Should I take a gap year?

Some interesting debates online about "should you change majors, "should you take a gap," etc. Here is my honest take - the same thing that I share with my students and my own children:

1. A gap year only makes sense if you have something better lined up than being a f/t student. If your plan is to live with your parents and drive food delivery or bag groceries, I don't think that is going to do much for your mental health. Worse still, you might end up living at home, sleeping all day and playing video games at night with no job at all. You'd be better off at least taking some classes online.

2. A college degree is a degree. How many of us do something that is different from, or tangential to, our actual majors. I am primarily a classical saxophone professor, but my degrees are in jazz studies and jazz arranging. Closely related? Sure! But I took on the extra study and teaching outside of my required curricula, which took extra time and money.

3. A degree will get you through the screening process of jobs that *require* a degree, but only YOU can develop the skills necessary to win a job. You are the architect of your future.

4. Don't make a one semester plan. Make a 5-year plan. Allow for contingencies, of course. Have an optimistic top tier and a last ditch version, if nothing else works out. After my masters degree, I ended up at the bottom rung of my plan, but 3 years later, I was back on top.

5. You certainly don't *have* to go to college. It is expensive, and we are all worried about having to go back online while the pandemic continues to wreak havoc. With that said, think carefully about how you spend, borrow, and invest. I still believe that education is an incredibly valuable investment.

6. How you spend the hours is how you spend your life. It is over quickly. Be smart, be realistic, but don't give up just because things look bleak. This is temporary, and we are all sharing in the suffering.

Hang in there! If you are a college student, don't let anyone pressure you into doing anything. You have big decisions to make and they are YOUR decisions. The people that love you will support your decisions as well as they can.

What Makes a Great Performance?

    World Saxophone Quartet was the first sax quartet that I really listened to.  30+ years later, I am still listening.  On the edge of my seat.  Heart pounding.  Arms up.  I am still listening.

However, there is a problem.  I strive to play with perfect pitch.  I preach to my students to play with magical blend.  We strive for control:  control of the sound, control of the articulation, play perfectly together.  We reach for perfection, but World Saxophone Quartet was anything except perfection (I'm writing about the classic 1980s lineup).  They were rough, raw, and often, OUT OF CONTROL.  I'm a saxophone professor, sitting in my basement with a collection of recordings that allow me to hear just about anything that I want, and I am listening to what moves me:  perfect imperfection.

Looking at this paradox, I reflect on what I consider to be my best performances.

1.  Performing John Mackey's Concerto at the Virginia Music Educators Association conference, around 10 years ago.  I had the opportunity to play it on a little tour with the JMU Wind Symphony leading up to VMEA, and I started experimenting with improvisation on the cadenza.  It was high pressure, a packed hall, but I had just had a revelation through my studies with Michael Colgrass.  I flung myself at the audience.  It was not recorded, but the crowd seemed to like it.  After it was over, I sat on the floor backstage and wept.  Hard.

2.  Performing Gil Evans' "Meaning of the Blues" with the JMU Jazz Ensemble, supervised by visiting scholar Ryan Truesdell.  This was the dress rehearsal, so again, it wasn't recorded.  George Adams is one of my great heroes of the tenor saxophone and I was so honored to have a chance to play this arrangement with my students and my dear colleague Chuck Dotas conducting.  The actual concert wasn't nearly as good, but in the dress rehearsal, I sort of left my body and watched a river pour through it from above.  It was like the room went black and I levitated for a couple of minutes.  I shook when it was over.  I was unable to recreate the experience on the actual concert.

3.  Recently, on JMU's George West Jazz Festival, I finally played Bob Brookmeyer's arrangement of "Skylark," which is probably my favorite big band arrangement ever, conducted by my friend and colleague David Stringham.  It was after a long day of listening to high school bands and giving clinics.  I was tired.  I was actually too tired to really think.  As I finished the cadenza, I quietly burst into tears on stage, thinking about Bob Brookmeyer.  There were audible gasps in the audience.

I've had plenty of great performances, but these really stand out in my mind.  They were not perfect.  I've given performances that were technically much better, at least as far as I can remember, being that only "Skylark" was recorded (I posted that one on YouTube), I was reckless and free of fear.  I trusted the integrity of my preparation implicitly.

I think that what makes a truly great performance is the ability to let go.  That freedom might come from being comfortable, or being uncomfortable.  In each of these instances, I was very inspired.  I felt great meaning in the moment.  We need to teach THAT to our students.  Strive to play perfectly and with control, but when the downbeat hits, let it go and remember WHY you are performing.  Tell your story in your words.  That's what World Saxophone Quartet does for me, and it is why I can't wait to take the stage again.

Practice well.