Although I am way behind on blog posts (I still have not even
posted about my incredible experience at the Silkroad Global Musician Workshop,
nor Mike Block String Camp), enough people have asked me why I suddenly
moved to France that I figured it is about time to post. Here are some answers
to the What, Where, When, Who, Why, and How:
What?
I have enrolled in a certificate program for jazz and
improvised music.
Where?
Centre des Musiques Didier Lockwood (CMDL) in
Dammarie-lès-Lys, France, about thirty miles (48km, I'd better get used to that) outside of Paris (I am living in the nearby town of Melun).
When?
Now! I moved to France last week. It is a two-year
program, finishing in spring of 2017. Placement exams are tomorrow.
Who?
I will be studying jazz violin with the incredible Didier Lockwood, as well as the other amazing faculty at CMDL. If you have never heard
of him, I recommend starting with this album (easier to swallow if you are not accustomed to progressive rock/jazz fusion).
Why?
Yes, why? Why, after eleven years of higher education
in violin performance, including a doctorate, would I want to go back and do even more
school? Unless you enroll in a program that specializes specifically outside of
classical music (like, at Berklee, or a jazz diploma program at a school like
New England Conservatory), the curriculum, pretty much everywhere, is limited to the classical
tradition (especially for string players). After eleven years of that, I have
discovered that I want to learn other things, and to acquire a new perspective
on what I already know. I want to be able to jump into, for example, a Latin
jazz ensemble with the same comfort as I do with a symphony orchestra or string
quartet.
Why France? Um... Why not France? What better way to
learn a new musical language than in my second language? One can only help the
other, right? I studied French in middle and high school, came back to
it as an upperclassman in college, and lived in Geneva for a year. It’s been
ten years since I was speaking French every day, and I feel that I have lost
quite a bit of a skill I always wanted to master. I am usually lost when it comes
to watching French movies or listening to native speakers converse informally
(do we speak English that fast?). I figure I had better get back to it while
I am still arguably young, and what better way to keep my brain fresh and
active? I feel like I have forgotten everything, and I am pretty sure my roommate
is already tired of having to repeat himself. But, it is only the first week. I
have to remind myself to be patient.
How?
How to jazz? This is the question I will be asking myself every day for a
long time. As a classical musician who demands perfection of myself, how am I
going to handle the foreign and variable world of jazz? You can argue that there is no right nor wrong in classical music, only good and bad taste; but the material itself is
invariable. What you are supposed to play is right there in front of you,
printed legibly in your choice of many different editions. It is your
responsibility to make the music come to life. You can infuse it with your own
unique style, phrasing, sound, color, expression, etc. (and yes, the
possibilities are endless). But still,
you will either play the notes right, or you will play them wrong. Keep the
variable elements, but take away the constant. That’s jazz. Sure, there is a
framework of chords and yes, you are given the notes of the tune itself, but all
the real substance of jazz is on you.
Jazz demands a deeper level of listening than classical music. You can get away
with superficial listening in classical music (although, I will argue that the
best classical musicians listen with jazz ears).
So, there you have the technical question of “how”, to which I will be finding the answers over the
next two years. The “how” that I am worried about is more personal.
Vulnerability has always been my least favorite feeling. I
do not like it at all, and I have always tried to avoid it at any cost. During my
last lesson in the U.S. with the incredibly wise and incomparably talented Zach Brock, I was a ball of nerves. He asked me what I am most scared of. I told him
that my nightmare would be that I know less than everyone else at CMDL, that I go blank
during the placement exams, or that I am forced to sight-sing in public (it has been
years), that people will say “And she
has a doctorate?”, and that I will be embarrassed. He just shook
his head and said, “But even if that happens, the worst thing that could come from that would be that you feel
embarrassed.” And it made me realize that I had been looking at this whole thing
all wrong.
Coming from
classical music, I thought my goal should be to get so good at jazz that it is unlikely that I will embarrass myself,
because I am so good at the jazz. But the truth is that the real change and growth comes
not when I get past the point of embarrassing myself, but when I feel
embarrassed and am not debilitated by it. I have to learn from my embarrassment.
Maybe I will even get to a point where I enjoy it.
So, here I go, diving head first into what is likely to be
the most humbling and humiliating experience of my life. And when I mess up,
I will smile. Patience. Ok, c’est parti!
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