If you missed it, here’s the link to Part 1 - The Incident.

Quick recap: While he listened to my Donna Lee Variations, Joe took an opportunity to publicly expose what he thought was ignorance and inexperience. He vibed me big time.

Joe doesn’t seem to want to correct an awful first impression. And I have no interest in pursuing a relationship; not even a musical relationship. What’s the point? If two musicians have a bad personal relationship, can they still have a good musical relationship? Can you separate the two? I don’t think so, and I would never put myself in a position to find out! If we don’t get along personally, why would we want to make music together? Down the road, I’m sure Joe will make good music, just not with me. The ball is in Joe’s court.

It’s amazing how just a few of Joe’s words can bring forward so many issues. Some of these issues deserve more discussion, but they all deserve consideration. I fear they have found their way into the jazz/music culture and we’re taking them for granted.

Thanks for reading!

If you missed it, here’s the link to Part 1 - The Incident.

Quick recap: While he listened to my Donna Lee Variations, Joe took an opportunity to publicly expose what he thought was ignorance and inexperience. He vibed me big time.

To vibe someone is to give attitude (either actively or passively). It can be as obvious as mouthing off, or as subtle as giving the cold shoulder. Why do people vibe one another? You may think that vibe-ing is similar to what I discussed in the previous post. But I think vibe-ing is different. It’s not meant to create a student-teacher division. Instead, it’s used as an attempt to tip the ‘social-status’ scales because for some reason, the viber has a need to express dominance. The fact that Joe vibed me publicly is telling of this.

Nobody likes being vibed, but there are always people who do it. It’s always inappropriate and uncalled for. I’m sure it has become habitual for some. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if vibe-ing is most prevalent in the performing arts where artists are constantly putting their egos/souls on the line!

How do you deal with being vibed? It’s quite simple. In my experience, you’re best option is to blow it off. If you’re being vibed, chances are there’s something happening in the mind of the viber that runs deeper than a personal conflict with you; it’s not you, it’s them. Once you’ve blown it off, then you can decide if you want to pursue a relationship. Good luck! Whatever happens, don’t vibe back.

Nothing positive comes from vibe-ing. Bottom line: Don’t do it. Ever. Tell your ego to bite the bullet for the moment and expose itself. You’ll be amazed at how much more satisfying it is and the return can be even greater!

Stay tuned for Part 8!

If you missed it, here’s the link to Part 1 - The Incident.

Quick recap: While he listened to my Donna Lee Variations, Joe took an opportunity to publicly expose what he thought was ignorance and inexperience.

If I were sixty years old, playing my Donna Lee Variations, things would have been very different. Joe may have dug it, he may have hated it, but I’m sure he wouldn’t have said anything, especially if I had a respectable reputation. That’s why this is an issue.

There’s often a division created between experienced, reputable musicians and the unknown and less experienced ones. It’s most apparent within a student-teacher relationship where both parties have accepted that a division is needed and should be respected. Although it is not exclusive to the older, reputable and more experienced; Problems arise when someone assumes a teacher role without the consent of his/her (assumed) student. It becomes more problematic when those ‘teachers’ feel they are entitled to a division and think their ‘students’ are obligated to accept and respect it.

Here’s the issue: Age and reputation can create the illusion of a proper division between teachers and students. From his perspective, Joe may have acted out because he thinks his age and reputation are enough to justify a proper student-teacher relationship. What’s worse is that he’s prepared to act on this presumption in front of friends and colleges! From my perspective, if Joe was playing Donna Lee Variations and I was listening, it would have been improper (and social suicide) to even suggest that he played a wrong note and engage in any public critique. For the same reason, after Joe’s ‘wrong-note’ comments, defending myself was complicated and almost impossible; “Who does Chris think he is defending himself from Joe, an older, respectable and more experienced musician?!”

If Joe’s intention was to create this division, his mistake was in overlooking a fundamental characteristic of proper student-teacher relationships: Mutuality. With Joe’s forced division and my unwillingness to accept it (especially when it comes to Donna Lee), there’s a conflict.

This issue deserves much attention; it runs deep. I’ve identified mutuality as a discussion topic, but I realize that it’s only part of the picture. For the sake of keeping the focus on Joe, I’ll be sure to revisit this issue in the near future!

Stay tuned for part 7!

If you missed it, here’s the link to Part 1 - The Incident.

Quick recap: While he listened to my Donna Lee Variations, Joe took an opportunity to publicly expose what he thought was ignorance and inexperience.

The tradition has been known to encourage cutting. Was this Joe’s purpose?

Doubtful. Doesn’t cutting involve having instruments in hand and letting the music do the talking? I’m not (necessarily) talking about stride pianists trying to outplay each other, I’m talking about general improv battles and on-stage competitiveness. May the best player win!

No, this isn’t what Joe was doing. Otherwise he would have kept silent and waited until the concert to show how Donna Lee really should be played. Let the listeners decide! But maybe the tradition has since morphed into something different. You don’t cut on-stage, you cut off-stage. You don’t use your instrument, you use your mouth. It’s not about the music; it’s about your reputation. You don’t need mutual respect, just the best put-down.

So maybe Joe wanted to keep me on my toes; he wanted to throw me off my game! I hope this isn’t a growing trend. It would grossly ruin an honorable tradition.

Stay tuned for Part 6!

If you missed it, here’s the link to Part 1 - The Incident.

Quick recap: While he listened to my Donna Lee Variations, Joe took an opportunity to publicly expose what he thought was ignorance and inexperience.

When is it advisable to compromise a relationship? Unless there is a serious conflict of interest or ethical issues involved, I would say: Never! Respect everybody, develop your people-skills and know how other people are responding to you on a personal level. Knowing how to nurture relationships is very important, especially for young artists.

Why would Joe risk compromising our relationship? Actually, it’s most likely that he either doesn’t care about nurturing relationships, or he doesn’t realize that he’s compromising them. The first instance is admirable only because (I’m assuming) he’s only interested in nurturing musical relationships. He seeks people he can connect with strictly on a musical level. This is only admirable to a point, which is when you realize that a person’s reputation isn’t enough to justify being an asshole.

The second instance tells that he is unaware of how people respond to his personality. It’s social awkwardness. If you’re an asshole, you’d better figure it out fast and start mending bridges. Your success depends on it!

Stay tuned for Part 5!

If you missed it, here’s the link to Part 1 - The Incident.

Quick recap: While he listened to my Donna Lee Variations, Joe took an opportunity to publicly expose what he thought was ignorance and inexperience.

Think about what happens when you suspect ignorance and inexperience. Immediately, you’ve drawn a line and made a division: You have more experience, and they have less. In a manner of speaking, you have set yourself as the teacher, and he/she the student. How do you handle this?
It’s natural to listen for an artist’s experience and compare it to your own, but the lesson here is how you deal with it.

First, you have to know that when listening to music, it’s impossible to know the exact nature of an artist’s diligence and experience. What if I told you I’ve never heard a recording of Donna Lee, and that I wrote some variations on a melody I randomly pulled from a fakebook? On the other hand, what if I was a Donna Lee scholar? When listening to any performance, you may have your suspicions, but you can never know, especially when an artist’s technical skills are well developed. It’s impossible.

Second, because knowing is impossible, publicly expressing your suspicions is extremely risky. There’s a chance you’re dead wrong. There’s a chance that people will disagree with you. Also, because you’re assuming an authoritative position, you run the risk of compromising a relationship. This is especially true if you’re not the fellow musician’s teacher or he/she didn’t ask for your feedback.

To clarify, I’m not saying publicly expressing your suspicions is a bad thing; you just have to be careful. I know that you want to keep artists honest, but you don’t want to put your foot in your mouth, and you definitely don’t want to shoot yourself in the foot. Make sure you have enough ammunition and good tact to back yourself up. This means you have to be extremely knowledgeable of the artist, his/her music and the context.

In my opinion, Joe made three mistakes. First, he didn’t give himself the opportunity to make a well-informed opinion (he only heard one of ten variations). Second, he assumed an authoritative position when it was most inappropriate and third, he did nothing to mend an awful first impression. He misread me, my music and the context.

Not sure if it’s worth the risk? Here’s some advice that will work 100% of the time: Keep your opinions to yourself. Read this post on unsolicited opinions.

Stay tuned for Part 4!

If you missed it, here’s the link to Part 1 - The Incident.

I don’t know why Joe did what he did. But I’d like to identify some issues that emerge because of instances like this.

Quick recap: While he listened to my Donna Lee Variations, Joe thought I played a wrong note.

First of all, what makes it ‘wrong?’ Joe thought it was wrong because I played it differently from Parker’s recording. But I played it that way on purpose. Is it still a wrong note? Of course not! I played it exactly how it was meant to be played. I won’t mention the countless examples of respected artists performing standards with ‘wrong’ notes over ‘wrong’ chords in the ‘wrong’ key in the ‘wrong’ time signature with the ‘wrong’ phrasing and the ‘wrong’ instrumentation (‘wrong’ means: different from the original version/recording)

Side note: Some interesting questions you might consider: Would Charlie Parker (or Miles) have cared that I changed their notes? Generally speaking, how has the tradition accepted ‘wrong’ notes? Does that matter to you?

I might as well reveal the real absurdity, which is that Joe plays ‘wrong’ notes all the time with the rest of us. It’s safe to say that there are too many contradictions and inconsistencies to assume that one silly note is at the heart of this situation.

So why did Joe care about my ‘wrong’ note?

Here’s a likely possibility: Joe didn’t really care about the note. But he used my ‘wrong’ note as an opportunity to publicly expose what he thought was ignorance and inexperience. Yikes!

This opens up a variety of issues. Stay tuned for Part 3!

The next few posts revolve around an incident I had with a person named Joe. Joe is about twenty years older than me; a generation older. We’ve never met. He’s respected. I know who he is, and respect him. He doesn’t know who I am.

As I’m sound checking for a performance, Joe is hearing my Donna Lee Variations for the first time. As I finish the first variation, Joe yells out, “Watch that second-last note buddy….”

I ignore the comment and continue with the second variation. When I finish, Joe yells out again: “Hey buddy, you’re playing that last phrase wrong! Check out the recording. The last notes go like this: [singing]. Not: [singing]. You gotta check out Bird’s recording and fix that note!”

It’s difficult to describe the context here. Joe had no humour or kindness in his voice. Nor was he trying to politely educate me by generously sharing his knowledge. This was a put-down in the strictest sense. He was marking territory. He was making a division. He was being inappropriate.

I wanted to respond, but was frozen and speechless. An internal battle ensued as to how to appropriately resolve this. I felt I needed to defend myself without compromising the relationship. It was an awkward situation. A friend who is also well-respected in the jazz community was nearby. He was listening and was familiar was my arrangement. He said to me in good humour, but loud enough for Joe to hear: “Don’t worry, he doesn’t know.” I continued and finished my sound-check. There were no more words from Joe for the rest of the night…Only vibes.

I’m happy to be writing about this. There are so many issues here.

Stay tuned for Part 2!

Here’s a link to part 3.

Quick recap: When it comes to written music and improvised music, I try to make the best with both worlds.

The question I ask in “Which is More Impressive?” is a bit loaded. Both options are honourable undertakings that require serious discipline and have their own set of challenges. But besides building vocabulary, there’s another reason why performing written music is important to me.

Through studying written music, I’ve gained an appreciation and often strive for a perfect realization in a score. A perfect score means that every music-making material is in perfect synchronicity with one’s tastes. Personally, if I consider a score perfect, I wouldn’t dare waiver from the written music; it doesn’t require any amount of improvisation or embellishment; it’s perfect just the way it is! It just requires execution.

Side Note: Striving for a perfect realization has implications for composing too, but these posts will only deal with performing.

My experience as a solo pianist has shown that performing written music or heavily prepared music poses some problems. I’m always wrestling with physical issues, aesthetical issues with audiences and subsequently, issues getting gigs. I’d like to reflect on these in the next few posts.

Beginning with a physical issue:

Performance repertoire that’s written or heavily prepared requires maintenance. And harder music means more maintenance. Memory fades! Maintenance is unavoidable, but there are things you can do to minimize it. Here are my answers to Peter’s questions:

“I wish I could have my entire performance repertoire in my immediate repertoire, but memory fades and maintenance can be very time-consuming…It’s a balancing act. If I put more tunes in my immediate rep, then I won’t have as much time to learn new rep. If I spend more time on new rep, then I’ll have less time to spend on maintaining my immediate rep. I think I’ve found a balance that works for me.

Generally, I derive balance from my concert programming, which is always changing and evolving. I don’t maintain repertoire that I don’t intend to perform! I’d be very interested to know how maintenance differs from pianist to pianist. How long does it take them to bring repertoire back to a performance level after not playing it for a certain amount of time? What factors are involved? How did they find their balance?

Stay tuned for Part 5!

Here’s a link to part 2.

Quick recap: Sometimes acquiring solo piano vocabulary means reaching into a tradition that extends beyond jazz.

Jazz piano is only an extension of a much broader, 300+ year old keyboard tradition (an extension that could use more exploring, I might add!). There are many non-jazz composers and pianists who have contributed to a massive body of repertoire that explores every extremity of piano playing.

Is it necessary to check out the classical piano tradition to play meaningful music? No. Is it necessary to check out the classical piano tradition to understand and appreciate the piano to its fullest capacity? Yes! I should add that just as the jazz community listens for acknowledgement of the jazz tradition, the piano community listens for acknowledgement of the piano tradition.

For this reason, my practice schedule usually includes music from two pianists, one from the jazz community and one from the broader piano community. This is where traditions collide: jazz and classical, improvised and written music. Currently, it’s Bud Powell and George Gershwin. Previously, it has been Fred Hersch and Glenn Gould (J.S. Bach). Later this year, I think it will be Monk and Stravinsky. I check ‘em out until I can’t take ‘em anymore!

My view is that building vocabulary trumps all considerations regarding jazz vs. classical, or improvised vs. written music. If it moves me, I don’t hesitate to study it, learn it and maybe incorporate it into my performing repertoire. Of course, this requires an extra consideration, as I mentioned in my answers for Peter:

“I ask myself two things: 1) Does this composition move me? 2) Am I capable of sharing/re-creating this experience for my audiences? If the answer to both questions is “yes,” I’ll take steps to incorporate that composition into my performance rep.”

But it all gets incorporated into my vocabulary: Music vocab, piano vocab, improvisatory vocab or otherwise!

Stay tuned for Part 4!

Here’s a link to Part 1.

Quick recap: The jazz tradition is known for improvisation and spontaneity, but the tradition has also accepted certain degrees of prepared music; the community doesn’t always realize this!

Every improviser has, and is experimenting with his/her own balance between the two. Personally, I’m interested in how solo pianists keep this balance. I’m finding that compared to other instrumentalists they’re more often exploring and wrestling with the two extremities.

With all this in mind, I use these three solutions to answer the question I posed in the previous post (“What do I do with my left-hand!?”):

1. I give my left-hand something specific to play (prepared)
2. I give my left-hand something to play within a concept (prepared/improvised)
3. I just play (improvised)

In my responses to Peter’s questions I mentioned that improvisation is a creative act of regurgitating vocabulary. This means giving my left-hand something specific to play (like in Keith’s YouTube video) may be part of a grander process of acquiring vocabulary. If my goal is to eventually improvise with my left hand, I need to build a more extensive vocabulary so that I can either freely regurgitate within a particular concept, or feel comfortable regurgitating something ‘off-the-cuff.’

Side note: I wish more pianists would ask: “What do I do with my right-hand!?”

Let me clarify the word “vocabulary.” In this context, it seems to insinuate harmonic vocabulary, melodic vocabulary and rhythmic vocabulary, but I intend it to represent much more including phrasing, form, energy, touch, balance, shape, range, control, performance practices and every music-making variable that could apply to improvisation and performing. If pianists want to hold their own playing two sets of solo piano, I would encourage them to acquire vocabulary that includes all of these things.

Sometimes that means reaching into a tradition that extends beyond jazz.

Stay tuned for Part 3!

Back in November, Peter Hum sent me some questions on playing solo piano. My answers are here.

Performing solo piano has a number of challenges. Performing solo piano regularly means more challenges. I’d like to reflect on these in the next few posts, expand on my answers to Peter’s questions and pose a few of my own.

“What do I do with my left-hand!?”

It’s a common question that comes from pianists first getting acquainted with playing solo piano. A pianist’s answer will reveal much about his/her solo-piano concept and approach, and specifically, how he/she balances prepared music with improvised music.

Side note: I wish more pianists would ask this question when playing with a trio/ensemble!

In my opinion, the degree in which jazz pianists balance prepared music with improvised music is often miscalculated. This is particularity true with solo playing and to a lesser extent, trio playing. My transcriptions have shown that the balance often leans more toward prepared music than listeners may think. For example, take a look at my transcription of Bud Powell’s Parisian Thoroughfare; every A-section, head-in and head-out, is played virtually the same every time! What does this say about Powell’s concept and approach?

My interpretation is that we’re listening to something that’s a result of many hours of reading, studying, listening, transcribing, brainstorming, deconstructing, crafting, recording, practicing, practicing and practicing. Most excitingly: it’s also evolving! Most importantly, this performance is not completely ‘off-the-cuff.’ Powell had some things prepared and worked out.

Another example: Isn’t it ironic that YouTube’s most watched, solo-piano video by one of the world’s greatest improvisers is heavily prepared?



What is Keith’s left-hand doing? How do you think he worked that out?

There’s no magic formula, only practice.

Stay tuned for part 2!

A few months ago, I wrote about competitions (here and here). This prompted a reply from Australian pianist and friend Daniel Gassin (his post here).

Among other things, Daniel wrote that two of his fellow competitors, who weren’t selected as finalists, commented that they’d “rather be doing gigs and tours with leading musicians than winning competitions.” I can’t comment on which is more valuable to the individual, but they’re certainly not mutually exclusive.

Why wouldn’t you participate in competitions? I can think of three reasons:

1. You can’t afford travel and accommodation,
2. You don’t want to pass up a more fruitful opportunity
3. You’re aesthetically opposed to competitions.

Otherwise I would encourage you to apply for all competitions. Engage the community!

Let me be clear: a bio that states you won first place in a competition offers no more legitimacy than a bio that reads you’ve played with leading musicians. Ideally, the only thing that should give us legitimacy is our music, but that’s the paradoxical nature of the language and unfortunately, it’s the language the music community uses to judge us!

I try to react neutrally to flashy bios and resumes. I imagine that most artists are the same. Wouldn’t you want to hear if they’re good before booking them for a tour? However, reading that they’re won a competition or played with someone heavy will peak my interest; it’s hard to resist!

That being said, I guarantee that winning/participating in competitions won’t hurt you. It may hurt your ego, but so could playing with leading musicians!

The community will respond positively to both, so do them both!

Having the ability to perfectly execute your improvisations?

Or

Having the ability to perfectly execute a written score?

(Related is my post on: Perfect Technique)

A week before my performance in Ottawa on November 14th, Peter Hum contacted me and asked me a few questions regarding playing solo piano. This was prompted by a message he received from an Ottawa jazz fan:

“Should I go to Paradiso Saturday evening?  Do you think Chris will play anything different? As good as his solo work is, I've heard it enough - his CD, last gig at Paradiso, and the JazzWorks fundraiser. I await your guidance.”

Peter’s questions and my answers are below. In the coming weeks, I’ll be reflecting on his questions and other issues with playing solo piano in more detail.

1. How many tunes are in your solo "book?"

I always have at least two sets of music (14-16 songs) in my immediate repertoire (songs ready to go at anytime). But my entire performance repertoire (tunes I’ve performed at least once) is probably triple that. I wish I could have my entire performance repertoire in my immediate repertoire, but memory fades and maintenance can be very time-consuming.

It’s a balancing act. If I put more tunes in my immediate rep, then I won’t have as much time to learn new rep. If I spend more time on new rep, then I’ll have less time to spend on maintaining my immediate rep. I think I’ve found a balance that works for me.

2. What is the split between originals and other people's compositions?

In my immediate repertoire, it’s usually one-third originals and two-thirds non-originals. The balance in my entire repertoire is more like one-fifth originals. One of my long-term goals as a composer is to invert that balance.

3. What are some of the criteria that attract you to developing other people's compositions for your own performance? What are some specific examples?

I ask myself two things: 1) Does this composition move me? 2) Am I capable of sharing/re-creating this experience for my audiences? If the answer to both questions is “yes,” I’ll take steps to incorporate that composition into my performance rep.

• Yes, Doug Riley’s music moves me. Yes, I think I can re-create that experience.
• Yes, My Foolish Heart moves me (especially Bill Evans/Tony Bennett’s rendition). Yes, I think I can re-create that experience.
• Yes, Bach’s music moves me. No, I don’t think I’m physically capable of playing his music.
• Yes, Kapustin’s music moves me. Yes, I think I can re-create that experience (just barely!).

Being mentally capable is also important, but it’s not part of my initial criteria. I usually make that discovery while practicing for a performance or on the bandstand. I’ve made last minute changes to set-lists because I didn’t think I was mentally/emotionally capable of performing something in that moment.

4. What's involved in bringing some of your material up to a performance level?

For written/prepared music, most of it is memory work. I try to memorize a piece on every level: visually, aurally and physically. In my ideal world, I should be able to pass three tests before my material is ready for a performance.

• Play all notes from memory as you want them to be played.
• Write out the score from memory away from the piano.
• Sing every note in the score from memory.

I rarely achieve 100%, but that’s what I’m striving for!

Preparing to perform improvised music is a little less systematic, but still follows a few patterns. It usually starts with a concept or a sound and then I develop/study a vocabulary to realize it. The concept could be bebop or Doug Riley or something original. If improvising is a creative act of regurgitating vocabulary, I’ll know a tune is ready for a performance when I think I can freely regurgitate within that concept.

Of course, I never really know if my material is up to a performance level until I’m actually performing it. That’s the ultimate test!

5. What would you say to a fan such as the writer above, who seems to be suggesting that he wonders if your performance Saturday will not be "different" enough from previous performances that he's heard?

Listeners may be interested and find enjoyment in every facet of music-making. This could include process, evolution, creation and re-creation. I can’t change their interests; all I can do is share mine.

6. Do you have any new tunes up your sleeve?

I always have new tunes up my sleeve! I try to mix up my set-lists when I know I may be performing for audiences I’ve performed for before.

Specifically for the Paradiso performance, I’ll be performing some new excerpts from my Metamorphosis set. I’m also going to dedicate an entire set to the music of Doug Riley.

The jazz community has many heroes.

Naturally, we emit a pressure on players to sound a certain way and to take after our heroes. Eventually though, every player has to trace out his/her own path.

I remember sitting down with a Bill Evans record once, dedicated to transcribing every note. I struggled because I didn’t really dig Bill Evans. After a few hours, I put it away; I was too frustrated. I learned an important lesson that day and vowed never to put my heart and soul into something I didn’t dig 100%. Otherwise, I’m succumbing to that pressure. That was a moment of clarity for me and I began tracing my path.

You will be criticized for not sounding enough like the heroes. You will also be criticized for sounding too much like the heroes. That’s sacred ground! How do you deal?

Ignore them. Be yourself.

When playing music with two or more musicians, you’re either leading or following.

In the best ensembles, everyone’s doing both simultaneously.

You have perfect technique if:

• You sound exactly how you want to sound and
• You’re not injuring yourself

Your listeners will think you have perfect technique if:

• You satisfy their tastes

I just got home from a performance of one of my favourite operas.

Tempos were generally slower than I’m used to. I felt the conductor was trying to milk every drop of emotion out of every sweet spot. Critics might have called it an indulgent performance. I wasn’t moved. But that’s not my point.

A sweet spot could be a number of different things. It could be a tempo, a melody, a groove, a climax, a note, or a chord. Anything that gives you that feeling.

We can’t get enough of the sweet spots. So it’s only natural to indulge in them. We’ll take these powerful moments and emphasize them somehow in our own performances. I thought that the conductor I heard tonight was slowing down and dragging out every melodic climax and sweet spot to the point of over emphasis and over indulgence. Again, I didn’t enjoy it, but there were other members of audience so moved that they couldn’t hold back the tears.

The interesting part:

In that audience was the next generation of listeners and performers, moved to tears from those emphasized and indulged sweet spots. What will their performances sound like? As I sat listening, I began to imagine the performance history of this opera. I heard a lineage of over-indulged indulgences. What about the next generation? When this opera is performed 100 years from now, how slow will those sweet spots be?

Who knows…. But this raises some interesting points about the performing lineage of classic, timeless works. I would argue that studying pieces of music to perform them as it was originally performed is a futile task. They’re inevitably going to change with the rest of us!

I thought I’d reflect a little more on my entry from May 10th. Specifically, how to find your ‘zone.’ I’m using that term to reference the mind space performers find themselves in when they are the most focused, creative and a possess a heightened capacity for channeling their ideas and inspiration.

I’m most happy with a performance when I’ve found my zone. Unfortunately, sometimes it’s difficult to find and even when I’ve found it, it’s difficult to retain. It occurred to me that your zone is a place of absolute freedom from the constraints of self-consciousness. If a performer is NOT in the zone, they may feel an internal pressure to play a certain thing or sound a certain way.

For example, they may be overly concerned that they are boring their audience, and feel pressure to alter their performance to keep them engaged and entertained. They may be unprepared or nervous. They may be fearful of sounding un-hip and therefore artificially hipify their music. Maybe they feel a pressure to sound like someone they’re not, hoping to bypass judgment from their peers. They’re all different issues, but will all contribute to the clouding of your zone.

What’s the solution? It mostly boils down to performance experience. And playing what you know and only what you know. Develop a concept you’re confident with and put yourself on the line.

Otherwise, you’ll sound how you feel: unfocused and out of your zone.

Be brave and be honest.

I recorded a demo today to submit to various competitions and festivals. I always have problems when I’m preparing material for competitions. If you’ve ever experienced a pre-screening process, you may know what I’m talking about.

First of all, competitions are useless to the advancement of a career unless you can get past pre-screening. If that happens, then can you can start cultivating relationships, perform live for your peers and maybe even walk away with some money!

So when preparing for pre-screening, there’s a struggle. You really want to make it to the next round and so your demo has got to be bold. You want to make it clear to the judges in the first 30 seconds that you can play fast, groove hard, be creative, acknowledge tradition, retain interest and attract an audience. The problem, considering all of these things is that it’s very difficult to make an honest statement that represents you and your musicality. Should you play for the judges, or should you just play?

Competitions are unpredictable. The most deserving doesn’t always win. Sometimes it’s the person who’s the most commercial, or the person with a touching story. Maybe it’s the person who’s the best looking. The point is that you’re never going to know what judges want. I’ve come to realize that you’re best shot is to stop thinking about it, find the zone and do what you do best.