Bone-Headed Perceptions About Musicians
Since I’m pretty new to this blogging business, I’m going to write a ‘listicle’ to work on my writing skills and said as much to my husband, Dan. “What’s a listicle?” says he, sitting in the passenger seat of my car after a shopping trip. I respond that, as I understand it, it is an article based on a list of or about something, intended to be humorous or thought-provoking. He replies, “Well, if you’re practicing your blogging skills, wouldn’t that be a ‘testicle?'” While I spluttered he blinked twice and said, “I’m asking for a friend.”
Ok.
Here, with some help from a few insider friends, is a compendium of misperceptions that non-musicians and amateurs have about our profession. All true stories, I promise.
Weird Notions About Musicians’ Jobs
Music is easy.
This came, terse and without hesitation, from an old friend who has played trombone in local symphonies for years. The dedication to the daily grind is enormous. If you’re not hustling, you’re not playing. You belong to every Facebook group page that troll for musicians. You get back immediately if someone sends you inquiry, even if you’re driving to a gig in your car while eating a sandwich. If you don’t someone else will get it. Your taxes are a nightmare and you have to have them done for you because they’re just too damn complicated. When you’re looking for a place to live, first consideration is your neighbors and whether they’ll put up with your noise. And this doesn’t even take into consideration the dedicated time for practice to keep up your chops. Jascha Heifetz is known for his quote: “If I don’t practice one day, I know it; two days, the critics know it; three days, the public knows it.” You gotta do it or you die.
Music isn’t easy. For a pro, it’s life or death.
Music is math, therefore musicians are good at math.
I had to complete an algebra credit before I could graduate from high school. I had absolutely no aptitude nor comprehension of a system that somehow incomprehensibly mixes numbers and letters — and with my dyslexia, neither were particularly friendly to me as separate entities to begin with. My brother tried to tutor me which was a really bad idea.
My mom, who was teaching English at my school at the time, stepped in and persuaded the principal to facilitate that credit. I was an honors student in the fast track, after all. So I was enrolled into a remedial algebra class for dummies which gave me the credit I needed. The teacher was amazing but did I finally understand any of it? Not a whit, nor do I to this day, so don’t even bother to try. I think I passed with a C, which brought my 3.9 down a 3.5, but I got into college all right.
But the music/math conflation is really this: music is actually not math, and math skills are not required. The connection between time signature and math is specious, and while understanding the concept of groupings of beats involves counting, it’s really more about what your body feels — not math. What’s going on in music is about how the brain fires — not like the image above — but more about neurological connections: synapses.
The brain on music involves a very complex set of responses including visual/spatial, linear, and fine motor skills. Strong executive functioning, simplistically defined as the ability to switch gears quickly, are critical to music. Not so with math which is linear — you mostly have to understand the theorems. Yes, understanding patterns (geometry) and parsing rhythms (breaking down numerical values) are part of musical learning, but also interpersonal and social skills, internal rhythm and proprioception, hand-eye coordination and fast muscle response. So, stop saying that I must be good at math. It really is that I’ve trained my brain to execute some very high level skills, some of which are also used in math.
That’s my experience and opinion based on years and years of being a musician. All you math geeks, bring it on.
Musicians are radios.
The idea that musicians can perform any style or any song upon demand is nuts and one of my all-time pet peeves. I’ve encountered this one in my career a million times, from the guy at the Art Show who wanted me to add Guns and Roses to my request repertoire to the request for Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, also during cocktail hour. Whether it’s Heavy Metal or a full symphony, the piano just doesn’t cut it. I’ll smile and play the opening notes to the fifth, or I’ll ask them to hum a few notes of their heavy metal tune and play it back. That usually satisfies them, since they’re drunk already, and I get my tip.
A good friend of mine and old high school buddy writes this: “I was walking through a crowd on St. Patrick’s Day heading for a session and carrying my mandolin. A couple of drunks confronted me, demanding a tune. When I told them I was in a hurry they got belligerent. ‘It will only take a minute! It’s easy for you!, etc.’ I played a quick tune and left in a hurry.”
St. Patrick’s Day aside, where are people’s manners? It’s really a big boundary intrusion to have someone demand a completely inappropriate piece of music that clearly and obviously is not something you can reproduce given the time and circumstances. And it’s harrassment when those demands become angry. Look, I’m there to show you a good time, so don’t f**k with me.
But there’s the softer side of this issue as well. When fronting my Happy Feet Dance Orchestra years ago, an early jazz band that played music from the 1920’s, I’ve had people request tunes by the Beatles or modern jazz tunes. Either way, we were a repertory orchestra that performed a specific period of music and we clearly advertised as such. Learn your history and listen up, folks!
Musicians don’t need to be paid.
Yo trabajo con amor y arte, pero no por amor al arte. I work with love and art, but not for the love of art.
The idea that musicians don’t need to be paid comes with this justification: We love what we do, right? When I asked for stories from friends, this was one of the main gripes that came up: stay an extra set (for free), oh, just play one more hour. Most egregious: getting those calls from people doing a fundraiser that try to tell you you’re doing it “for a good cause.” Sure, I’ll play for free if I support the cause, but otherwise, damn it, you’re paying me because I’m helping you raise money for your cause. And lastly, the old refrain: “But you’re getting exposure.” Yeah, says another folk guitarist friend who has been playing in clubs for decades, “I could die of exposure.” We love our audiences and want to please you. And you love our music. Just don’t conflate love with the necessity of making a living.
I did a big wedding reception with Happy Feet, my jazz band, in about 1992. This was for big money in the day, so we really prepared for the big show. There were probably 250+ guests, salmon and steak tartare buffet, liquor flowing like Niagra Falls, a horse and buggy and a bagpiper, strolling musicians, and a big band playing for the dancers — namely us. When it was all over, I asked for the check and was told it was in the mail. It never came. When I sent a lawyer after them I was told they would settle up soon (it never happened) but that the bride thought that because we were having so much fun we didn’t really need to be paid. The couple disappeared off the face of the earth within three months and folks around her town said they had split up. And we also weren’t the only people who got stiffed ’cause there were a lot of angry folks around Littleton. But the bride’s lousy excuse still rankles.
Music just emanates from us like magic or some other incomprehensible bulls**t.
People forget that musicians really work to develop their skills, facility and flexibility. But the idea that I can nimbly play any song to sound like the original, highly processed, overdubbed and dolbyized hit to the hilt is ridiculous. Weirdly enough, where I often feel the rub is at church.
People at church really want the music to coincide with their spiritual experience and I’m completely committed to that. The role of church music is to support the message of the day, to match or augment scripture, to supplement the sermon, to explore in depth the readings, to aid in attaining a meditative state of mind. These days, choices of music are very broad, from great old standards (God So Loved the World by John Stainer) to wonderful gospel (I love almost anything from Rollo Dillway or Mark Hayes) to contemporary (On Eagle’s Wings by Michael Joncas or Here I Am by Dan Schutte) to that most contentious of all church music: Praise.
I’m not going in depth about Praise music because it deserves lengthy exploration, but for some reason this style of music is the go-to music of choice for people making requests of their beleaguered Music Director. Three points give you my state of mind: 1) the music is written for bands, so it doesn’t translate well to piano or organ, 2) published sheet music for said music is very sparse at best, rife with hideous engraving infractions and so poorly written that it is nearly unplayable, unreadable and unsingable except by the original artist, 3) therefore, covering it is a nightmare for most Music Directors because unless we have an active, rehearsing Praise Band at the church we will never sound anywhere close to the original recording.
Look, a choir made up of mostly senior citizens is going sound awkward, embarrassed, and rhythmically clunky, therefore disappointing the congregation who want nothing more than to stand there, eyes closed, palms raised and swaying to the music. So aside from the many, many reasons Praise is contentious, those are the ones that make me look to the heavens when someone at church asks for something by Twila Paris.* I’m in a horrible quandary between doing something that I know won’t sound good, and wishing I could yell at them: “WTF, you think I can just play anything and make it sound like the top hit that sends you into ecstasy to on youtube???” You see, beloved parishioner, it’s not the music, but the expectation.
And another thing: a organist friend at another church helped a grieving wife plan a memorial service for her deceased husband. He spent hours kindly and patiently going over all the possible music selections, including song tributes and hymns with the bereaved. She wanted a soloist to sing a particular song, so he hired a soloist and planned out all the rest of the music well in advance of the service. The organist and the soloist practiced together and sounded great. The day before the service the wife called to tell him to fire the soloist, that her best friend was going to sing, and by the way, she was changing all the hymns and wanted different music for the Prelude and Postlude. Head spinning from having the channel suddenly changed, he didn’t want to confront her at such a difficult time in her life. The soloist lost income (there was no contract) and the organist had to stumble through new music simply because the client had no idea of what was involved in the preparation of an important service for her husband.
Musicians are servants there to do your bidding.
Often this is true. When we’re hired to do a wedding or funeral, to play requests at a cocktail bar, we are there to do your bidding. But combine the heady power of making a musician into your servant with all the other misperceptions (we are radios, we’re magically talented, etc.) you have a world of hurt.
A good friend is a soloist-for-hire who has done many weddings and has also served as a church wedding planner has this story:
“From the moment the bride contacted the church about her wedding, I could see there would be trouble and I was quickly proved correct. When asked about her music choices she said she intended to use her iPad. When the Minister said that pre-recorded music was against policy, she said she had a friend that plays guitar. We explained patiently: our church has a right-of-first-refusal policy that guarantees the organist income from weddings and funerals, so we told her that she while she could have her friend play, our organist would still have to be paid under his contract. At that point she finally consented to listen to some numbers. The organist was brought into the discussion and he went over a wide range of musical choices, including contemporary and traditional wedding music. She said: ‘Don’t you have anything from this century?’ The organist asked her what she meant by ‘this century.’ She replied that she and her fiancé wanted to play recordings of a mix of some themes from their favorite movies, rap and R&B tunes. This was refused and she stormed out.”
Just to report, I haven’t felt like the little French Maid I depicted above since I was about 25, but I think back on all the high end gigs I’ve done in the past where I’ve had to come in through the kitchen, or the wedding where the guests were trolling the long table of endless delicacies and we were sitting on the grass eating tuna sandwiches. From that comes the joke about being issued a raincoat with rubber pockets when you get your union card.
The life of a musician is glamorous and fun.
My work is a job. If I were a lineman having to work outside in all kinds of weather, I still have to go out and do it. If I were a farmer having to go out to tend the animals in a blizzard, it has to be done. In the winter my hands dry out like everyone else’s and my fingers crack no matter how much I slather on the lotion. I still have to practice because I have gigs and church services.
Sometimes it is glamorous. But when I’m up there on the podium in my tux, I have to put 200% concentration on conducting that symphony or relating to the audience. Or, back in the days of my jazz band, I’d be wearing sequins and made up like a diva, but I still have to play those solos perfectly, scope out the audience to hype up the mood, emcee the flow of the set while I lead the band. It’s a job.
Thirty years ago I had a second trimester miscarriage. Very sad, but it happens. I wept for weeks after, and couldn’t look at babies on shopping trips without tearing up for years. The day after the miscarriage, I had a gig with Happy Feet to play a well attended, high exposure gig for WGBH studios in Allston. With my obgyn’s approval I made the gig, because I was leading the band, not because of lost pay. I would have been paid even if I hadn’t been there, but there was no one to replace my role as pianist and front person on such short notice, so I did it. But I have to tell you, it was really tough to keep up a good front on that one. Not a glamorous time.
Here are a few others I’m adding without a lot of fanfare:
- A musician can only be considered successful if he/she has a major hit.
- Classical musicians are otherworldly geniuses completely out of touch with real people and classical music has nothing to do with “normal” people.
- People who play so-called “popular” forms of music don’t read music.
- People who play jazz absolutely can’t (and probably shouldn’t) read music.
Obviously, we are just one profession of many who have to put up with odd requests and misperceptions. Medical professionals, artists, photographers, farmers and lineworkers, teachers and sex workers, preachers and carpenters — they all have their stories of woe. But I hadn’t seen many stories from musicians on a public media site, so this was fun to reach out to friends and get their stories and share some of my own.
I’ll bet you, dear readers, have some of your own and I hope you share them too.
* I don’t dislike Twila Paris. She’s very attractive and has a nice singing voice. Some of her songs are not too awful either. “He Is Exalted” is nice, if shallow.
Commonwealth Orchestra Outreach Project 