Reflections on my time as a musician in the United States Air Force

I enlisted on May 25th, 2000. That evening, I found myself in basic military training, and at the beginning of an 11 ½ year adventure as a military musician.

A few months prior, I had won an audition with the USAF Band of the Golden West and was guaranteed a position as a percussionist upon completion of basic training. There are names, faces, and memories you never forget during the indoctrination into the armed forces, and they are just as vivid today as they were in 2000. One such memory was of Sgt. Johnson determining leadership of the drum section of the trainee drum and bugle corps by asking Matt Thomas and I to name our favorite drummer.*

Once out of basic training, I settled into life in California and time was measured by tours rather than semesters. My playing responsibilities were with the concert band, ceremonial band, percussion ensemble, and salsa band, and my “extra duty” consisted of booking tours and acting as a media representative for the band.

After five and a half years of performing, touring, and watching the military around me mobilize for war, it was time for a change. I broke my second enlistment, moved to Colorado to teach at Adams State, and began a six year stint with the Air National Guard Band of the Gulf Coast. During this “part-time” military portion of my journey, I performed regularly with other Air Force bands and deployed with a rock band in support of Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom. These experiences traveling and performing throughout war zones will never be forgotten.

So on this day, December 22, 2011, my last day as a member of the military, I have a few reflections to share.

1. In my family, there is a lineage of military service. The fact I went straight to college was no big deal for my parents, but I’ve always had the desire to continue the tradition. Serving as an Air Force musician after graduate school fit the bill. As a member of the military, to include musicians, means making sacrifices. As you assimilate into a new culture, service becomes your life. Yes, in many cases you lose free will, but you are afforded countless opportunities for personal and professional growth.

2. Some of the best musicians I’ve ever worked with were in the Air Force. Talented, diverse, and by the nature of the job, humble. This includes my experiences in the Air National Guard. Civilian experience in the music industry is invaluable to the military band career field. Many of my colleagues, active duty and guard, are great musicians, leaders, and mentors.

3. This path was an outstanding way to launch a career straight out of college. Housing and healthcare for Tracy and I, great instruments to play, numerous musicians with whom to collaborate, and opportunities to perform a plethora of repertoire in a variety of settings for hundreds of thousands of people are hard to come by. In retrospect, it was easy to take these things for granted.

4. Coexisting with 59 eccentric individuals in a daily work environment where you make music together, travel extensively together, socialize together, all within a rank structure, is guaranteed to develop serious people skills.

5. Military bureaucracy (and health care) is pretty much the same as in the civilian world, including the politics. Some things are better and some are worse, but it’s all pretty much the same, just different clothing and haircuts.

6. Sometimes the best audiences were the hardest to reach. Be it the middle of the Mojave desert or the Iraqi desert, the Oregon coast or the African coast, there are wonderful audiences appreciative of live music. I always enjoyed the gorgeous concert halls and upscale hotels, but the remote concerts hold the greatest memories.

7. Without question, I garnered a wider world perspective as a result of the people I met and the places I performed. Four continents and numerous countries meant performances in the wealthiest and poorest locations imaginable. From dignitaries, movie stars, and professional athletes to average taxpayers, African villagers, and wounded service members, interactions varied drastically. These experiences shaped my career, musicianship, citizenship, opinions on domestic and foreign policy, and purview as an educator.

And here are a few random thoughts about my time in the Air Force:

1. Being “required” to exercise as part of my day was kind of awesome.
2. I’d rather fly in a C-130 over Afghanistan than on a domestic American Airlines flight.
3. I’m not looking forward to paying for sticks and mallets after today.
4. The uniform thing was great. On most days, I essentially wore the equivalent of pajamas with boots and never had to plan my wardrobe.
5. Not everyone in the military is a right-wing conservative.
6. I’ll miss the TSA agent thanking me for my service.
7. I won’t miss the endless computer-based training.
8. In the grand scheme of things, the military bands budget is a drop in the bucket.
9. Despite #8, I hope the career field can evolve to be more efficient, effective, and relevant.
10. I don’t have to “work” on the 4th of July next year!

Thank you for supporting the past several years of my life with your tax dollars and have a safe and Happy Holiday!

*The training instructor looked a bit like Kevin Eubanks, Jay Leno’s former band leader/guitarist. In my sleep-deprived state, my answer was Marvin “Smitty” Smith, Leno’s drummer. Matt responded with Gene Krupa. Needless to say, I was stuck being in charge of the drums and Matt was forever known as “Krupa.”


Photos from top to bottom: 1. Drumming in Iraq 2. My Grandfather in Europe during World War II 3. Playing for villagers in the Horn of Africa

Ten Gift ideas for the Percussionist in Your Life

My intention was to post this list early enough for the holidays, but trust me, the percussionist in your life will be happy to wait. Here are a few gift ideas (prices may vary) for the percussionist who has everything:


1. Vic Firth Live Wires brushes. These brushes add a whole new compliment of sound to the palette while retaining the fundamental sound of brushes. Great for use in the big band, slightly louder acoustic settings, and the recording studio.

2. The Boss DB-90 "Dr. Beat" metronome. If the price tag is too much, consider one of their other lines. Sure, you can download metronome apps to your iPad or iPhone, but unless your self control is outstanding, a stand alone metronome prevents the temptation of checking your messages each time you change the tempo.

3. A Black Swamp Sound Art tambourine. The synthetic head is a life saver in varied climates and as a vegetarian, I appreciate saving baby cows by not using calf skin. Alright, off the veggie soapbox- these tambourines sound phenomenal, feel great, and are made by an outstanding company.

4. A Cooperman frame drum. These hand-crafted drums sound great, feel wonderful, and are built by a terrific family in Vermont. Last time I visited their factory in Bellows Falls, I truly felt as though I stepped into Santa's workshop.

5. A Vic Virth Stick Bag. I own three of these, one of which survived a trip throughout the middle east in mid-summer. Ample space for sticks and mallets, pockets for supplies, metronome, and mini-practice pad, and a durable and attractive design.

6. A high quality practice pad. I grew up on the Drum Headquarters "Real Feel" pads, but there are plenty of other outstanding pads available. Why not buy a double-sided pad?

7. The Tommy Igoe "Groove Essentials" books. These two books will give you so much mileage, it's ridiculous. Great play alongs, posters and DVD's for reference, and just about every style you will encounter.

8. Speaking of books, Stick Control is the standard. If your percussionist doesn't already have this book, buy them two so they get caught up!

9. Instant Downloads from Hudson Music. Watching your favorite drummer is always educational, but more importantly, inspiring. With the instant downloads, your gift will fit under the tree and be here in time for the holidays.

10. A Zoom hand-held recorder. The price on a high quality digital recorder, be it audio or video, has dropped significantly. The applications are endless. And if it gets here in time, the video camera can double as a holiday gift for the whole family!

Happy Holidays!!

Skills You May Want to Have. Part I. Event Planner

When asking graduate students what they want to do, the answer is often "teach at the collegiate level." In fact, I blogged about this in a previous post.

Higher education is a delightful career. The opportunity to mentor students in their final years before entering the "real world" is a powerful position and one not taken lightly.
As graduate students, we learn the ins and outs of performance and pedagogy, observe our teachers, and get inspired to do what they do. But there is much more to consider.

(As a side note... your first gig probably won't be like your graduate school).

Important Consideration Number One:

The job-set skills needed to succeed greatly exceed the ability to give great faculty recitals, well-programmed ensemble concerts, and stellar private lessons.

I plan to address several of these "other duties as assigned" skills in subsequent blogs. Let's start with number one: Event Planner.

Example:

This week, in addition to teaching classes and lessons, I will:

1. Direct three different dress rehearsals.

2. Present my percussion ensemble and steel bands concert.

3. Host a jazz festival with several high school bands, trumpet legend Bobby Shew, pianist Chuck Lamb, PROJECT Trio with beatboxing flutist, Greg Pattillo, members of the USAF Academy Band Falconaires, jazz vocalist Theano Lamb, and in addition to performances by my big band and combos, host a regional big band.

4. Perform and have students perform for our department's community holiday collage concert.

Project management. Event planning. Call it what you will. This is a very important aspect of my job with far reaching implications.

Integral to the above events, the following needed to happen:

1. Countless emails, phone calls, texts, and face to face meetings.

2. Budgets and schedules negotiated. Contracts created and artist fees negotiated.

3. Industry partners acquired.

4. Personal and professional relationships strengthened and finessed.

5. For profit and non-profit organizations brought on board.

6. Advertising campaigns launched and managed (print, radio, internet, etc).

7. Paperwork pushed through several different campus offices.

8. Scheduling. More scheduling. Rescheduling.

9. Forms created from scratch, work-study students supervised (no graduate assistants), and student volunteers coordinated.

10. Oh, and rehearsals.

If hosting a dinner party stresses you out, I'd suggest getting some experience. But where?

As a member of the USAF Band of the Golden West, not only did I play percussion, but I served as a tour manager; a job I credit with making project management a familiar task. I was fortunate to gain these experiences directly out of graduate school.

Here are a few suggestions:

1. Book your solo act or chamber group for a multi-day tour.

2. Serve on the board/volunteer for a live music association/music festival and learn the ropes.

3. Plan and implement a local "Day of Percussion/Clarinet/Accordion/Zither."

4. Observe the events you attend and decide what works and what doesn't. Talk to the event planner and ask for any flow charts, check lists, and to-do lists they are willing to share. You can always email me!

Event Planner. Get the experience now and avoid mistakes later.

Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

Thanksgiving. Thank you.

Here's what I'm thankful for:

-A day with such a wonderful name and positive feelings. A reason to stop and reflect.
-Wonderful family and friends, near and far.
-A rewarding life of enriching work in the arts... music and teaching. Giving.

Every day, I'm reminded how fortunate I am for this career, this life. There are many highs and the occasional lows, but a day doesn't pass where I miss the chance to practice my art.

There are trade offs. In higher ed, you move to where the jobs are, and that usually means greater distance from family. Upside- you are afforded the opportunity to create a large community of friends and family, and the long holiday breaks aren't so bad, either.

As musicians, you are beholden to when and where the work is, and that often means distance and busy times during the holidays. Upside- you are given an opportunity to share your art, change someone's world for a time, and have a positive effect on a group psyche. Powerful.

On this day and every day, I am thankful for all of those in my life, past and present, who in one way or another, led me to where I am today.


Thank you.

"Get More Done"

Lately, I've been adding "tips to get more done" as my Facebook status. It's not that I'm particularly efficient or an expert in productivity. What I am is a percussionist and educator who likes to stay busy. As a result, I've collected concepts that work for me and posting these ideas helps keep accountability to myself.

As musicians, we generally carry around a feeling of unfinished business- there's always more to practice. More to learn. Coming to terms with these feelings in an ever-busy world can be the ultimate challenge and an indicator of success or failure.

For the time being, my blog will elaborate on these "Tips to Get More Done."

To follow my daily tips, friend me on Facebook.

1. Walk faster: Well, this isn't exactly fair nor applicable to all, but through casual observation, mopers tend to produce less. Move a little... it's good for you.

2. Close Facebook: Ironic being I am using it as my platform. Like any tool, it can be too much and can become an endless time suck. I challenge you to keep track of your Facebook usage for one day.

3. Enough already. Stop talking and start doing: You've heard the phrase, "death by committee." Talking is easy. Doing is the hard part.

4. Do one thing at a time: Trying to do otherwise is overwhelming. This, too, is ironic being percussionists are known for doing more than one thing at a time. However, we are never really doing things independently, but interdependently.

5. Set tangible deadlines: As in, I will get my inbox cleaned out before the continents revert back to Pangaea. Seriously... work expands to fill the time allotted. Give yourself a realistic deadline and do what you need to do.

6. If you're going to bother doing it, do it right the first time: Think about how you approach practicing. When you get in the practice room, do you learn systematically, relating what you're doing to time (a metronome), working out things correctly? Or do you mess around, hoping you magically absorb the music? Doing it right the first time prevents a pile of mental interference.

7. Stop making excuses. Woman up. Or man up. Take your pick. No one likes a whiner: What more can be said about this one?

This is a week's worth of tips. What are your best tips for getting things done?

Thanks for reading.

Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

Changing Roles

Think about how you fit into a working group. Are you the best? Strongest? Smartest? Weakest? Somewhere in between?


Consider the changing roles one experiences as a member of an ensemble.

An inexperienced musician may have the self awareness as to where he or she is on the spectrum of ability level compared to the other members. And then again, he or she may not have the self awareness. Either way, it's my job to clarify this awareness and move the student along the spectrum while continuing to challenge those more advanced.

As the musician matures, he or she discovers a new feeling of knowledge, sometimes accompanied by impatience towards others. It's also my job to foster both patience, empathy, and student leadership. "How to" is another matter.

Group dynamic is the untold linchpin of any group, regardless of overall talent. Developing group dynamic is an art. Like all art, it constantly evolves, requires practice, and is a never-ending pursuit.

This photo displays a possible outcome...

How do you foster role changes in your groups? How do you manage role changes in your life?

Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

Collaborate... what does the taste of pineapple sound like?

How do you collaborate in your work? Does it inspire you? Scare you to lose control? Energize a project that may have become mundane?

Take a moment and consider how you can add variety and interest to your next concert, meeting, or grant initiative by involving others outside of your typical realm.

For musicians, there are the obvious collaborations- dance troupes, theater, film scores.

Here's a collaboration my students and I undertook in the spring with a 3-D art class.

Step 1: Art students are given instructions to create a visual representation of something non-visual. Create the taste of pineapple. The sound of a gunshot. The smell of honeysuckle.

Step 2: Music student(s) records a two minute improvisation based on the 3-D project with no knowledge of the artist's inspiration.

Step 3: Art students take the recordings and shoot a film based on the recording. Essentially, the usual roles are reversed as the movie is set to a soundtrack rather than vice-versa.

Step 4: Music students take the video, project it in a live concert without prior viewing, and improvise a new soundtrack to the film.

This particular project was a lot of fun for all involved. The ability to create something new without preconceived notions of what is expected allowed an immense amount of freedom for artist and musician alike. Reflection on the metamorphosis of the project was invaluable to trace the path one takes in creativity.

By the way, the audience liked it, too.

At your next opportunity, consider what new collaborations are possible.

What are some of your favorite collaborations? Future endeavors?

Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

Shut it.

What annoys you most about large ensemble rehearsals?

My answer to this question was observed today, yet through a positive reminder.

Here's what I mean. A question arose in our section requiring a second opinion. Instead of bringing the issue to the attention of the conductor, the section member brought his concern to the attention of the principal player. The two musicians had a brief private discussion, the question was addressed, and no rehearsal time was wasted on behalf of an individual issue. This happens countless times throughout a typical rehearsal...

Obvious enough, right?

I wish.

How many times have you experienced, even in high end ensembles, an individual(s) interested in hearing themselves talk, selfishly asking in the middle of intense rehearsing, "excuse me maestro, in measure 347, beat three, should that 16th note be mezzo forte or piu forte?"

Ugha.

When playing in a large ensemble, a group not typically run in a democratic fashion, my personal goal is to avoid any need for verbal interaction with the conductor. It's not personal, but professional and serves the good of all.

Simple rules to follow for the uninitiated:

1. Be prepared.

2. Communicate with section members first, then let the principal player address any issues beyond the section should resolution be needed by the conductor.

3. Your artistic choices should be predetermined but flexible. (See my previous post regarding flexibility).

When in doubt, refer to this list of fines for clarification.

What are your biggest rehearsal pet peeves?

Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

What interferes and is out of our control

The summer gigging/travel schedule is well underway as I begin a recording session with the USAF Band of Mid America, just across the river from my hometown of St. Louis, MO. I'm here to do a week of rehearsals followed by a week of recording the music of Clifton Williams. The project is with the concert band, arguably a musical dinosaur and the topic of recent discussion based on this bit of national news. Having spent several years playing with the USAF Band of the Golden West and my current affiliation with the ANG Band of the Gulf Coast, I'm attempting to formulate my opinions on the state of military music- a great artistic oxymoron. I'll tackle this topic as these two weeks unfold.

However, this entry has to do with circumstances that affect our performances in ways seemingly out of our control.

The following three examples entertained me today while doing what classical percussionists do best... counting rests.


1. The Editor/Engraver/Publisher Faux Pas

Sightreading this morning's rehearsal, my eyes quickly caught a measure of 12/8 with eleven beats. Jittery on iced coffee and a bit disoriented due to the heat, humidity, greenery, and weird smells of the Midwest, I double checked the error against other parts and quickly determined the original intent. No big deal. Then in a tacet moment of rehearsal, I reflected on the number of errors I've encountered over the years, considered the millions of printed scores generated throughout the centuries...

And soon lost my place counting rests. Nonetheless, what do you do with part errors?

Solution: Grab the score, other parts, and/or recordings and check the parts. Regardless of what you may find, there's no better tool than your ear. Always assume the part is wrong. Chances are, particularly if it's a standard piece of repertoire, someone has posted errata and the great oracle, Google, can shed some light on your issue.

2. Page Turners are Overworked and Underpaid

As an undergraduate, I wore an advertisement visible only to faculty and staff declaring my subconscious willingness to turn pages for any and all accompanists. Turning pages, on the surface, is absolutely inconsequential. You sit there, follow the score, stand up, watch in your peripheral vision for a head cue from the pianist, and in one quick motion, whip the page quietly and thoroughly without disrupting the sight line before returning temporarily to your seat. No brainer.

The reality... the page turner has nothing to do with the performance, little invested in the outcome, no recognition, yet the ability to crash the entire performance. Not to mention, pianists have the ability to execute some serious head fakes.

Solution: Just say no. Or demand a lot of money and top billing. When using a page turner, treat them with respect and dignity, massive amounts of scholarship money, and buy them a frosty beverage or two once in a while.

3. Sound Reinforcement Debacles

This past weekend, I was fortunate enough to perform in collaboration with wonderful musicians and dancers for a local festival. Unfortunately, as is often the case at music festivals with ever-rotating acts, a meltdown occurred. Mid-set, the stage right sound went out, taking with it the tabla, hammered dulcimer, and vocals while rendering our monitors useless. Needless to say, it was frustrating to diligently rehearse our performance, bringing countless years of collective creative experience to bare in front of a large and receptive audience, only to have it diminished by "technical difficulties."

As a side note for festival planners: Two services you don't want to skimp on:
1. Portapotties
2. Audio Services

To be clear, this is by no means a rant about audio engineers... I've worked with so many talented audio engineers over the years who've made me and my ensemble du jour sound wonderful, regardless of the innate challenges of the venue.

Here are some immediate post-performance thoughts:

-We almost always pick the musicians we perform with, but it's rare we have control over who reinforces the sound.

-An inexperienced performer is easily noticeable to the average audience member, but an inexperienced engineer is easily overlooked by contractors.

-Playing gigs with only the most reputable and highly skilled engineers is simply not reality for a large percentage of performances.

Solution (in three parts):

A. Be prepared. Have a detailed tech rider, gather as much information as to the expected audio offerings, and do your best to work those people skills. In my experience, particularly good engineers are happy to be in the background. Going unnoticed means they did their job. Inexperienced (and often overconfident) engineers need to be coerced with verbal ninja skills into wanting nothing more than to be a successful part of the product.

B. Learn to speak their language. This is similar to dealing with an IT guy/girl. Playing the innocent victim sets yourself up for catastrophe.

C. Become super awesome and famous and hire your own hand-picked audio engineers. That should do it.


The Bottom Line: We should, as artists, take music very seriously. But at the end of the day, it's music. Keeping life in perspective is not just important in the above examples, but in all we do. Learn, make notes, and move on.

Please visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

Tipping the Scale

There are two buckets.

The first bucket collects the sumptuous, brilliant "correct" notes you play. Even some of the notes you wish to play differently may be technically correct. They go into the first bucket as well. One at a time the correct notes collect, tipping the scale away from the empty bucket.

On occasion, we tend to play "wrong" notes. Physics, physiology, and psychology rear their ugly heads* during performance to prove their worth. As a result, rogue notes happen. In the second bucket are a handful of these musical malfunctions.

Think back to your last live performance.

You surely had the first bucket overflowing with good notes, the second with a few others.

However, we tend to give so much more weight to the wrong notes and ultimately create a psychological impairment that spirals into chaos.

To be clear, 95% right notes, or an A does not make for a good performance. A greater percentage is generally required, as demonstrated around 2:25 here. This is a bit of an extreme example.

Think back to the last live performance you attended. It's incredibly likely you heard wrong notes. At the same time, I hope you heard a well prepared, passionate performance.

Remember, your goal is to keep an overall perspective and prevent the dangerous cycle of focusing on the occasional clammed note.

To accomplish this, two separate personalities are required- one for the practice room and one for the stage.

The first analyzes, the second demonstrates without passing judgment. Learning versus sharing. As you exit the learning phase, practice the performance phase. When it becomes time to take the stage, you are focused on what matters. (More on this in future blog posts).

Sharpen your awareness on what you're trying to say musically and the number of notes in each bucket will cease to be relevant.

The scale is already tilting in your favor. Trust the process.


Inspired by William Allaudin Mathieu and his wonderful books.


*Much love to my colleagues in the ugly-headed disciplines

Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

Don't Do This!

With an upcoming gig of smashing* (see below) cymbals together for a couple of performances of Orff's Carmina Burana, I am reminded of the time I was fired for doing such a thing. To be clear, it wasn't my musicianship that got me in to trouble but something much more hideous... my egregious attitude.


Here's the story:

(The ensemble, conductor, city, and time period in my life shall remain anonymous)

I'm killing it in the final rehearsal of a very gratifying concert run, playing enjoyable repertoire with a very good anonymous ensemble. We are reading everything down and I'm nailing my timbre choices with impeccable timing, tasteful balance and blend, and feeling, shall I say, utterly confident about my abilities, my career choice, and my art. There's nothing I'd rather do than play music, and the fact I was getting financially compensated meant I'm obviously a fully accredited professional. Life simply couldn't be better.

Then the moment which shall forever live in my mind, in the deepest, darkest recesses where pride and shame reside to do battle with one another for eternity. Okay, perhaps I'm slightly overstating the psychological effects of the incident, but here I am, an anonymous amount of time later recounting the incident with perfect mental clarity. I'd say the moment was quasi-defining. I'll leave it at that and get on with the story....

As the anonymous ensemble reaches a climactic moment in this anonymous composition, the typical anonymous composer from the typical anonymous time period wrote a dramatic cymbal crash at the pinnacle of the work. On this gig, it's my job to punctuate it with a dynamic cymbal crash, perfectly blended with the ensemble, timed to perfection, and with ridiculous, perhaps unfathomable amounts of tone color. In my hands are the perfect pair of cymbals for this very crash and in my soul are years of technique for this very refined instant.

I make it happen.

I look over at my anonymous colleagues in the percussion section and they nod with approval... perhaps even envy.

I selfishly look throughout the ensemble to see if anyone else was impressed by the artistry I just dropped on the rehearsal. Perhaps an eye from an anonymous violinist.

I smile to myself, let the drama sink in, and begin to plan my entire future playing more crashes in ensembles the entire world over. This is my gig. My calling.



Then for some inexplicable reason, the conductor stops the ensemble and says, "Mr. Cymbals, I need you to hold the cymbals up in the air after you hit them like this so everyone can see them."

Confusion sets in. A sense of panic. First of all, I kept my family name at birth and "Cymbals" isn't very Irish sounding. Then I think, is he really talking to me? Considering what just took place, the only words he should be uttering to me are "bravissimi" or "give the man a raise." What is going on? I immediately second-guess the sound I created and whether or not it was sufficient for "Mr. Baton's" taste. However, that's not consistent with his statement.

So I ask, "Is there a different sound you are looking for?"

He responds, "just hold the cymbals up in the air after you make the crash so we can see them."

I coldly reply, "I am certain the audience will see the cymbals just fine. If you want a different sound, tell me, but if you want me to look different, I'm not going to alter my technique."

A staring contest ensues....

He finally summons the response, "Do as I say."

I retort, "No."

Tension wafts throughout the ensemble, and then with the diplomacy of a U.N. Peacekeeper, the personnel manager announces our break.

My blood pressure is through the roof, but I held my ground. How dare this clueless conductor tell me how I should look when I play. Would he question how the clarinets sit? If he felt the urge, would he tell the bassists to use a German grip versus French? I don't think so. Me, 1, conductor, 0.

As I'm collecting my thoughts and wondering where the rest of the percussion section disappeared to, I see the personnel manager bee-lining in my direction.

We'll say the conversation was less than cordial.

To make an already long and painful story a few paragraphs shorter, I was allowed to play the two concerts and would never be rehired. Conductor, 1, Me, 0.

No, I didn't change how I played the crashes for the concert.

Would I change how I handled the situation?

Emphatically, YES. How arrogant I was. How humbled I quickly became.

Did the conductor handle himself well? Probably not. But it really doesn't matter.

We strike some sort of artistic or technical compromise all of the time.

The bottom line is to be mature, professional, and realistic. Play the gig, serve the music, and if the artistic and professional expectations are unreasonable, courteously bow out of the next opportunity.

There are countless ways this episode should have been addressed.

Simply put, don't do what I did!



*smashing with great artistry, finesse, and countless hours of practice and performance. However it's still just hitting two plates of metal together. At least it's not making flatulent sounds with your lips into plumbing (i.e. brass players).


Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

5 Ways to Survive a Painful Performance (as an audience member)

Surely you've sat through an excruciating performance with no hope of escape. Our modern day distraction, the smartphone, isn't socially acceptable in the concert hall (although, that rarely stops audience members) so we're forced to either:
a. Suffer in silence
b. Have a game plan

Here are my top five lifesaving distractions:

1. The Toe Rudiment Challenge
Practice all 40 PAS Rudiments... with your toes. Go in order and see how quickly you can burn them. Caution: Loosen shoes before beginning as swelling may occur. Also works with gluteus muscles. Proceed with caution.

2. Death by Polyrhythms
Perhaps you've seen a woodwind player in an unconscious moment air-fingering through a difficult passage during conversation. Their fingers wiggle quietly and no one seems to notice. The same can be done with polyrhythms. If you're lucky enough for the performer(s) on stage to be keeping time, you can lock into some good practice of 3 against 4 against 5 (your toes are already warmed up so get them involved).

3. Meditation
Nothing but upside. Breath control, stress management, focus, and energy conservation are all part of musician's daily lives. It takes practice to go to your happy place. Do you really carve out an hour or two of your day to practice meditation? As an audience member in a cruel and unusually punishing recital, launch your meditation practice. For a "how to," I'm a fan of Thich Nhat Hanh but there are hundreds of other Zen masters with a book to sell you.

4. Create Poetry
Limericks are the best. Use your fellow audience members for inspiration. "There once was a man with bad odor..." What rhymes with odor?
If you want to be a little classier, try Haiku. If you need help, this link should do it. Immediately notate your gifts to humanity on the back side of the program once the concert has concluded. Celebrate with a tasty beverage.

5. It Could Be Worse
I just finished reading Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption and clearly, a bad concert isn't torture. However, some survival tactics may apply:

a. Try and determine why the performer(s) have chosen to torture you. There are countless reasons that may or may not include sadism. Chances are, they aren't prepared for the performance. Try and diagnose their performance maladies and develop a treatment plan.

b. Plan your escape. An exit through the same doors you entered lacks creativity. Could you cause a distraction? Low crawl? Chisel through the floor beneath your seat? The more bizarre, the better. At least 5 minutes of the performance can be expended planning the great breakout.

c. Maintain physical activity... in your chair (see number one and two). The same applies to flights during that awful period where you are forced to stow away all portable electronic devices. Here are some seated exercises. Bring a towel.

d. Stay positive. There's still much to live for after the concert. There may be punch and cookies.

What are your tried and true survival techniques?

Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

Perseverance. Use it.

The answer to a successful career in music is perseverance. An obvious prerequisite is musical proficiency, but seriously... we've all heard and seen performers/composers/educators/etc who lead us to think, "I can do that...and better."

Persevere five years after school and you've probably outlasted many of your peers*. A few years of hard work and you'll realize you can do it.

Your gigs get better, your reputation grows, your music and business skills evolve, and you're making a living as a musician. There's nothing more rewarding.

The challenge is, the work never ends. If you're driven, you'll never feel as though you've arrived. You're always looking for the next gig, recording project, commission, connection, or new opportunity.

Embrace it. Enjoy the challenge. Make career planning and development part of your routine and enjoy the ride.

Thanks to composer Jenni Brandon for inspiring this post. Check out Jenni's great music at www.jennibrandon.com


*As a side note, this statement isn't passing judgement on those who leave the music business. Life and career changes happen. Ask around... how many sociology, psychology, education, etc graduates are working in their field?

Conferencing 101

Lately, it seems as though I spend every 21 days at a conference of some sort or another. Each time I pack for a trip, three things happen:
A. Laundry keeps me up late
B. Gabriel, my pooch, suffers from anxiety at the sight of the suitcase
C. I reflect upon how to cut more corners and make the experience a little better

Here are some things to consider before your next conference. Check back as this list will grow and please feel free to add your suggestions to the comments.

Here we go with the first 10:

1. Comfortable shoes. Obvious. At this past year's PASIC, I fell victim to the insole saleswoman... but my bubbly insoles feel great.

2. Hand sanitizer. Too many hand shakes, buffets, etc. Gross.

3. Remember the business cards. They may seem passé, but you'll feel lame when someone asks and you cannot deliver.

4. Water bottle. Every conference provides water. Dry hotel air and late night drinks will dehydrate. Why pay for water? Save your money for that kitschy little piece of garbage in the exhibit hall you've had your eye on.

5. Sit on the aisle and near the door if there's even a remote chance you may want to leave. Don't feel bad for leaving. Just make like you have an important meeting and do it.

6. Conferences are for networking. Yes, you go for learning, presenting, recharging, and renewing inspiration, but networking is key. Make an effort to introduce yourself to the person next to you. When walking from session to session, strike up a conversation with someone near you. Keep it positive, even if the session you attended was the epitome of suckage. Steer away from negativity whenever possible.

7. Food. Bring energy bars. A $47 caesar salad that's been unrefrigerated for six hours as your only mid-day meal option is not okay. And don't be shy about asking people to join you for meals. Remember the gum and mints.

8. A designated receipt envelope. When you get home (or are preparing for the next conference) and are cleaning out jacket pockets, bags, suitcase pockets, wallets, purses, or man bags in search of every single meaningful receipt, you'll be grateful. Hopefully someone else is footing the bill, but if not, write it off!!

9. Balance your sanity with session attendance. Only you know how much of the exhibit area you can take before psychosis sets in, and getting hit with too much information by attending every single session may have the opposite effect you were seeking.

10. When you get back to the room/on the plane, write down names, thoughts, ideas, brainstorms, inspiring moments, action items, and followups while they are still fresh. This is very important to get the most out of the conference. If you are a presenter, reflect upon your session and jot down ideas you picked up from other presenters. Watching a great presenter can supersede the most mundane subject matter.

See you at the next conference, wherever that may be. I'll be the guy bouncing gleefully in his bubbly insoled shoes, or sitting near the door for a quick escape.

What are your conference musts?

Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

Body Language

Think about it... as a musician, everything we do is based on body language. What we project from the stage, how we read a conductor, other musicians in a chamber setting, or following the guitarist/lead singer through a tune you've never previously performed. How someone breathes, cues, feels time, preps their body, and reacts to subtle change is important in everything we do. And not just in music.

There are people we say are easy to follow. Why some and not others?

Do you practice picking up on mannerisms? Projecting mannerisms? Of course you do- every single day. Transfer these skills to music? Are you "easy to follow?" If not, be that person. Practice in a mirror. Practice for friends. Practice with musicians.

Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

Reverse Engineering

At a recent clinic on developing the small school drum line, I discussed the concept of reverse engineering music and the western traditional way of learning. What I mean is to take aural learning (rote, by ear, etc) and converting it into reading. Breaking the standard modality and consequently accepting others into the fold.

Be honest, does the mention of learning by rote evoke a negative response?

Now consider other cultures- when you hear a virtuoso tabla player, do you shudder by the fact they probably learned through an aural tradition? A master gyil player from Ghana- same thing?

I've taught numerous students who weren't products of their public school music education system but could seriously play. They learned in church gospel bands, garage bands, and by listening to others and emulating.

They had 50% of what every musician needs. I taught the other 50%. Reading.

Both are important. Both are musical traits worthy of development.

Why do we transcribe solos when learning to improvise? Reverse engineering.

The same can be done with anything we play. Play it. Record it. Write it. Reverse engineered.

Have your students do the same. Have your drum line create a cadence, record it, and then write it down. Now it's recorded for next season and in print as well. You just opened the door to students who would not otherwise be interested and capable of playing.

Steel band... same thing. Teaching both sides reaches a larger pool of musicians and through skillful teaching, you can merge the two types of musicians, the readers and aural learners, into one.


Develop the skill in lessons, too. There's only an upside.

Visit my website at www.jameswdoyle.com

Writing Your Future... the Dream Bio.

As I prepare to present a clinic on entrepreneurship for college students, I'm reminded of a poignant exercise in career planning:

1. Google someone who is currently doing what you want to do.
2. Read their bio.
3. Determine their path... perhaps email them and request an interview.
4. Compare their path to your current trajectory.
5. Write your "dream" bio and the steps you'll take to get there.

Am I suggesting you copy someone's life? No. But you can use their examples as a map.

When XC skiing in the back country, if there are already tracks, you can choose to take them, cut your own, or use a little of both. The bottom line is, you get to the destination.