Being a teenage musician in a place like Los Angeles has got its perks. I’ve got access to the Hollywood Bowl, the Baked Potato, the Monterey Jazz Festival, and the California Institute of the Arts — not to mention access to thousands of musicians associated with LA-based music organizations. Nevertheless, it’s still exciting to meet those people that you only see in websites and magazines; the faces behind the names that show up on the songs that you play every day.

It was on the last Sunday of January that I met Antoinette Perry, the Senior Lecturer of Keyboard Studies at the University of Southern California, for a master class in a home of a quiet suburbian neighborhood. If you know anything about master classes, you’ll know that they can be absolutely frightening — in front of a large, judging audience the student has to perform a piece, knowing that in the next few minutes an intimidating master class instructor will be hovering over her shoulder, exposing tiny mistakes, insisting on minuscule nuances. It’s not one of the most pleasantly exciting things to do.

But my experience with Antoinette Perry was quite the opposite. To tell you the truth, the first thing I noticed about Perry — before her tall, lanky stature and her youthful smile — were her hands. I was nearly infatuated with them. Her fingers were bony, slender, delicate; they stroked the keys of the piano with the grace of a prima ballerina. I’ve constantly tried to justify playing piano with my short, stubby fingers by pulling up names like Thelonius Monk, insisting to myself that he probably didn’t have Rachmaninoff fingers either and could still play a killer B-flat blues — but Perry flat out dissolved those comforting thoughts. Even she noticed that my elbows aren’t even close to being perpendicular with my hands when I play, leaving me in an awkward angle above the piano keys — a realization that she quickly dismissed by hastily moving on to a different topic. It’s a pretty sensitive subject for a compulsively-obsessive pianist like me.

Still, she had fantastic critiques about my performance of Schubert’s Impromptu No. 2 in E-flat Major — everything from inner melodies that needed more emphasis to small fluctuations in pedaling to help me out with my E-flat major scale runs. And Perry was an exciting instructor — as she had me try out her tips with the Schubert, she’d flail her arms wildly in imaginary conducting, passionately singing along. She was definitely a great window into the music program at USC.

(P.S. I later won a $300 scholarship from the local Music Teacher’s Association of California playing the same piece!)

Just as exciting was a clinic with Don Menza, the composer of one of our currently most challenging pieces: Time Check. (Menza’s also the composer of the popular piece Groovin’ Hard.) “You can only play as good as you can play,” he told us in regards to being nervous before a performance, adding, “I talk about this with Sonny [Rollins] all the time.” He only ever took off his shades when he wanted to emphasize a crucial point — putting air through the horn; playing lines together; hitting the drumset with confidence. While Perry was a window into a prospective college, Menza was a window into the past — a place where jazz was a taboo gateway into violence and drugs and alcohol. It seemed like jazz had this fountain-of-youth effect on Menza — as he spoke, he moved his body energetically, visually showing us what he wanted us to do, throwing around in his speech the colloquialisms of a jazz kid from the sixties.

And then there was his saxophone. Before he arrived, we already knew that he’d written and played with Maynard Ferguson’s orchestra and Buddy Rich’s big band; we knew that he was an amazing tenor sax player. But the word amazing is used everywhere in nearly every circumstance imaginable — it can’t even come close to describe what came out of Menza’s horn.

On a concluding note, here’s what I’m failing in an attempt to describe in words:

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Roustabout/Simple Citizens/Me and Miss Lemona K

A friend recently gave me Jazz Profiles: The Spirit of the Nineties, a book consisting of interviews with some big names from the nineties — people like Wynton & Bradford Marsalis, Cynthia Blackman, and Joshua Redman. While the book did leave me inspired to check out a few albums (like Oscar and Benny from the Benny Green interview) and left me with a few good tips for young musicians like me, it also left me with a burning question: why did it take me such a long time  to meet jazz?

In the interviews, Nicholas Payton says that he “grew up at [his] father’s rehearsals listening to some of the greatest jazz musicians in New Orleans.” Geri Allen heard the music “as a little kid, as a little toddler, and maybe even pre-birth” since her father was a big fan of jazz. Benny Green recalls hearing his father on the tenor sax and being “exposed to his jazz-record collection.” Craig Handy began the tenor sax at the age of twelve when he heard Dexter Gordon on the radio.

So why is it that these great jazz musicians met jazz so early, but jazz didn’t hit me until high school? It’s not that my interest in music in general was triggered at the same time — I started taking lessons before I even started kindergarten; I played the flute later in elementary school, where it was retired by the end of the sixth grade. Perhaps it was because I enjoyed the solitary nature of the piano more than its actual music at the time — I enjoyed playing it by myself, and only by myself. But that was classical music. In my sixth-grade brain, jazz didn’t exist.

As for concerts, I played in them. Outside of a few orchestral concerts I attended when my sister was playing the violin, I did not get exposed to much live music. I did get a chance to see violinist Midori Goto and pianist Robert McDonald at the Walt Disney Concert Hall when I was twelve, but the only memory I have of that concert is waking up from the comfy seats of the theater to the bright lights and applause at the end of the concert, watching Goto take her final bow. As for live jazz? The closest thing I came to a live jazz performance was a music education performance by the Alley Cats, a doo-wop singing group. I left my fifth-grade class for their hour-long performance in the middle of the day; they were initially a few awkward men in bowling shirts — but the moment they began singing, I was immediately fascinated. And then they disappeared. For the rest of the week I tried finding out what it was that I had heard that day, but I had no luck. I gave up and moved on.

Somehow for almost ten years a jazz tune wasn’t on long enough for me to catch the bug; no one tapped me on the shoulder and said, “hey, you know that song you just skipped over? It was completely improvised.” What I’m trying to say is that I’m frustrated. I get frustrated when I read articles about how young people don’t listen to jazz anymore — as an elementary or junior high school student, how on earth was I supposed to find it on my own?

This realization began gnawing at me the moment I was accepted into the upper jazz band at West Ranch High School — I was playing piano for my junior high culmination ceremony and I got a tap on the shoulder from the junior high band director. I’d never spoken to him before. He only had one question for me: “Where were you?” He’d been managing a jazz band at the junior high, but the first time I’d ever heard about it was on the last day I would ever be attending the school. It was as if that jazz band was some secret that only the select few could know about — it was hidden from everyone but the band kids under the cover of football and spirit days and  honors classes at the junior high. Even later, I discovered that the neighbor that I’d been living next door to for eight years was a jazz fanatic — halfway into my sophomore year of high school.

Jazz isn’t supposed to be a secret. It’s intended to be shared — even my jazz teacher sometimes tells me that improvising is a compilation of everything you’ve ever heard. That’s why I smile when I hear about people like Jason Parker combating the whole “jazz is dead” notion by sharing their music with young people like me who didn’t have immediate access to it. Whether you’re a jazz musician, a jazz instructor, or just someone who’s got a penchant for jazz, please don’t give up on us. Please don’t conclude that we’re uninterested; please don’t assume that we’ll think jazz is boring. Granted, it’s probably a better idea to hand us Kind of Blue before you give us Vijay Iyer (even KKJZ’s Leroy Downs told me with a chuckle that “the world’s not ready for Vijay”). But by handing a kid a jazz record or taking him to a jazz show, you’re giving him a chance to discover something he never knew existed. He might not like it, and he might love it. Believe me, coming from my experience with jazz as that teenager who’s supposedly not listening to it anymore — it’s more than worth a shot.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Ultra Light/Fourplay/Energy

I was just finishing a post about my experience so far with the combo that I’m currently in, but I’m going to be telling you about my day instead. You see, I had an audition this morning with the SCSBOA honor jazz band program. I’ve done auditions before, but only classical ones — auditions with stiff-necked judges and staring audiences and billowy black dresses. But today I exchanged that dress for a pair of black slacks — if that really symbolically means anything at all — and walked into an audition with a whole different atmosphere — an atmosphere with muffled Aebersold recordings emanating from the audition rooms; predominantly male; brassy instruments. And for some reason, it was a lot warmer, too. I’d never noticed how cold the buildings of my classical auditions were. It was warm in the sense of comfort — it was bubbly, swingy, devoid of threatening glares.

But I’m going to tell you right now that I did not make it. When I looked up from the keys to play the next etude during this audition, I was able to catch a glimpse of the judge’s face. It was blank; there was no epiphanic light in his eyes — it almost seemed as if the awkward movements of my short, stubby fingers were far more interesting than what I was actually playing. I’m familiar with the small idiosyncrasies of a musical judge — if I can see that he’s retired his pen to the corner of his desk and he’s leaned backwards, closing his eyes, then I know that he’s listening to the music. Thumbs up (unless, of course, he’s sleeping). On the other hand, if he’s avoiding eye contact and focusing on the curly scribbles of his writing, then it’s a no-go. Two thumbs down. Of course, there’s always exceptions (like a time when I walked into an audition with two very, very Russian piano judges whose main critique was that I moved too much when I played), but there’s always small patterns like these that pop up at nearly every audition I go through.

There’s a lot of feelings that come with not making it. The hurt claws at me; it gnaws at my insides; I try to rationalize it — maybe I forgot to play something; maybe I didn’t prepare enough. I can’t look at my piano without wincing. I hide all that audition music under the songs that I love to play. I make two lists. One list details my achievements, and the other details all the stupid things I’ve ever done. It’s the same process every time — the achievement list has things like my first piano concerto with an orchestra, my Louis Armstrong jazz award; the stupid list include all the auditions I forgot to practice for, that one chemistry lab that I set on fire and had to redo twice, the friends I lost when I joined the marching band, and finally, this audition I didn’t make. And every time, the stupid list is about three times longer than the achievement one.

But then I remember that this isn’t the first audition that didn’t go well. Actually, it’s probably one of very many auditions that will not go well. And I’m probably not the only one who’s staring at my instrument and wondering, “Why on earth did I do this to myself?”

I remember that I’m doing this to myself because I love my keys; I love the way it tingles under my fingertips at the touch of a dissonant chord; I love to spoil it with Chopin and Cole Porter and Schumann and Scott Joplin. Billy Joel knows it too –

I’ve come far
From the life I’ve strayed in
I’ve got scars
From those dives I’ve played in
Now I’m home
And I’m weary
In my bones
Every dreary one night stand
But my baby grand
Is coming home with me

Ever since this gig began
My baby grand’s
Been good to me

(Baby Grand/Billy Joel)

I’ve found that after things like this happen, my best releases lie in both music and in words. These words are usually written down on a loose sheet of paper, outlined several times with several different pens, and then crumbled and tossed into the trash bin. But I hope that as I share these words with you, you’ll find some release in them, too.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Baby Grand/Billy Joel & Ray Charles/The Essential Billy Joel

P.S. Please contribute to the Haiti Recovery Fund by visiting the Red Cross Website.

Now that winter break’s on its last legs, it’s time to look forward to a fresh new semester and a fresh new year. Here are some of my resolutions for 2010:

1. Read.

After setting down The Great Gatsby today, I realized that I haven’t picked up many jazz biographies since I started getting involved with jazz in my freshman year. Luckily, the same neighbor who’s been feeding me jazz albums every time I visit also let me borrow his copy of Bill Evans: How My Heart Sings — a biography written by Peter Pettinger chronicling the ups and downs of Bill Evans’ life and career.

I have to admit that I’m a tad bit reluctant to read it. Granted, learning more about Bill Evans won’t change how fantastic his music is — but I remember when I first watched Ray, a film detailing the life of jazz musician Ray Charles, I couldn’t listen to anything by Ray Charles for weeks. Yes, it’s a commonly accepted fact that movies like these often stretch the truth, but it didn’t really matter — my romanticized Ray Charles was gone forever. On the other hand, I don’t really have a romanticized Bill Evans — every time my neighbor hands me anything by Bill Evans it’s always accompanied by a somber expression and a “Man, this guy had a tough life.”

And of course, the book I’ve been itching to read: Cicily Janus’ The New Face of Jazz. I don’t know whether this excitement stems from the fact that Gordon Goodwin’s going to appear in it or the fact that I’ve been following Cicily Janus on Twitter since I first started The Jazz Post (there’s something strange about Twitter that makes jazz folks seem more accessible/three-dimensional, haha). It’s not going to be available until July 13th, but it’s available for pre-ordering here.

2. Listen.

I constantly tell myself that I don’t take advantage of the opportunities I have to listen to great jazz around here in Los Angeles — I do live right next to CalArts, which always hosts free/almost-free concerts. The only one of these I attended involved electric instruments and speakers pointed at each other to produce a painfully awesome “feedback” sound — needless to say, I was left deprived of my sense of hearing for several days. (Maybe this is why I haven’t gone back for a while.)

Anyhow, I did get a chance to listen to some life jazz a week or so ago while I was up in San Francisco at the Les Joulins Jazz Bistro. It was one of those great moments where I was looking around for a place to eat and I heard the lovely sounds of a jazz quartet emanating from this restaurant — it’s one of the nicest things to stumble upon.

That night we listened to the Charles Unger Quartet — their Latvian pianist (Eugene Pliner) even gave me some tips during their break.

3. Get Involved/Branch Out…Play!

Outside from the CAP program and my high school jazz band, I haven’t reached out to many other jazz programs. But I’ve already started to look for more — this coming January 17th I’ll be auditioning for the All-Southern California Jazz Band. Wish me luck!

Also, the composition class I took through the CAP program helped me out with the music theory aspect of jazz improvisation — although I can’t say for sure that improvisation makes complete sense to me yet, it’s definitely a lot less confusing. And I even got a bit of a piece done in the class. Here’s that piece — along with the CAP jazz class performance. As I’m sure you can tell, they’re both fantastic classes.

I’m also looking forward to telling you about our combo program at West Ranch High School very soon. :)

Have a fabulous new year!

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Galang (Trio Riot Version)/Vijay Iyer Trio/Historicity

Being involved in many music programs as a high school student has its perks, but sometimes I find myself diving head first into weekends like these:

1. Saturday, 7:30 am: The SAT.

There’s nothing much to say about this one except for the fact that it pretty much rendered me useless for the rest of the day.

2. Saturday, 2-4 pm: CAP @ CalArts

I’ll elaborate further on my experience with this program next week, when we’ll be having our last class. But in a nutshell, I’m taking two classes out of the ten or so offered: Theory II/Composition and Jazz Ensemble. I took the composition class in hopes that it would help me with improvisation — but I’ve learned so much more than just that. I’d tried composing before, but this is the first time I’ve actually successfully started and finished a piece — I wrote it based on some of the ii-V7-I chords  in the Alice in Wonderland performed by Bill Evans (it’s my all-time favorite jazz ballad). On the other hand, I’ve taken this Jazz Ensemble class for about a year and a half with several different teachers (including Jon Armstrong) — this year, it’s James Lewis and Tina Raymond.

Currently we’re rehearsing Lady Bird, Alice in Wonderland, and a B-flat blues piece we wrote as a class. But sometimes James takes the liberty of sitting us down and teaching us “life lessons;” he’ll give us a short speech about how to be better musicians and better people in general — it’s often a humorously serious experience. This week it was about the importance of humility — in James’s opinion, one of the most important requirements of being a musician is having a sense of humility: “there’s no ‘there’ in music,” he says, “you’re never ‘there’…never think more of yourself than that.”

3. Saturday, 6:30 pm: SCVYO Concert @ COC Performing Arts Center

I’ve been involved with the SCVYO program for a little less than three years — I’m a firm believer in keeping a balance between jazz and classical (especially when I listen to someone like Hiromi Uehara). I got to play along with the orchestra in a Corelli double concerto. There’s definitely something comforting about having all the notes in front of you after being in front of play-what-sounds-right chord changes every morning. And there’s this sense of security in the fact that each orchestra part is like a cell of a living, breathing organism — each part isn’t much without the other.

4. Sunday, 9:30 am: West Ranch HS Jazz Band Concert @ Westfield Valencia Mall

That picture at the beginning of this post? Yup, I’m standing right next to Jeff Babko — he’s my jazz band director’s (Robert Babko) son. Hopefully my standing next to him allowed some of his amazing piano skills to rub off on me; I’m really depending on it. :)

Remember that combo I was talking about earlier? We finally got to perform for the first time — given that we only had one rehearsal to get Santa Claus is Coming to Town together, I think we did a pretty great job. The combo includes me on piano, Omer Benyamin on the tenor sax, Josef Staley on trombone, Diego Kiner on drums, and Brandon Canada on bass. (Watch it below! My solo starts 1:30.)

As always, thanks to Mr. Babko and everyone in the jazz band — they’re all the reason that I love jazz this much.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Give Me The Proof/Tower of Power/Urban Renewal

I recently sent in a self-recording for an All-California Jazz Band audition (check it out at CBDA.org) — it was the first time I’d ever done a recording for anything to do with jazz. Like any good musician, I waited until the weekend before the audition tapes were due to begin recording — because recording three short pieces is no biggie, right?

After nearly fourteen repetitions of the audition requirement’s “Samba” piece, I finally think I’ve got it. I turn around to press the stop button on the recorder and…yup, it’s out of battery.

And then when I finally get (what I think is) a good take of “Samba,” I go to listen to it on my computer. But there’s someone running the tap water in the background.

Yes, I was completely proven wrong. Recording these pieces took a good entire afternoon-plus-most-of-the-night — and after an examination from my jazz director — another frustrating evening with the piano and the recorder. I think the biggest thing I learned was the painful difference between a CD audition and a live audition — in a live audition, it’s a lot more holistic; the judge can physically see you in person, watch you move, watch you play; a couple mistakes here and there can be made up for by some (hopefully) fantastic improvisation later in the audition. But while you’re recording, not only are you haunted by the image of a few completely disgusted judges listening to your feedback-y CD, you realize that every time you see that red recording button light up, your fingers turn to mush. (I tried hiding the recorder; it didn’t help too much.)

I did end up finishing the CD after countless hours of this — next time, I’m definitely doing it much earlier. This coming February I’ll be auditioning for the All-Southern-California Jazz band, which’ll be a live audition in Westlake; wish me luck!

Speaking of which, have you guys ever practiced with Aebersolds? I never really used them until I started working with the CalArts CAP program this year — one of my instructors, drummer Tina Raymond, seems to have collected nearly all of his albums; thanks to her, I’ve got a lot more access to his books. They’re definitely just as frustrating as recording a CD — when you’re playing with this pre-recorded rhythm section, you’ve got no wiggle room, no chance to slow down or speed up, and very little room to make even small mistakes — initially, the chords seem to rapidly fly by. But hey, it’s a good thing — after you get a feel of a B-flat Blues or a Lady Bird rhythm track, it really helps you out in regards to keeping time and developing your ideas in a restricted amount of time. So when it comes to actually playing with a live rhythm section, you’ve got a way better understanding of the chord changes — it’s helped me get over the fear of hearing the chord changes fly by unacknowledged, putting my focus on developing a melodic solo instead.

Plus, the Aebersold books have really sweet vintage-y looking covers.

Anyways, one of the SCSBOA Honor Jazz band requirements is to be able to play along with the standard, “What Is This Thing Called Love?” (from the book pictured here).  Since I’m not too familiar with it, I’ve been collecting several recordings of it so I can get to know it a little better. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

1. What Is This Thing Called Love/Art Pepper/Modern Art: The Complete Art Pepper Recordings V2
2. What Is This Thing Called Love/Keith Jarrett, Gary Peacock, Jack DeJohnette/Whisper Not (Live in Paris 1999)
3. What Is This Thing Called Love/Wynton Marsalis/Standard Time, V2 — Intimacy Calling

I found this when I was buying a track from the Whisper Not album — did you know Jarrett had a ‘fro back in the day?

This is totally different from my current mental picture of him. (On a side note, don’t you just love it when he hums along with his solos in every recording he releases? I do.):

So since I’ve only got a list of three What Is This Thing Called Love, what recordings of this standard do you recommend? Let me know in the comments or @thejazzpost. I’ll see if I can find anything in the January Downbeat I just got today in jazz class. :)

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Yesterdays/Act Your Age/Gordon Goodwin’s Big Phat Band

For Gordon Goodwin, it was probably just another solo. But for me, I couldn’t fully grasp it — I was sitting on the same bench as him, watching him improvise on the keys of the old upright Yamaha that I play every morning. I was balancing myself on the edge of the bench so I wouldn’t get in his way (Goodwin seems to like the upper register on the piano) — but at the same time, I was leaning in as close as I possibly could, hoping some of his musicality would rub off on me.

Great jazz piano solos are things that I only see on stage and hear in recordings. So being able to sit right next to a legend play the solo that I’d been working on for ages — let alone have him help me with it — was absolutely insane.

Another reason to be grateful for living in Los Angeles: we had a song written for us by Gordon Goodwin (commissioned by our principal, Bob Vincent — isn’t it fantastic to have a music major for a principal?) entitled Principal of the Thing. Since my jazz director, Bob Babko, knows Goodwin, we had a chance to work with him for about an hour and a half on playing his composition. (Even though we’re definitely not the Phat Band, it still secretly kind of felt like we were.)

Some of Goodwin’s advice:

1. Empty space in a solo is just as important as playing a melody.
2. Other ideas for soloing: blues, chromatic, holding notes, playing a melody, and of course, leaving space.
3. You’ll get a better understanding of harmony if you figure it out on the piano.
4. Don’t bring your personal issues into your playing — you can’t afford to think about extraneous things when you play.
5. There’s always a few places in a composition that show the full maturity of the band — bring those places out.
6. Be proud of being a band geek. :)

There were so many other great tips Goodwin gave us, but I’m still trying to get over the fact that I was sitting on the same piano bench as he was improvising. It’s incredible, isn’t it?

Principal of the Thing will most likely be part of the CD our band makes in our first professional recording session in the spring — I’m definitely looking forward to sharing it with you soon.

Check out Gordon Goodwin and the Big Phat Band at www.bigphatband.com.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Alice in Wonderland/Bill Evans/Sunday at the Village Vanguard

This past Sunday I got a chance to visit the Performing and Visual Arts College Fair sponsored by NACAC at the Ackerman Union at UCLA. I’ve been to college fairs before, but this one was focused around schools that offered exceptional arts programs — everything from hardcore conservatories like New England Conservatory and Juilliard to liberal arts schools like UCLA and USC. There were even a few schools out of the country like the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama (RSAMD) in Glasgow, Scotland.

It was definitely a much better experience than my last college fair back at the Andover Phillips Academy in Boston, MA — I remember when I asked the Syracuse representative about their music program, he stared back at me in confusion and responded with, “um, do you like hockey?”

I’ve never seen a ballroom this crowded before, either:

But the most interesting thing was the variety of definitions these schools gave for the “well-rounded” musician.

Schools like NEC saw it as being  a well-practiced and experienced musician — knowing your music theory well isn’t a huge criteria in the admissions process. Loyola University New Orleans and RSAMD, on the other hand, think music theory is super important — Loyola even requires a theory test with your audition. The representative there also emphasized the importance of knowing how to survive in the real world — for her, music’s more than just playing; it’s also got a business aspect that some people forget about. (In fact, if I remember correctly, she’s a business manager for the LA Phil and sings with the LA Opera.)

And then we get to CalArts, who thinks that being a well-rounded musician means that as well as doing hours of practice and knowing your theory well, it’s also knowing how to intelligently critique the music you hear. In other words, it’s knowing how to write well.

So far, a well-rounded musician equals hours of practice + knowing your theory + surviving in the real world + being able to write well. (Do you have anything to add to the list? Tell me in the comments below.)

To close it off, here are the colleges at the fair that really caught my attention. Although I’ve got a bit more time to decide, I’m pretty much geared towards a double major — Jazz Studies/English.

1. UCLA

2. Loyola New Orleans

3. CalArts (even though I’ve been around it for ages, the whole well-rounded-writer thing was something I’ve never really heard expressed from an arts school before.)

Schools I enjoyed talking with (but not looking to attend):

1. Interlochen Center for the Arts (I had a great time talking with admissions ambassador David Neubauer — he told me about his band in LA that I’m hoping I can see sometime soon. And after some research, I’ve found out that he’s a magician — what a story.)

2. Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama (in Glasgow, Scotland. I got to talk to the dean of music who told me about one of the UK’s great jazz guys, saxophonist Tommy Smith. Their jazz program’s only a year old, but it was so exciting talking to someone so excited about jazz. Sadly, Glasgow might be a bit too far for me.)

And the not-so-great:

1. Berklee (I was completely disappointed. They have a reknowned jazz program, with people like Esperanza Spalding and Hiromi Uehara coming out of it. But their table was bare — no pamphlets, nothing! They only had one representative that knew nothing about the jazz program or even the area of the school in general. Come on, Berklee.)

2. Rice (Great jazz band; no jazz program. Really?)

Be sure to tell me your definition of a well-rounded musician in the comments below.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Lady Bird/Art Blakey/At the Cafe Bohemia

When you think music, what do you think of? You might think of the LA Phil — I’m probably thinking about the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra. The point is, music is huge — and although I might pick favorites, I’m not about to miss out on any of it. That’s why I went to West Ranch High School’s first home marching band competition. (I was part of the marching band’s pit last year, too, so I’ve got a bit of an attachment to it as well.)

A bit about this year’s show — it’s called Triumph and Tragedy, supposedly reflecting the story of the Titanic. (note the flowy Rose-channeling dresses and giant Titanic-esque smokestacks in the background) I’ll be posting the show as soon as it’s up on good old Youtube. For now, here’s the show from last year, Bermuda Triangle. (On a side note, I really miss playing the marimba after watching this.)

Marching band’s a unique thing — it’s not an ensemble and it’s not a sport; it’s both. And despite how much I’ve learned from jazz band about communication and working together, it’s really hard to compare it to how much I learned about teamwork from my experience in marching band. It probably lies in the fact that even though every musician in the marching band has their own individual part and choreography, it doesn’t mean much until it’s done altogether at the same time. When there’s over a hundred people on the field doing this like the West Ranch marching band, it’s pretty incredible. It takes hours and hours of hard work from students and staff and band directors to get this pulled together this well — kudos to the West Ranch High School Marching Band guys!

It’s pretty difficult to describe how much I admire these kids, so here’s some photos to show you instead :):

This totally captures the challenge of multitasking in the pit (otherwise, the front percussion ensemble):

And I’m also super proud of the sister (center, look of crazy joy on face) — I’ve never seen her smile this much in my life. Hooray for friendship and bonding!

I’m definitely looking forward to next year’s competition — keep up the great work, West Ranch!

(For more information about the West Ranch Marching Band, visit www.westranchmusic.com)

This weekend I’m going out to UCLA to check out the 2009 Performing and Visual Arts College Fair. Berklee, Juilliard, the Manhattan School of Music, and the New England Conservatory of Music will be there as well as many other great colleges with fantastic art programs. To see the full list, go here.

If you want to join me, here’s all the information.

If not, be sure to look out for my next post about my experience there.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Teen Town/Weather Report/Heavy Weather

If you’ve been directed here from the program distributed at West Ranch High School’s inaugural Wildcat Classic marching show, welcome to the Jazz Post. For more information, check out the ABOUT page.

Pictures from the event will be up on Thursday — wish me luck on the PSAT!