Do you remember your first kiss? The first time that you lost someone dear to you? The way you felt when you graduated high school? Do you remember the first concert you ever went to? Do you remember the last concert you went to? Do you remember the song that you danced with your (then) sweetheart to at senior prom? Have you chosen the song that you would like to dance to at your wedding with the love of your life?
As the old cliche goes, "music is the soundtrack to our lives." I defy anyone to think of a monumental moment in their life that did not have music playing in the background, or at the very least a moment that would not have benefited from a song placed at the perfect moment in order to capture the essence of the scenario. You see, music is in our bones. It is the arrangement of the notes of our souls that lead us to live the lives that we do; it is the arrangement of the notes in a symphony that remind our souls what it feels like to be alive.
After receiving an outstanding music education for two years at Berklee College of Music in Boston, I returned home to Southern California where rent and tuition were (supposed to be) cheaper. It was a tough pill to swallow. I felt like a failure. I was back living in my parents' house - in the garage, to be exact, as my paternal grandparents had taken over my old bedroom in order to live with my family, as they could no longer care for themselves - and I had troubles adjusting. I applied to the University of California, Riverside, to finish my degree so that I could start my life as soon as possible.
UC Riverside is truly a fine place to receive an education in various disciplines. One of the exceptions is in music. Granted, I was spoiled by the education I received at Berklee - by professors like: Danny Harrington, John Pierce, John "JT" Thomas, Will Silvio, Dave Fiuczynski, etc. - but the musical experience at Riverside is downright laughable. Still, I resolved myself to get the job done at whatever cost, so I could earn a degree and feel like an educated musician (my thoughts on that later, perhaps in a future post).
I am proud to say that one of the best parts about being a guitarist at UCR is the fact that I play in Bill Helms' Jazz Ensemble. We play great music and we are directed by a great musician, both of which inspire and challenge me and my peers, I am sure.
Last night - 3/5/10 - the Jazz Ensemble had a joint recital with the UCR Wind Ensemble (also lead by Mr. Helms). Because of financial cutbacks to the school and the department of music, we were forced to play in a classroom that seated 65 people at best. Most of the concerts that we have done in the past have been held in a 500 seat theater on campus, with more than half of those seats filled.
Now, it may or may not come as a surprise to anyone reading this blog that most of the tickets to our events our gobbled up by our loyal, rabid, die hard....families, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, grandmothers. You get the point. We musicians in these bands understand that what we're doing doesn't hold a candle to Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock or Miles Davis at Max's Kansas City, but we're still proud to play for whoever will hear us. It's humbling just to think of anyone wanting to watch us perform.
But how can all of our families, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, grandmothers and so on fit into a tiny room that barely holds 65 people, you ask? The short answer is, they can't.
After realizing that we were to play in said classroom as opposed to a concert hall - a fact that many of us were not made aware of until about an hour prior to the start of the show - many of us performers spun into a mad dash to find out how to get the loving, dedicated people who were on their way to watch us play a way to do just that. But it proved to be pointless. The man at the door who was supposed to be helping us that night, proved to turn a cold shoulder at our growing concerns. This is a man on the staff of the UCR Arts Department, and he could visibly care less about our plight.
And what about the responsibility of the institution that we were representing that night? The education that they provide us is supposed to inspire us to reach for goals and dreams, is it not? People go to college in order to enrich themselves on a multitude of levels. We pay with money, hours studying, stressing out and more so that we can reach new personal heights. Rather than lifting us to those new heights, the University of California relegated its loyal students to performing in a classroom. The University of California failed us. They should be ashamed.
But, being the professionals that we are in the process of being trained to be, we soldiered on, put on a smile, and played like hell. We sounded the best I have ever heard the Jazz Ensemble sound. I am sure of this and I am proud of my fellow band members and I applaud all of them for the exceptional job they did. See, it's corny to say this, but the music made us forget all the nonsense. The music did the magical thing that art tends to do and it lifted us above the torment of the moment, no matter how small it may have been. That is the power of art, and that is the power of music.
Too bad many of our loved ones didn't get the chance to see and hear us at our best. They could not experience the power of the music that we played. Perhaps the University of California won't let down their future generations of students. Maybe they will fight for them and hand over the keys to a larger room for a couple of hours. I won't tell. It'll be our little secret.
