the easiest bad habit one could have. I do it, you do it, your uncle does it, and certainly the people you don’t care for do it.

I believe I’m a good person, and I believe I do my best at all times, but you know what? People probably still have reason to look at various shortcomings of mine and say, “that guy sucks” “how did he even get this far?” etc. etc. etc… and while I can’t be bothered by the thoughts of others of which I have no control, I can realize I don’t like those things said about me and in turn shouldn’t dismiss others in a similar fashion.

Instead, I want to be the peer or the teacher that those who feel vulnerable in their weaknesses can come to and seek advice or support. When you are relatable and approachable you can move forward with a certain amount of grace for your own endeavors, while if you are constantly tearing others down, well… you yourself better be hanging the moon.

So That’s That
These are my thoughts as of late. I feel like I’m keeping my head above water in many ways, but I desperately want to find my way forward in this creative life. I believe there’s a place for me in the not-too-distant future, and there are some projects coming up that I’m really excited about. I’m going to open comments on this post, and I’d love to hear what you think. Thank you for reading!

An Online Studio and the Path Ahead

Opportunities can fall in your lap. Sometimes, the break you need finds you before you know its necessity. In my experience, this has often been the exception and very far from the rule. As musicians (and we are not taught this enough in school), we must not only dedicate countless hours to our craft but also be our own marketers, fundraisers, and content creators. Our reputations are built on sales, whether it’s our playing abilities, our minds, or a product we develop to fill a microscopic gap in a saturated market.

So, what am I getting at? As an individual who left teaching in higher education to obtain a terminal degree to return to higher education, I’m currently at an impasse. There are no jobs left for me to apply for in the fall. I applied for 12 or 13 jobs over the last six months and have been left nowhere to be this next academic year. Despite some disappointment around that fact, I won’t lament where I find myself. I knew how competitive this market was when I left to go back to school three years ago, and as I sit here, I still believe wholeheartedly I have the tools necessary to do an incredible job when I earn that chance.

Perhaps, in this case, a more significant opportunity has presented itself. Last December, my wife and I learned that we were expecting. While the timing was not perfect, we couldn’t have been happier. Higher education often leads you to move where the job is, and away from where you currently call home. We struggled with the uncertainty, stress, and unrealistic timelines around what could happen upon graduation but were prepared to make the necessary moves should an opportunity present itself. Out of all the challenges this year, one thing is for sure: we look forward to welcoming our first baby into the world here in Boston this August, a girl.

Reflecting on everything, had I been committed to organizing a move and starting a college job, my focus and attention would not have been on my wife's needs throughout her pregnancy and the baby. For those who don’t know, I thrive on living a highly scheduled life. I enjoy having a routine and a to-do list for the day to ensure I am meeting the goals and expectations I set for myself. My wife often makes fun of this as the day-to-day schedule never really pans out exactly how I draw it up. It reminds me of the saying, “When you make plans, God laughs,” as we truly never know what He has in store for us, and we can only pray, hope, and work through things as they come.

This brings me back to what I will do for this academic school year: focus on my personal growth with my family and ensure that I am the best parent, husband, family member, and friend I can be. Although it may seem like a “gap year” for me, I have no intention of being anything short of as productive as I can and will continue to grow professionally. I am committed to cultivating a virtual (and in-person as possible) studio of aspiring high school trombone students. This will sharpen my teaching abilities throughout the year and hopefully benefit aspiring high school trombonists from wherever they may be, literally and figuratively. I have been so entrenched in the pursuit of excellence for the last 15 years that I have zero doubt I have much to offer and can help nearly any player with serious intent toward their goals.

If you know of any students who might benefit from a conversation with me, you can direct them here. Testimonials of my previous students can be found here, and as always, I’ll keep my events updated on this page. 

I’m looking forward to an exciting year ahead, and I hope you, reading this, have a great final stretch of the summer!

...Now What?

Six days before my final DMA recital, I watched my good friend and colleague perform his final recital. It was an excellent demonstration of artistry and the perfect exclamation point to his academic career. When asked afterward how he felt, he said, “Pretty much the same as usual.”

I chuckled at this, but it’s a statement I figured I’d soon be able to relate to. The following Sunday, I gave my self-prepared recital, complete with two memorized pieces, a world premiere by David Faleris with my dear friend Seth Lafler, and a Massachusetts premiere of a Jack Wilds piece I contributed to a few years ago. There was an epic mute drop and some notes I wanted back, but all in all, it was a product I could look back on with pride (I’ll share some soundbites when I get the final cut in a few weeks).

Sure enough, I would characterize my post-recital and soon-to-be post-degree feelings as “pretty much the same as usual.” Of course, I’m pleased to finish this three-year chapter of my life, but I’m also very aware of the work ahead. The DMA is a great thing, but it’s merely one ticket that can be used to continue the journey along this winding road. I cannot rely solely upon the degree to gain employment, nor have I ever thought that would be the case.

So what now, Doctor?

I cannot stop moving. If I’ve learned anything since completing my master's degree in 2015, it’s that if there isn’t something to work toward, my growth will stagnate. I love the seclusion and meditative progress made in the practice room, probably more than most, but it is only one part of the equation. Practicing perpetually without bringing those efforts to light doesn’t allow for proper realization.

Over the next year, I plan to commission more music to be written, give recitals in New England and around the United States, take auditions, and develop a studio of students. Ultimately, I want to return to the college classroom wherever possible, but in the meantime, I am in one of the best places in the US to “make it.” Amidst all this, I will be taking on my most significant role to date, which is that of fatherhood. Being a dad will add a dimension of complexity to my musical journey, but there’s nothing I could imagine being more excited about.

Figuring out how to practice… again.

This past year, I have asked several musicians I admire, “How do you go about your practice life?” The answers I got repeatedly centered around a commitment to fundamentals to a larger degree than I have been willing to invest in despite thinking I was doing enough. Moving forward, I plan to commit more fully to practicing songs, etudes, scales, and techniques while balancing the previously mentioned performing opportunities I look to create myself. Being out of school, I am once again my own teacher and boss, and I can curate a routine to ensure my progress continues. As I figure out what works for me, I plan to develop and share this routine on my website as an additional resource for those interested.

Let’s collaborate

If you’ve made it this far in the blog, and there’s an idea you have that I could help with, let’s make it happen! The beauty of my immediate future is I’m in the business of creating business. I’m happy to receive feedback or listen to ideas, so don’t be a stranger. Until next time!!

Connectivity and Awareness

During the height of the shutdown nearly four years ago, I listened to Leslie Odom’s book, Failing Up, on Audible. Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton had recently dropped on Netflix, and I was enamored with all aspects of the production, particularly Odom’s character, Aaron Burr. Failing Up details Odom’s rise to prominence on Broadway from his teenage years and how he discovered his love of musical theater when being introduced to the music from Jonathan Larson’s Rent.

Early in the book, Odom describes seeing Rent live for the first time. From the first row, Odom observed two characters get set on stage before the beginning of the second act and how they shared a brief moment together through a wink and smile. For Odom, this represented a connection that went beyond the performance. It was a split second in time that told a story of friendship and shed light on the perpetuity of making art that transcends what we, as an audience, see on stage. Of course, being an artist is about the work we do in private and the hours of tedious craftsmanship it takes to bring our ideas to life when it matters, but it’s also about the connections we foster with those with whom we share the stage and the process.

Last night, I had the pleasure of playing a very small part in a friend’s DMA Chamber Recital by playing alto trombone on a ten-part arrangement of Wagner’s “Elsa’s Procession To The Cathedral” from Lohengrin. Although I love playing the alto trombone, the part presents a nice challenge regarding endurance and bears ample responsibility for delivering the melody at various points in the performance. Rehearsal had produced mixed results, and I had struggled at times to relax and not “fight” the alto (this is a common thing, strength + effort ≠ good alto playing). During the piece’s recap, I frequently disregarded a moving eighth-note line under my melody, which resulted in a lack of cohesion among the ensemble. My friend playing the line politely reminded me several times to listen down to him so I could properly deliver the tempo, but I had ignored this more than once while being self-absorbed in my part. Last night, while in the green room, we discussed it one last time, and I promised him I would not leave him hanging out to dry.

As we took the stage and prepared to begin, a sense that time had slowed down washed over me, and I felt my eyes make contact with all the members of the ensemble. In that moment, I was among family, and the connection I felt with each member of the group and those I knew in the audience made delivering the music among the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had in my time in Boston. Just before we began the recap, I locked on my friend, and I swear I almost chuckled because I finally realized how easy this all was. Instead of focusing internally, I allowed my perspective to look at what was happening on a macro level. An appreciation for the moment, for the people I was able to make music and develop rapport with, had opened my eyes to something I’ve only been able to key into a handful of times as a performer.

Odom’s book instantly came to mind at that moment, and I went back and listened to that chapter again this morning (it’s the second chapter, in case you want to check it out yourself). It feels like a lesson four years in the making and like a great omen for the months ahead while I prepare for my final DMA recital. Moving forward, I’m excited to place my awareness more outside of myself so as to better connect with the musical world around me.

I Gave Myself 60 Minutes to Write a Blog

For my most recent blog post, I have been sitting on a few ideas, but because I think everything I do requires this profound foundation of planning and editing (music being chief among those), I’ve yet to carve out the time to make progress.

This morning I woke up with what looks like on the calendar as a blank day, no class/rehearsal/teaching, nothing. As I walked my dog, I had the thought, “What if I made myself blog in an hour, from start to finish?” I am among the many that love to wait for the perfect time to do things, I hate short notice, feeling rushed is a cause for panic. Yet, what is life if not a constant adjustment and readjustment of the plan? If you want to look at it from a certain perspective, life is just making a schedule work until you are no longer around to make a schedule work. That sounds a bit nihilist and isn’t really my intent. Rather, maybe we should be thankful for the deadlines and the spinning plates; it means we are alive and doing *something*, no matter how big or small.

 All that said, I’m embracing the challenge (52 min left). Picture and all, this will be on my website, should I post it even if it’s not finished??? We’ll see.

I think what I’m putting to the test is the following: Exemplary (took 40 seconds to spell that right) work is the byproduct of years of focused progress toward excellence. I aim to be methodical and well thought out *so that* on the occasions where I must wing it, I do so in a way that is convincing enough. Not convincing enough, perhaps, to fool people that what I just did was the specific product of hours on that thing, but rather that I’m simply competent enough to get the job done even when the red carpet wasn’t rolled out for my process. (Currently blanking on my subtopics… great)

 NFL Quarterbacks Are Helmet Wearing Recitalists (44 min left)

My wife and I have enjoyed watching most of the NFL Playoffs together. Something she pointed out is that there must be a psychological similarity between an NFL Quarterback and a musician giving a recital. I love this point because it’s not hard to draw the parallels. Quarterbacks in the playoffs clearly come in with a game plan (musicians come in with a plan for how to get from one end of the recital to the other), but a perfect performance is realistically unobtainable. I feel for QBs, because their cracked notes and memory slips come in the form of interceptions commentated by Joe Buck that led to Twitter rants and TV Shows talking about why “they’ll just never get it”. The closest thing we see as musicians to this is reviews by music critics, and that’s heavy enough, but imagine if Stephen A. Smith posted a video of him in a Cowboy hat laughing at you every time you went out and performed poorly. No, thank you.

*slowing down for a second to try and remember what my second point was*

The Power of Community

I wasn’t really keen on doing trombone choir at BU this semester. I’m truly All-But-Document, my last two remaining items are my lecture recital next Monday and my final recital at the end of April (ah 28 min!). The class meets on Wednesdays from 8-10pm, and I’m 32 with a wife, a dog, and job application documents to write. However, I realized a few weeks ago that the community that those two hours bring is a valuable asset in my life. If you reading this have ever had to be outside the context of school and are pursuing auditions, professional performances, recording projects, or anything in between, it is a lonely place to be. When you are the best and worst thing you’ve heard all day, every day for months on end (like during the pandemic), you are not only staying stagnate, but your ability to perform is undergoing legitimate atrophy.

In just two rehearsals this semester I have been provided with opportunities to conduct, play leading parts, supporting parts and apply all the things I’m doing in my own musical cubicle daily. This is something to consider also, and it applies beyond music. When you have a social component that compliments your colleagues, performing in front of them or along with them is a whole lot easier. If I were to see no one at BU for the next three months and then just pop out to do my last recital, do you know how much pressure I’d put myself under? I can already tell you I’d be thinking, “Ugh, they haven’t seen me for months, and I’ve been doing all this work. It has to be THE BEST THING I’VE EVER DONE” – GROSS, what an awful way to have to go out there and be an artist. I’m much more excited to go out and say, “I’m performing for my friends, and that status isn’t at stake today no matter what.”

Update On My New Years Alternations

Not great!!! At least not where I want them to be yet. I have a hard time reading for fun right now, and late-night scrolling makes me feel close to the happenings of my friends. Neither of these are cardinal sins, so I won’t be too hard on myself. That said (33 min), I’m aware that these are still aspects I want to see undergo a slight alteration, so I’m not abandoning my search for a more ideal evening wind down. Like I said in my last post (I think I don’t have time to look), we don’t need a new year to choose to be more mindful at any point, so every day for me is an opportunity and an experiment.

(19 min, don’t get cocky)

This has been fun! I haven’t checked my phone, email, or anything for 49 minutes. It’s proof that when we decide to truly lock in for a bit, things can get done. Whether or not what has gotten done in this hour is of significant quality, well, “That’s just like, your opinion, man.”

New Year, New Minor Alterations

I’m pretty neutral on New Year’s Resolutions. I see their merit but understand how futile they can sometimes be. It’s also very easy to relate to the feeling of a fresh start that comes with the turning of a page into a new year, as well as birthdays, life events, etc. This post is meant to shed light on how I incorporate these opportunities and, furthermore, how I’ve looked to manufacture them organically at any point in the year.

Aim Low

I am guilty of often running to podcasts or motivational speeches. The latter seems a little corny to me, but it has been helpful during both stressful and non(less) stressful periods in my life. Amidst the many nuggets of wisdom I’ve found in these podcasts and recordings, the idea of “aiming low” is among my favorite. Aiming low stresses the importance of striving for goals you know you can easily achieve but that your ego pushes you to believe are beneath you. Examples of this throughout the past few years include drinking 32oz of water upon waking up, going through deliberate cold exposure 4-5 times a week, and simply being more aware of my daily caloric intake with a rough estimate provided by a free calculator. These three items, which for me have brought about a marked net positive since implementation in 2023, take a minimal amount of time.

The Bigger Goal Byproduct

I try and stay aware of keeping the small things in order. If I’m winning on the daily front, I’m much more likely to make strides toward my larger goals. Larger goals for me look like the commissioning and recording of works for trombone, performing with esteemed groups, and working consistently to position myself to reenter the college teaching ranks. When my small goals are off, it’s much harder for me to keep my eyes on the prize or even believe in its viability. My goal is simply to win more days than I lose.

Working In Silence

Making the world aware of your lofty pursuits through social media provides accountability and, in some cases, additional insight to pave the way for success. Conversely, I think that it has the potential to make small setbacks into larger public failures than they actually are. Along your journey, no matter what your goals are, you will encounter days or even weeks that act as a setback. You get sick, there’s a blizzard outside, you just don’t feel like it, etc. These things are okay; it is okay to be a human being and to rest. It’s also a lot easier to get through those periods of time and get back on the horse when you aren’t wondering if people are cheering you on or delighted that you’ve finally stopped posting about whatever you set out to do. I’m not discouraging a network; on the contrary, I make a point to let my closest friends in on what I’m seeking to accomplish. However, some goals and aspirations are easier for me to achieve without the pressure I paint in my mind of the outside world.

You Don’t Need a New Year

As I said earlier, I understand the rush involved with a fresh start. When I moved to Boston, I was able to hit the ground running with a myriad of improvements in my life. Some of these changes stuck, while many faded to a degree and have been brought back in and out of my life as needed. I can attest that in all of my most successful changes, there has been a very clear-cut “why” attached to the goal. I can hit the alarm clock early each day because I know I won’t always have this kind of time to practice when I graduate. I have cut down on alcohol and less healthy foods (sometimes) because I understand how I feel is often echoed in my trombone playing. Having a strong “why” trumps any fresh start provided by a calendar. It’s really only a working hypothesis, but I think having an idea of why you’re doing something while also aiming for realistic goals leads to the most consistent implementation of any new habit. Finding this “why” is not calendar specific.

My Current Alterations

I’ve been very pleased with my ability to stay hydrated, keep up with cold exposure, and track calories throughout 2023 and beyond. Lately, I’ve been more aware of my time in front of a screen, and so I feel this is a natural item to improve upon this year. Last week, I plugged my phone in at around 7:45pm, turned my TV off, and just sat on my couch and looked around. This sounds a bit funny, but it felt like I was really looking at my living room for the first time. My wife was in the room with me, and I had so much to talk to her about; the conversation flowed naturally. This really made me consider the noise that devices cause internally and how it gets in the way of the connection we could have if we just took a moment to look up. All that said, my focus moving forward is to make space for myself at the end of each day and to begin each morning without jumping online to see what will be waiting for me.

If you made it this far in the blog, I appreciate you. Writing is another way that I remind myself that I am more than a trombonist, and I hope to continue to foster this ability and have it serve me in whichever role I find myself in the future. Until next time!

3 Things I'm Glad I Experienced In 2023

Nothing makes your pride in posting every 2-3 weeks seem silly quite like the draining of inspiration from a busy semester. I kept wanting to post, I kept putting it off, and then I felt shame/indifference until I forgot about it for a few weeks, then the cycle started all over again.

Struggling with routine throughout the academic calendar has been common for me, and I don’t think it’s a unique problem. Deadlines tend to bubble up and call for a larger share of energy as the semester drags on, and ambition is the fuel that is burned first to see the most pertinent matters through to their finish line. What’s left from that is typically nights spent staring off into space or scrolling through your phone until it’s time to consolidate the internal forces to do it all again the next day. That said, over the years I’ve improved, and the dimension of this blogging space is just another place to establish greater consistency! So, with that said, here are three things I’m grateful to have experienced this past year.

1. The time spent on my lecture project - In the spring of this year, I took a class at BU centered around completing my lecture recital document. With guidance and careful consideration, I landed on a topic that highlighted the work done by Dr. Irvin Wagner to expand the reach of the International Trombone Association beyond the borders of the United States. Dr. Wagner’s work was critical in advancing pedagogical ideas throughout the world, but also in highlighting the talent that was already present in so many places that we in the United States were woefully unaware of. His body of work was truly unmatched in bringing us all closer together as a trombone community.
   
   I’m glad I experienced this because I got to spend time talking with one of our instruments’s greatest and most humble minds. Dr. Wagner shared his time freely and passed along wisdom that will stand the test of time. As part of the project I also interviewed several superstars of the trombone community who interacted with Dr. Wagner, including Megumi Kanda (Milwaukee Symphony), Rubén Carughi (Professor at Escuela De Música Nº 9901 and found of Trombonanza), and João Luiz Areias (Orquestra Petrobras Sinfônica). Additionally, I also spoke with Angel Subero (Professor at Berklee College of Music and bass trombonist with the Boston Philharmonic), Andrés León Rodríguez (Orquesta Filarmónica de Costa Rica), and Park Changwon (student at Curtis Institute of Music) to learn more about trombone education throughout the world. From these discussions, I was further convinced of the welcoming nature of our community, and feel fortunate to have learned so much. Unfortunately, Dr. Wagner passed away earlier this fall, but I look forward to dedicating this lecture in his honor in 2024.
   
   

2. The Concerto Recital Tour - Between October 19th and November 3rd of this year I performed my most demanding recital to date at three different universities. The prep time to the first performance was about 10 weeks, with a week between each subsequent recital. I hypothesised that continued exposure to the performance space and additional time for adjustments would translate into the strongest performance at the end of the process. What I found in actuality was that I was more mentally fatigued by the time I finished the tour, and small adjustments that I was trying to make weren’t attained as easily as I’d like. My first performance ended up feeling (from my perspective at least) as the most organic and exciting of the three. That isn’t to take away from the work I did in the last two recitals, because they were musically worthy as well, but I believe some small adjustments in approach could lead to an even greater set of performances.
   
   I’m glad I experienced this now, as a doctoral student, because it will inform how I approach similar projects when I find collegiate employment. In the future, I will likely shorten the time between performances and seek to go into a “performance mode” that cuts down on adjustments and prioritizes the mental and physical freshness needed to be successful.
   
   

3. The Professor Is In by Dr. Karen Kelsky and the job application process - One of the reasons I struggled mightily with keeping a regular writing schedule this fall has been the constant process of writing and rewriting the documents necessary for the job market. An overhaul of my resume/CV and the drafts/redrafts of supporting documents have led me to a place where I finally have a leg to stand on when applying to teaching jobs for this upcoming year. The Professor Is In by Dr. Karen Kelsky was instrumental in learning the standard practice of producing/formatting these documents, and I’d highly recommend the book to anyone seeking to better their approach in applying for teaching positions. In addition to the book, I am thankful for all the talks I’ve had with friends and mentors already working as professors and will seek to continue to surround myself in the company of those whom I aspire to emulate in our field.
   
   I’m grateful for this process because it has made me an objectively more concise writer, strengthened my network, and instilled in me a confidence that this career field is obtainable, even if there is much work to be done.

Overall 2023 was very good to me professionally, and I am excited for what 2024 will bring. None of this would be really possible without the continued support of my wife, who is an absolute rock star in her field and a fervent believer in what is possible for the both of us. I look forward to producing more content in the new year, but in the mean time I wish you and yours a relaxing end to 2023 and a Happy New Year!

I've Been Talking to Myself Lately

Cornfield in Cornish, New Hampshire. July 27, 2023, 8:31pm.

Since as far back as my undergraduate years, I’ve been interested in how people learn and progress in a given field. I have read several books that discuss learning and development, such as The Inner Game of Tennis (Gallway), Peak Performance (Stulberg/Magness), Mastery (Green), Subliminal (Mlodinow), and others. One of the big take-aways from this literature is the level of patience, discipline, and even-keeled nature we must display, with great consistency, in our efforts toward a challenging long-term goal.

A topic that comes up a lot in what I’ve read is how we speak to ourselves. It’s common knowledge and common sense that how you speak to yourself is important to your development. If you are constantly berating yourself for all the things you can’t do and speaking to yourself in a truly ugly manner (like I have done habitually without so much as a second thought many times), the path to progress will be filled with an additional obstacle that is even more daunting than the task at hand.

This point was finally evident to me only after years of kicking myself in lessons, recording myself saying awful things to myself, rolling my eyes to myself, or other outward displays of frustration. Armed with this basic awareness, the situation has improved to some degree in recent years, but almost at random, I started doing something a few weeks ago that has made my inner voice even stronger and more positive than ever before. I began to actively speak out loud to myself during my practice sessions.

*Most* of us have a clear inner voice, and that voice pretty much runs unfiltered before we organize what we are actually going to say in conversation (imagine what I’d say unfiltered while riding public transit in Boston to people who are hurrying on to the train/trolley when I have two trombones and I’m just trying to leave, yikes). Naturally, our conscious mind chooses words more carefully for several reasons, whether that is to keep the peace or to present ourselves in a certain manner given the surroundings.

I had a brief moment to work on a standard excerpt before leaving for a rehearsal a few weeks ago, and in that moment, to save face and make the most of my time, I decided to “talk through” the practice session as if I was essentially two people: the teacher and the student. My voice as the teacher was incredibly welcoming and disarmed the feelings I had as the player about to work on the excerpt. The teacher suggested calmly to break the excerpt down to some very fundamental maneuvers on the instrument first so that success was approachable and easily defined. The player performed those tasks and felt a sense of satisfaction and comfort in achieving this right out of the gate. The teacher then suggested various additions to what the student was doing that slowly brought them closer to playing the excerpt, repeatedly encouraging the student to, “Just go for it, if you get it wrong that’s okay, that’s why we are here, and we’ll figure it out”. Furthermore, when the student took chances, the teacher always responded with enthusiasm, whether the student got it right or not. If things didn’t go well the teacher would ask, “Okay, so what happened there? It’s okay that it didn’t go well, but let’s see how we can take a step back and reestablish the consistency we had a moment ago.”  

By this point you get the idea of the exercise. I cannot emphasis enough just how much more fulfilling this practice session was then so many I had previously experienced on this excerpt. The time I had flew, I felt like I was getting tangible things accomplished that would last beyond that session, and my faith in myself as both a player *and* a teacher was enhanced. I was instructing an advanced player with insights that were bringing about noticeable results, and I was receiving feedback from a patient voice that was able to maintain a standard without making me feel less than or like what I was doing was an effort in vain.

My worry when I first started incorporating this as a regular practice was that I might confuse my own verbal kindness and patience with a lowering of what I expected to get done but have repeatedly found it to be the opposite. I am understanding, but firm, in what constitutes successful work on any given area of each session, and I’m more analytically engaged that I would be if I were only speaking to myself in my mind. I’m excited to continue experimenting with this technique as a way to keep myself engaged and calm as a practicing student, and to flush out what my ideas are as an instructor – I view this as a win-win.

I would love to see how those reading this could adapt this in their own practice of music or anything that is practiced regularly and would be interested in hearing back on it. I wish you well on your continued journey towards excellence and fulfilment!

What If I'm Not Inspired?

Over the years, I’ve heard numerous world-class musicians talk about their relationship with practice as one that is stemmed from discipline more so than from inspiration. Inspiration is great and can be actively cultivated, but it is inevitably fleeting, so relying on that to be the reason one takes the horn out of the case each day may not be the most reliable plan. The process of creation or improvement requires attention at consistent intervals; for musical improvement, that usually means daily. For writers, I’m sure it’s also a daily process, but for me, as a musician that recently discovered I enjoy writing, my interval is about 2-4 times a week at minimum.

At the moment, I certainly feel that I am void of inspiration, but mostly as a writer or a creator of content that is not strictly trombone playing. The keystrokes that are being made to make this sentence are coming from a hotel room in Lebanon, New Hampshire. They feel like a response to my own cognitive dissonance, a protest to my current lack of creative energy and a rather annoying headache I’m dealing with. I’m finding value in coming up with something to say when the words are not flowing as freely as they have in the past. I won’t always have some opinion or story that is weighing on my mind, but I think the quickest way for this section of my website to look abandoned is if I wait around to “feel” it, and I don’t want that to happen.

So how does this relate to you, the reader? Whether it’s on your musical journey or any personal/professional endeavor, there should be a series of non-negotiable actions that take place consistently over time, rain or shine. If weight loss is your current concern, maybe logging your food each day, no matter how annoying that might be (or despite the guilt that sets in over the chocolate cake - I’ve been there). If you’re looking to gain knowledge, even five pages read from that dense book you’ve been avoiding is something to celebrate. For musicians, the non-negotiables are likely fundamentals. You’re never too good for simple building blocks played well with a mind on ease of delivery, and those easy exercises or melodies can sometimes spark the inspiration to reach further on a day that initially seemed like it was lost before it started.

Subjectively, this blog is probably not my best or most captivating work. However, it’s an offering to myself and to you, the reader, of a spirit of forward momentum on the winding road of progress. If you read this I appreciate you and wish you well on your own journey in whatever part of it you find yourself on today.

Your Dog Doesn't Care That You Had a Bad Day

My pug, Penelope, turned five years old this past February. I first met Penelope, commonly referred to as Penny (or a myriad of other endearing names), as I was getting picked up from the airport in San Antonio in April of 2018, fresh off the San Antonio Brass Band winning the First Section of the North American Brass Band Association Championships in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

I had grown up around dogs, but this was the first dog that was ours amongst my then fiancée (now wife) and me. Penny, who was about 2 pounds if that, didn’t care that I had just been part of a winning brass band effort; she was just excited to be around an additional person.

The months that followed were not easy for me. As the youngest of three, I have a selfish streak, and I’ll be the first to admit it. The care needed for this creature that couldn’t look after itself taught me a lot, and honestly, I wasn’t great at being a father figure for even a dog at first. Penny was always quick to forgive, however, and over time I matured some and really fell in love with her snorts, tails wags, and seemingly endless energy. If you’ve known me over the past five years, you assuredly know me in some part for always mentioning my pug.

If you have a dog now or ever had a dog in your life, you can likely attest that no one is as happy to see you each day as that animal.

Best day of your life? “Alright, let’s party!!”

Worst day ever? “OMG you’re home!! This is the greatest thing ever!!”

That dog’s love for you and forgiveness is second to only The Divine, but why is that important?

I say all of this because I often think about my relationship with myself and how it relates to my art. How many days have I thought, “Alright, let’s party!!” after a great performance or productive day in the practice room, but failed to show myself the same love on a day where things went horribly, or I couldn’t manage to make the strides I had planned to? So many of those days where I didn’t measure up, I made up for it by just mentally bashing myself over the head with critical self-talk that did nothing but make moving forward more difficult.

What was Penny doing in those moments, you ask? She was ready for me to throw her favorite toy or to fall asleep while pushing her body weight into my ribs. She just wanted to love and feel love in return. What about when I allowed the frustrations of my day to spill over, and I snapped at her for deciding to smell every lamp post in the neighborhood? The second I realize I’ve crossed a line, she forgives me instantly; my transgressions become ancient history at once.

While I feel strongly that Penny is a special dog, I believe that this quality is seen often amongst other dogs. It does make me wonder, though, how much further along our pursuits would be if we showed ourselves this type of love and forgiveness. If instead of looking back at every regrettable note in a performance, you were just to relish in the beauty of you being an artist in a world of so many people that could only wish to make art, wouldn’t the journey seem a little sweeter?

Objectively, I know we’d better off showing ourselves the same kind of love that a dog shows their caretaker, but that doesn’t mean that I’m there yet. I still lament lost moments where I fail to live up to the voice in my musical mind, whether it be because of nerves, fatigue, or just a slip in concentration. However, because of my dog, I honestly have a clearer image of how I should treat myself daily, and that is to forgive quickly and love unconditionally. I hope in your artistic journey, you may learn to do the same.

Tongue Tied: Relaxing Your Body’s Most Stubborn Muscle

“I can hear your tongue being tense.” If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard this over the past two years, I’d be considerably further along on my car payment. What has become increasingly clear to me over that time is that the difference between my sound, which is certainly respectable, and that of my teacher’s or the one that is in my head, is a taming of this muscular beast.

Many young brass players are taught from their musical inception to put too much faith in the tongue as it pertains to the initiation of sound and articulation of notes. The tongue is, of course, of critical importance, but most of us are aware that the air is chief in creating a world-class sound, assisting in range, and performing technical passages with direction and clarity.

These thoughts are not meant to address seasoned players not in need of the obvious statements from above. Rather, it’s a gentle suggestion for all trombonists to revisit their relationship with how the tongue functions throughout the fundamental processes of trombone playing to lower base-level physical exertion and improve efficiency. Consider the following examples and observe how you feel the tongue is working throughout.

Three-Note Slur: Starting on second line Bb, perform a three-note slur ascending to Bb on top of the staff and back down, and then reverse that, starting the exercise on the top Bb. At a reasonably slow tempo, I’d encourage you to avoid “slotting” with a snappy transition to each note in favor of imagining a gliss from one end of the exercise to the next. When comfort and clarity are achieved in a more relaxed state, speed up the exercise to a point that is challenging but where you can achieve the same result with the same relaxation. I find in my playing particularly, I am working to slot notes during fast flexibilities, which creates additional movement, limits the tempo I’m able to perform the flexibility, and negatively affects/dulls the sound. I’m currently of the belief that this is rooted in tongue tension; I’ve noticed an improvement in all areas as I consciously relax the tongue and focus on a constant flow of air past the lips.

High Register Note Starts: I can clearly remember the sound of a harshly struck tongue starting a note above F4, both from myself and my peers when I was in high school. Typically, if the tongue is relied upon to hit a note in the higher register, the sound will be less desirable, and the student could be paving the way for note-start issues further down the road. As a practice, I would find where a note can be achieved with an effortless air start, and as the sound begins, take notice of how neutral and relaxed the tongue feels. After a couple of repetitions, add the articulation back in while keeping the sensation the exact same. With patience and consistency of 3-4 times a week, I would advise a student to move up the register of the horn to their upper register and find the threshold where this becomes a real challenge. Take note of the ceiling of this ability and carefully work this sensation with the goal being ease and relaxation, particularly in the back part of the tongue/throat as the note is being sustained. I think this ability is what gives seasoned players the ability to play in the higher register while leaving the listener to ask, “Wait, was that passage actually *that* high?”

Lastly, trombonists of varying ability levels will often deemphasize their airstream during technical passages in lieu of a forceful use of the tongue. I am continually shocked by how much more clearly and easily fast passages may seem using the breath builder or incentive spirometer (pictured below). The use of these tools provides a visual aid (air being blown while the ball stays at the top of the cylinder) to match with a sensation that is air reliant over being tongue/strength reliant. If a student does not have these tools for whatever reason, simply blowing an air pattern of any technical passage while feeling a constant flow of air and a relaxed sensation of the tongue should suffice.

These ideas are a few primary ways a trombonist may consider their tongue while practicing. While obsessing over a particular facet of one’s playing is not advisable, checking in throughout a week’s practice on how this pesky muscle operates can lead to long-term gains in both sound and efficiency.

Breath Builder and Incentive Spirometer

The Summer Reset

Throughout my entire academic career, I’ve frequently found myself saying, “That was the most difficult year ever.” My senior year of undergrad was a gamut of lengthy academic work, an over-commitment to ensembles, recital and graduate audition stress, and just enough social interaction to make me feel like I never had time for myself. Just two years later, in my second fall semester at Alabama, I enrolled in the most stressful musicology class I’ve ever taken while also taking a challenging graduate theory course. That same semester I remember sleeping on the third floor outside of the concert hall lobby as I rewrote a 20-page paper from scratch (I apparently missed the mark well enough on my first attempt).

When I was teaching, there were different stressors. I was no longer just dragging myself along to meet certain administrative and musical goals, but I was also trying to be as enthusiastic and disciplined as I could for my students to offset the inevitable dip in motivation that is felt as the semester wears on. The silver lining here was I really loved every second of lessons and ensembles that I got to teach and to see the students’ progress (even when they didn’t) negated a lot of the anxiety.

Having finally wound down this spring semester in 2023, I can say this was truly the crown jewel of stressful years. I knew from the jump it wouldn’t be easy because I wanted to front-load my DMA to allow for a much easier third year. At BU, we have Qualifying Exams, which are made up of four theory exams, a musicology exam, a language exam, and an exam on the basic history of our instrument. I came into the year needing to complete four of the seven exams, which I did, and will now be able to take my oral exam in the fall. I also completed my ensembles requirement, gave two recitals, wrote a 26-page lecture document, and finished up all but three hours of academic work.

Amidst the rigor of this past year, and the trying semesters I talked about before that, there is a common occurrence – the shedding of what I want to do in favor of what I *need* to do.  This happens mostly in the form of trombone playing. I found myself so often staying up late for rehearsals or to study/write that the next morning I’d carry myself into a rehearsal, warm up for two minutes and jump into the task at hand. While the skill of warming up quickly is very valuable to real-world application, doing so over the course of six weeks, as I did, is both taxing mentally and musically. At some point, you feel yourself not being your best, but the demands of what is in front of you don’t allow for much wiggle room in your schedule, so you just carry on and play the notes. See? Even that last sentence sounds futile and sad, but that’s honestly how I felt this semester.

All that said, it’s now the summer. I have some left-over stress that I’m working through, but largely I’m so happy to get back to a routine that is centered around creativity and music making. I’m naturally a morning person, so controlling when I can go to bed and getting up to chase the New England Sun (the first light was 4:36 AM this morning) is how I feel the most productive. I thrive on structure and planning, and I feel I have the time over the next three months to lay a foundation via planned practice sessions, a heavy fundamental approach, and putting myself into controlled discomfort (playing for peers) to set up a really rewarding final year of my academic career.

If you’re reading this, I hope you have some time this summer to identify tangible goals for yourself, take some time to recharge, and do some things that productively scare you. The work done and appropriate rest taken over the next three months will decide a lot about where you find yourself at the beginning of next year.

Finding the Artist Within

For years it was hidden in front of me in plain sight. This idea of being an artist was interspersed between high school marching and concert band, the all-state process, solo and ensemble, but like so many young musicians, I didn’t really see it. My instructors were wise and insightful, and my undergraduate and graduate years were full of amazing musicians and performers. I got to travel to places I’d otherwise never have gone, and despite witnessing artistry many times, it never quite sank in. I was blessed to teach for six years after my Master’s Degree, four of which were at the university level, where I feel that I made a worthwhile impact, all while not truly getting it.

We typically feel most enlightened in our current state, so perhaps I’m still some time from getting “it”, but I finally can identify the difference between what I used to want to become and what I wish to be now. I grew up wanting to be a great trombonist - to play high and fast on command, to wow onlookers with flashy technique and dexterity. Since studying in Boston, I realize you can have all of those things while still ringing hollow with those that are listening.

What I know now is that I want my art, my self-expression whose vehicle is the trombone, to move those in the same way that a sculpture brings life to clay or an actor recalls the traits of someone long since passed. The task is tall for trombonists, in my opinion, at least. We are often diminished when compared to other instrumentalists and vocalists for our cumbersome, characterized nature; we are even known for downplaying our own significance at times. Despite that, I find this to be a worthy endeavor. Playing trombone with the purpose of someone who is trying to speak their truth rings more fulfilling than simply trying to clean a passage for the sake of nervous perfectionism. Approaching music in the way of the former allows for the human aspect. It allows for highs and lows, success and failure, and it’s a journey. It’s a journey I’m glad to finally recognize and embrace.