As I write this, Harvey Rogers, Buffalo’s best jazz friend lies gravely ill in a cancer hospital.
Harvey has been a welcome fixture at all the local jazz joints, supporting celebrities and unknowns with warmth and appreciation, and, in my case, helpful critique.
It was my first public jazz gig and I was frozen with fear. In my previous incarnation as a folk singer I had played large and small audiences and had learned to work a crowd, but always with a guitar strapped on front, sharing original tunes. This was different. Just me, sound, audience – nothing in between – naked.
Harvey sat in the front row, his brown eyes snapping with attention behind the thick spectacles. As I began, Harvey nodded to the music, inspiring confidence.
After three songs, I confessed nervousness and that it was my first jazz gig, but was learning. At that, Harvey yelled out “Take your hands out of your pockets!” I laughed, and the rest of the gig went just fine. At the break, Harvey was complimentary, then suggested a list of songs I should consider in my repertoire – many of which have become favorites.
In the three and a half years since that gig, I’ve paid close attention to what I do with my hands and the rest of the body. Stagecraft is hard work.
More importantly, I’ve learned to take my hands out of my pockets in other ways – playing with guitarists in addition to wonderful pianists, occasionally incorporating a sax, getting acting as well as vocal coaching, and, in a few days going to Jazz Camp at Nazareth College. I’m strapping on the white belt of a beginner and am hoping to learn more about theory and improvisation – how to cut loose, scat and perform with creativity and courage.
Next week, whether Harvey is on this earth to delight us for more days or just living on in our memories, he will be with me at Nazareth, urging me to take chances, sing with wild abandon and take my hands out of my pockets for good and all.
Thanks Harv.
“When the pupil is ready, the Master appears”
– Unattributed
Mrs. Padlog, my piano teacher when I was 11 years old, probably wanted to strangle me. I had a good ear, picked up rhythm quickly, had great melodic sense and practiced only when I felt like it, mostly never. Songs came easily and I could play them well enough after two sittings, so figured the end-of-the-year recital would be easy-peasy and I would be crowned Best Student.
Facing 30 or so sweaty and anxious parents and children in Mrs. Padlog’s living room was not the envisioned cakewalk. King of the Road became a path of landmines in a forest of snakes. Guantanamera was the childhood equivalent of showing up naked at a cocktail party with a chicken wing hat. Playing faster did not help as the black notes danced and blurred while my heart beat crazily and face burned with shame. I ended with a mashed-up flurry of notes, and slunk off stage, followed by sparse claps and sympathetic faces.
I was not ready for Mrs. Padlog’s patient instruction. It would be 30 or so years before I was ready for my teachers to appear and truly learn from them. In time, becoming a good musician was important enough to overcome self-defeating habits and a really bad attitude.
Besides a modicum of talent, getting ready for the teacher is the key component in any success I’ve had as an artist and performer. Do you want to sing, paint, write, act or dance? You’ll need a great instructor, mentor or coach. I’ve been lucky to have a handful of them. Here’s how to get primed and draw them into your life:
“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!”
– Goethe
Envision: Where do you want to go? Do you dream of becoming a tap dancer? Picture yourself dancing in front of an appreciative crowd, commanding the stage to thunderous applause. Chart your path with gusto – a rudderless boat heads nowhere. Seal the deal by sharing your dream with a supportive friend. Four summers ago, I told my husband I wanted to be a jazz singer. He responded with a fist pump and an enthusiastic “yes!” I was on my way.
Expect the unexpected: Your teacher may not look the way you pictured or come from where you thought she would. What matters is that they have the heart of a teacher and can inspire you. One of my vocal coaches, Guy Boleri is a cranky, almost 80 year-old I met at a party. He yells at me, and early on, made me cry. Now I laugh at his bluster. He’s taught me more about phrasing and song choice than any book or college course could have.
“Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars.”
– Les Brown
Aim high: Whom do you admire? Often well-known performers and artists will supplement their income with teaching – and they might agree to teach you! They’ll certainly know of a good teacher to recommend. When I heard Andy Anselmo was going to be at a party I was singing at, I buzzed with fear. Andy is known as “Teacher to the Stars,” having taught such students as Liza Minnelli, Tony Bennett and Mandy Patinkin. That night I screwed up the courage to talk to Andy and now he’s my other vocal coach. In addition to intense vocal exercises and performance advice, I hear anecdotes about great American artists.
Be prepared to pay: And pay you will, in time, money and passion. You might have to give up cable or that weekly dinner out, and while that outlay can sting, the investment of money in your talent will inspire hard work. My biggest improvements have been when I’ve practiced when I least want to – late at night, when I’m tired, or during a holiday or vacation. It’s my message to the universe: I’m dog dead serious about succeeding and will pay the price to make it so.
“Wearing the white belt here means you have agreed to set aside all knowledge and preconceptions and open your mind to learning as though for the first time. Students here receive one belt and one belt only: the white belt. Those who put in the time, training, and effort will find their belt getting so soiled that eventually it turns black of its own accord.”
– Philip Toshio Sudo, Zen Guitar
Drop the ego: You may have been the lead in the high school play and the family’s best artist, but the attitude most helpful in attracting and keeping a good teacher is humility and a beginner’s mind. It’s a quality that allows you hear criticism, resist comparing yourself to others and persevere in the face of apparent failure. One of my first and best vocal instructors was a classical teacher named Frank Scinta who was also my father’s choirmaster. Dad knew I needed improvement and gently suggested lessons with Frank. Initially offended, I ditched my punctured pride and studied under him for two years. He gave me the gift of good tone, breath support and enunciation. None of this could have happened if I had maintained the illusion of not needing help.
I believe that when we open our hearts and ask (and if we are willing to work), the universe, God or whatever sends us what we need. The gift of a good teacher is that they can take a mediocre or budding talent and shape it into a thing of beauty and joy. A good student can surpass their own expectations and rise high above limitations. So, get dreaming, get humble and get ready to fly!
