Party's Over/Begun

Back in the spring of 2001, the Jaztronauts invited me to play a three-week gig with them in Zurich, CH. The quartet consisted of sax, piano, bass and drums, but because of this specific contract, they needed a fifth member, so I got the call. The club was a little room in the historic “old town” part of the city called the Casa Bar. They usually hosted bands for at least a week at a time, with local groups covering the off nights. We stayed in a suite of apartments on the second floor of the building, directly above the club. The daily schedule consisted of waking up sometime between 11:00am and 1:00pm, walking down the street for some espresso, heading out to stroll along the boardwalk, smoke, take a nap in the sun, practice, eat dinner, shower and change for the gig. Did you know when you buy a bratwurst by the sea in Zurich you get meat in one hand and your bread (roll) in another? We played for 5 ½ hours, 6 nights a week. There were 5 sets a night, 6 on the weekends. Man, that third set was weird, a real twilight zone. After the gig, we’d walk down to this German restaurant in the red light district and eat and drink until about 4:00am. I remember thinking about halfway through the third week, when the cigar smoke curled up past my head, “This is what I want to do with my life.” Jazz.

After the contract was over, the band traveled to Italy while I stayed in Zurich. I felt like exploring. So I sent my suitcase on with the guys (they had the car) and I kept my horn and headphones, that’s about it. I figured I could survive for a couple of days.

I hopped a train out of town to a friend’s house, who I had met a week or so earlier, and hung out with him and his girlfriend from South Africa that afternoon. His place was high up on the hill overlooking the sea, a gorgeous view. He mentioned a party back in town that night and asked if I wanted to tag along. Seemed like a great idea.

The Party

So we headed off to the party that night in the “bad” part of town, not that I knew any difference. It did look much newer than the neighborhood that I was used to, perhaps it was only 100 years old?!! We headed into a row house that was six or seven stories high, up the steps, all the way to the top floor. It was a comfortable place, not extravagant, but nice and artsy. There were about 12 people there from all over the world. I was the only American. It was a fun hang, lots of eating, drinking and talking. The usual.

Around 1:30am, we opened the trap door in the ceiling and went up into the attic. It was a big, open room, with hardwood floors, carpets and rugs, and a round window on the front wall overlooking the city. There were all kinds of pillows thrown about, and the incense seemed to already be burning somehow. Only 8 people had lasted this long…

“Late in a good party, there is a subtle change in the air. Some people feel it as a time to say goodbye. Some people have used up their energy and bow out, unable to continue. A select few remain. The mood is tangible; you can almost taste it. The senses heighten, intimate connections are made, life glows… This moment, when the party seems over, is when it has just begun.”

The party had moved to another level as well. There was a tray of cocaine (I abstained), various other stimulants, and smoke so dense you could barely see. Then came the music. There was this amazing musician playing something that looked like a mandolin as well as other people playing guitars, plus a variety of world percussion, and of course we all were singing. I grabbed a hand drum and joined right in. We were all singing and laughing. A man and woman disappeared around the curtain and two beautiful Brazilian women began to make out with each other. I sat in the center of this wonderful world and sang until morning.

The next day I found my way to a park bench on the boardwalk, put on my headphones, threw in a Maria Schneider’s Allegresse, and slept. The police didn’t bother me. That night I went to a small jazz club called the Garage. Another friend of mine had opened it a year or so earlier. A few blurry hours later, I ended up passing out on the floor sometime during the second set. I keep telling myself it was from exhaustion. I remember looking up to a circle of surprised and concern faces staring down at me, a strange experience to say the least. A few guys from the band and a few audience members helped me up into a chair. The woman behind the bar was kind enough to get me some orange juice. The cats guided me outside to the train and I somehow found my way to the airport and crashed on another bench. The following morning, the guys in the band showed up right on time and probably thought I was a wreck. Nothing could be further than the truth.

When I arrived back in Minneapolis, I rented a new apartment downtown, cut back heavily on my “freelance” playing, got together my own band, began laying the groundwork for my first CD, “Party’s Over/Begun.”

Ten years ago today, November 14, 2001… we started recording.

The New Record Deal

"Have University positions become the new major label record deal for today's jazz musician? When I moved to New York in the late '80s/early '90s, [we] were either looking to play in the band of someone famous or to get signed by a major record label. Today, since neither is an option, university positions seem to be the "new hustle," as one of my colleagues likes to put it." - Sam Newsome, quoted from Downbeat, June 2010. He is on faculty at Long Island University Brooklyn Campus.

The Past

The legendary “Record Deal” is an endangered species. It was the golden gateway to success throughout the history of jazz. An artist would get signed by a label, go into a recording studio, capture lightning in a bottle, and walk out with a paycheck. More importantly, this was the only way to get your music distributed to record stores across the country, and eventually into the hands of eager listeners. The label would hopefully make money because of the artist’s work and in turn provide a certain amount of support for live performances, in order to sell more records. This circle of life evolved slowly, from 78’s through the Compact Disc, it was the law of the land. This was the Jazz Dream.

The Record Deal provided musicians a needed supplementary income to assist with their performance career. All great jazz musicians spent time in the studio, in order to walk out with a check. Touring was the heart of every career, but the income and exposure from the label’s marketing department, provided the skeletal support and the public image needed for their livelihood.

As jazz aged and became more socially acceptable, it was introduced into academia. At this time, a musician either primarily taught jazz as a career or they would primarily perform jazz as a career. Not to diminish in any way the greatness of their mission, these early jazz educators were heroes in their own right. They had to create entire curricula, essentially constructing the entire industry of jazz education. They had to bravely defend the artform from the highbrow attacks of traditional classical methodologists deeply fortified within the Ivory Tower. They have succeeded, the point has been proven. We need jazz education.

There is still a false assumption that this concept of teach vs. play is relevant, even when dancing along the lines of a “teacher who plays” or a “player who teaches”. When a young musician thinks, “I’m going to make it as a player,” what does that really mean these days? Or, “I’m going to be a teacher,” and teach WHAT exactly?

Times are changing. Remember, this year’s Grammy Award for “Best New Artist” went to a Jazz Professor at Berklee College of Music.

The Present

The old industry chain of: Record Deal - Label - Distributor - Record Store - Consumer, is dead and gone. Big labels are toast. Distributors, well… (who?? ‘nuff said). I gotta say though, that I do miss the record stores. I loved flipping through the vinyl and the cassettes looking for new music. The record store was one of the two types of stores I could ever enjoy browsing as a consumer, the other being a good book store.

In addition to the death of the Record Deal and the disappearance of all that it brought to the table for jazz musicians, touring has come to a standstill. The heart of our artform has some serious cholesterol issues. Gas is above $3 a gallon, as compared to less than a dollar during most of jazz’s history. Jazz clubs can’t afford to stay open, let along pay the band. And sadly, because of the natural passing of time, the jazz greats, who could lead a band that would always draw a crowd, have all but vanished from the scene. Marquee acts are hard to find these days. The Big Label marketing machine has disappeared and the next generation of jazz greats is struggling (along with the rest of the music industry) to get their music noticed in the sea of information called the Internet. What was once a trickle of free music has become a flood.

The current industry path for music is: Home (or cheap) Recording, upload directly to the web, to be downloaded immediately by the consumer. Remember feeling guilty when copying a buddy’s record onto cassette tape? Well that’s NOTHING compared to free downloading. Check this site out, YouTube Mp3. C’mon, most kids don’t even own a stereo.

So with touring at a crawl and record income eradicated by free downloads, how does a performing jazz musician stay afloat? Education. Look closely at the touring musicians’ calendars, an unusually high percentage of appearances are within some sort of academic environment. Clinics, festivals and guest appearances at high schools and universities are some of the most lucrative performance venues these days. And if they are lucky, they may even get an adjunct teaching gig in their hometown. This is not an accident. It is however, a secret. Performers still want to be considered Jazz Musicians, not Jazz Educators. Because of our twisted vision of marketing (which is still based on the old Record Label hierarchy), everyone feels threatened. Since there is still money in jazz education, there is a feeling of envy and resentment towards teachers from players who are struggling. There is also an odd feeling of insecurity from teachers who choose not to perform (for whatever reason) and they feel threatened by the image of the touring professional. When the going gets tough, everyone gets jealous.

It’s time for these negative dis-associations to stop. If you teach you CAN play. If you perform, you ARE qualified to teach. It is NOT one or the other, it’s BOTH.

Perhaps the coveted university gig has indeed become the New Record Deal. Here’s a short (and incomplete) list of performing jazz trumpeters and their respective “labels”:

• Dave Ballou - Towson University
• Scotty Barnhart - Florida State University
• Terence Blanchard - Thelonious Monk Institute, Loyola University
• Cecil Bridgewater - Manhattan School of Music
• Etienne Charles - Michigan State University
• Orbert Davis - University of Illinois at Chicago
• Jon Faddis - Purchase College SUNY
• Brad Goode - University of Colorado at Boulder
• Eddie Henderson - Julliard School
• Sean Jones - Duquesne University
• Brian Lynch - NYU Steinhardt
• Ron Miles - Metropolitan State College of Denver
• Alex Norris - Peabody Institute, Johns Hopkins University
• Tiger Okoshi - Berklee College of Music
• Jason Palmer - Berklee College of Music
• Jim Rotondi - Kunstuniversität Graz
• Terell Stafford - Temple University
• Ray Vega - University of Vermont
• Cuong Vu - University of Washington
• Scott Wendholt - Manhattan School of Music
• Joseph Wilder - Julliard School

Donald Byrd, one of my early heroes on the horn, has taught music at Rutgers University, the Hampton Institute, New York University, Howard University, Queens College, Oberlin College, Cornell University and Delaware State University. (source: Wikipedia)

For every jazz trumpeter with a teaching gig, there are at least 10 who are looking, in hopes of finding a good fit. I know some heavy cats in NYC (and elsewhere) who are actively applying for University jobs. It’s a difficult market. They not only are competing with the multitude of recent jazz school graduates, but they themselves may need to go back to school to pursue a graduate degree, just to satisfy the university’s strict employment policies. This is our current reality.

Of course teaching at a university is much more than getting signed to a record label. Don’t let my analogy here belie my deep commitment to Jazz Education.

Now to finally bring my blog up to date…

Last August (2010) I accepted a Visiting Assistant Professor / Director of Jazz Studies position, at Jacksonville State University in Alabama. This appointment has kept me traveling back and forth between Alabama and New York (and Minnesota). The school’s former Jazz Director and Trumpet Professor, Chip Crotts, built a fantastic Jazz Ensemble program during his tenure here and it’s been an honor to re-establish the program as one of the state’s premier jazz destinations. I am extremely grateful for the opportunity to work with these talented student musicians here at JSU.

The Future

I have just (March 2011) accepted a tenure track position as Director of Jazz Studies back east at Christopher Newport University in Virginia, to begin August 15, 2011. I’m truly very excited to join their esteemed faculty and to develop a program specifically addressing the needs of a modern jazz musician.

A bit of advice to those musicians who are just graduating college and are planning to pursue a career in jazz: if you are hoping to get a college teaching gig to supplement your performance career, you are now competing with top-level professional jazz musicians. Not too long ago, those same musicians weren’t looking for University jobs, they didn’t need to…

The upside of this future reality is the global exportation of jazz musicians. The young jazz musicians of the world are already coming to the United States to study jazz, and our Jazz Artists (performers/teachers) are increasingly relocating to other countries to pursue their modern jazz careers. This trend will not only increase, it will become the United States’ primary artistic export to the world.

Teaching Philosophy

[August 2010] There are two distinct and separate elements needed for successful instruction: Knowledge and Inspiration. The teacher must develop and retain a deep knowledge of the subject matter that far exceeds the student’s current grasp. This is the simple truth upon which all instruction is based. The teacher must also provide inspiration for the student to pursue that knowledge. The old saying, “You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink” may be true, but students are not horses. The inspiration to learn and improve is far more valuable than an encyclopedic vault of facts. There is a false assumption that all university students are highly motivated and somehow self-inspired, this is not the case. It is critical for university professors to lead by example and to inspire students through actions, not just words. This principle is the foundation of my own teaching; I will not ask anything of a student that I myself do not put into action. I am passionate about my chosen path and I wish for my students to find that passion for themselves.

As an active performer, educator, historian, composer and arranger, I understand the fluidity of this art form called jazz. The music is in a constant state of flux, evolving and growing due to new cultural influences and technological innovations. Jazz is alive and well and it is equally important for students to understand its history as well as its potential future. There are more musicians around the world playing jazz today than at any other point in the history of the genre. My role as a teacher is to convey this understanding to my students, and to rouse within them the confidence to value their own contributions to the future of jazz.

Lastly, students must understand the reasons behind any action. In essence, they must ask, “Why?” They must understand beyond mindless parroting of practiced dogma. The essence of students’ further development as musicians and valuable members of our society relies upon their ability to apply the given instruction to their individual paths. Without understanding the philosophical underpinnings of the various methods, there can be no hope for independent and creative thought. This is the reason I teach. I want others to possess the mental tools for self-discovery. I am a people person, social yet thoughtful. I am artistically and theoretically challenged by my students, and seek to inspire them to surpass their wildest dreams through critical thought and dedicated action.

- Dr. Kelly Rossum

Practicing in Airports

[July 2010] I’m just old enough to remember looking forward to flying on an airplane. Back then, businessmen were dressed in suits, meals were complimentary, and children (like myself) received free toys and/or packs of playing cards! Unlike today’s flights where people wear pajamas and flip flops, the tray tables look like the bottom of a cotton candy machine, and the microwave cheeseburgers cost $6.00. As a young musician, I used to think flying was one of the more glamorous aspects of being a pro, something only the successful artists could enjoy. Ahhh, champagne all around. I keep waiting for a flight attendant to say, “Congratulations, you’ve made it! Come sit in first class and enjoy the ride.” Any day now this is going to happen to me, I can tell. It feels like it was years ago when I slept through my first take-off. Surly that must have been some sort of benchmark? Even before that, when I began to order Tonic Water, knowing that you may actually get an entire can instead of a tiny cup, I thought I was a seasoned pro and deserving of some special wink or nod. NOPE. Still sitting in coach, crammed in like a sardine.

Flying is similar in many ways to gambling, but the odds are always stacked against you. When gambling at casinos, you know that on any given night, you may win or lose, but in the long run things tend to stay about even. When you gamble and win, there’s this rush of excitement plus the obvious financial gain, which could range in the thousands of dollars. When you win, it can really feel good which could unfortunately lead to a serious addiction. When you lose, money and time vanish, like they were never there. Air travel is similar, but nowhere near as fun. When you win, the best that you can hope for is to voluntarily skip your oversold flight, receive a $300 travel voucher, board a different airplane, sit in the exit row, have a smooth quiet flight, and only briefly chat with the flight attendants at the end of the flight as you taxi to the gate. Even in this idyllic situation, you’re still sitting in a truly uncomfortable seat, (which was designed for the average person. C’mon, how many of us are exactly the average person? It’s like guaranteeing the seats will be equally uncomfortable for everyone), drinking some seriously lame coffee, and wondering who actually buys that crap in the Skymall magazine. But when things go bad and you lose, watch out. (Take this flight for example, I’m writing on one of my many trips back to NYC and there’s a kid behind me screaming and kicking, a big guy to the left of me finishing some sort of seafood salad sandwich, a woman on my right with too much perfume, the person in front of me must be having nightmares, and we’re still on the ground, sitting in the parking lot they call the Atlanta airport, a good hour and a half after the original departure time, Gotta love it). I’m not going to ramble on too long; everyone has horror stories. I’ve been at Airports with only one gate all the way up to major international hubs. I’ve been on planes ranging from small propeller planes to those big overseas jumbo jets. I’ve been in the air from 40 minutes to 18+ hours… pure torture.

Anyway, one thing that I have come to understand is how to maintain a routine of practicing the trumpet at airports. The key is to play whenever the opportunity arises. I always keep a practice mute in my case, so if there’s a delay, I hit some long tones. Right there at the gate. Sometimes, if I have much longer layover, I head down to an empty gate and actually shed some scales. On the rare occasion that I actually arrive at the airport early, I’ll hang out on the curb and practice. People don’t seem overly concerned with a musician practicing when they’re late for their own flight.

There’s no real secret, playing in the airport is actually really easy. It’s like the Nike ad: Just Do It.

Band Camp

[May 2010] My upstairs neighbors finally convinced me to consider moving to another apartment at the end of our current lease. The 4:00am dumbbell drops just aren’t conducive to a good night’s sleep, and no matter how many times I talk to them, or how many times the super and/or the owners remind them, the noise continues. My only choice is to consider moving, again. Now I look around my apartment with the knowledge of how hard all of this stuff was to move the last time; I need to reduce the load. We’ll probably be moving into an even smaller place hopefully on the TOP floor of a building, so the first thing on my list is to finish archiving that box of old cassettes. (cue flashback music to ‘80s)

Band Camp

This is the time for kids to be out on their own for the first time, no parents. The teachers and dorm assistants are usually pretty cool, at least in the minds of the kids. Did you ever go? It was a grand time; you could eat whatever you wanted for breakfast, drink as many sodas as possible, even pour syrup on your hamburger if you’d like. We’d hang around friends making music all day, no English classes, no boring papers to write and no social studies teacher on your case! Camp was only the best parts of school.

The days are comprised of music classes, theory, instrumental sectionals, rehearsals, listening, and practice time. It is the dream vacation for any serious music geek.

But the best parts of camp are the girls. Whoops, I mean the Social Activities. This is really why kids should attend music camp. Face it, young musicians are rarely the most popular people in the social hierarchy of a high school. At music camp, the playing field is relatively level from a social status perspective. Looking at the larger picture, if you want to succeed in life, even musicians must learn how to relate to their peers, including those of the opposite sex. This is how humans are supposed to make friends, not by pressing a button on your computer! Ugh.

43^rd Annual Wayne State Music Camp

My band camp as a youth was in Nebraska. It was a week long, overnight camp on the campus of Wayne State College. We stayed in the school’s dorms, girls on one end and boys on the other with a lobby/lounge in the middle. We ate in their cafeterias and had classes and performances in their music building.

So this blue cassette tape on my desk is a recording of the 1987 final concert. I was in the top jazz band along with Woody Witt (tenor sax) and Ryan Kisor (trumpet). It was the summer after my junior year in high school. This was actually the third year I had attended the camp as a student. The previous year, my best friend (a Tuba player named Greg Swallow) and I had essentially ruled the camp, or at least we did in our minds. That’s when I picked up an odd habit of saying “Good Morning” as a greeting…

Listening to the tape of the concert, you can hear the burning intensity in Woody’s solo as well as his presence in the sax section. Woody and I both went to high school in Omaha, Nebraska. We would always run into each other at the only jam session in town, down at a place called Kilgore’s. Chuck Kilgore (trumpeter) owned this place with a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling and an old upright in the corner. Each Tuesday night at around 11:00pm jazz musicians would gather there to play. Even at that age, Woody had this intensity to his persona, he already had the heart and mind of a monster musician. I have been extremely lucky to call him my friend though the years.

There was another standout musician on the recording, who the %*^# is that trumpet player?? Ryan. Playing second trumpet, occasionally up an octave. He had just finished his 8^th grade year and was entering high school after that summer. Damn. Since we were both trumpet players, I was able to really grasp how good he was. It was like I was a mere mortal, capable, yes, but I could feel the wind blow by as this super hero of the horn flew past me with his talent. Yet at the same time, I was the senior, so I may have been the only guy at the entire camp to give this little genius some good-natured crap. I had been aware of his skills for a few years, since the first time I heard him play. He was going into 6^th grade (1985 Wayne State summer camp) and his dad, who was a teacher at the camp, had him perform on the faculty concert. He proceeded to nail Arban’s Carnival of Venice, a virtuosic cornet solo. This was my first experience of seeing someone younger than myself in a completely different league; at that age, although he was only a couple of years younger, it seemed like I was a decade older. I still feel that way when I listen to him play. Ryan is the most inspirational jazz trumpet player alive today. Yes, he really is.

Back to the concert. I was playing lead trumpet for that week’s final performance. The last song the director was pointing to the soloists and he skipped over my solo. My heart froze, that was my chance to shine, and it was gone. After the concert I was crushed emotionally because of missing that opportunity to play a solo. But it’s funny how life really works. Later that night, at the dance, all the students elected me “king” of the camp. Now that was a rush. Socially on top of the world, yet knowing I had just been schooled by a freshman. Life Lesson anyone?

If you don’t know the music of Woody Witt and Ryan Kisor, I humbly suggest you check them out.

43^rd Shell Lake Jazz Camp

I am fortunate to still be associated with a band camp these days; it’s the Shell Lake Jazz Camp in Shell Lake Wisconsin. Here’s a small bit of trivia, it is the longest consecutively running jazz camp in the country! Major props to the crew.

Shell Lake is the band camp of legend for today’s students. Full of raucous musical exploration accompanied by mild social anxiety, plus all of the candy and soda from the local small town grocery, truly everything a growing student needs. Joking aside, these camps are crucial to the development of young musicians across the United States. It’s beyond learning about music, it’s about developing as a independent thinker among a society of peers. The collaboration required for a musical performance cuts across all age appropriate social barriers of race, age and sex. If only adults were required to attend music camp for a week each summer, what a world this would be!

Plus, you never know who may be playing next to you at the final concert.

[July 2010] Post Camp note

Shell Lake was a blast again this year, great faculty, great students and beautiful weather! I’m hoping to see everyone back again for next year’s hang.

As the director of one of the ensembles, I realized the best way to order the soloists during the concert was to point at them right before each solo. Yes, you guessed it, I accidentally skipped a student’s solo on the final concert. I made sure to apologize to him immediately afterwards, although he didn’t seem as emotionally damaged as I was. Isn’t it strange how the universe works?!?