A Jazz State of Mind

I have exactly one month before I march myself onstage in Paris to compete against 99 amazing pianists from all corners of the world. This will be my second time participating. And to prepare, I've signed myself up to perform in a public master class this coming Friday, a run through in a cool performance space that I have rented out this weekend, holding a house concert the following weekend and performing at a fundraising gala in a few weeks.

All of this to get my jitters out. And trust me, I have jitters. Still a month to go and I'm already nervous. Neurotically nervous. I'm drinking my green juices every day, avoiding foods that upset my system, making sure to get 7 - 8 hours of sleep each night. I'm working yoga back into my routine, walking daily (gotta fit into those dresses!) and already having erratic memory slips when I play for the dog and cat. I'm not just nervous. I'm nervous about being nervous. It is ridiculous!

So tonight, to take a break, we went to go hear our amazing friend Bruce Barth perform with a jazz quintet at the Village Vanguard in NYC. Bruce is an amazing jazz pianist who used to be Tony Bennet's pianist. A true pro. I was stopped in my tracks tonight when he came up to our table right before he went on stage, with a huge smile on his face and a glass of scotch in his hand.

SCOTCH!!?!?!?!?! For real? And just like that, he and his ensemble took the stage, cool as cucumbers and absolutely crushed it. And I mean crushed it. These guys are jazz virtuosos and seemed to have a blast when they played.

So I decided, I need to get into a jazz state of mind.

And that got me thinking. How and when did classical music get so snooty and persnickety and judgy? (I know - I'm walking into the most judgy situation possible) - but still......maybe just maybe my mind set is all wrong.

I have a theory. Once upon a time, the art of classical performance was much like today's jazz. Improvisatory in it's pre-recording era. So the music was fleeting. Magic-in- the-moment. And I would imagine, the performers enjoyed it more. And there was rapport between them and the audience. Then we began memorializing music through recordings. And while recordings are amazing and it is a blessing to have all of these inspiring performances on demand, it also can set up impossible standards to compare ourselves against.

So much so, that I remember being in a music history class in college. And we were listening to Debussy. And the professor played us a very scratchy recording of one of the Debussy Preludes. We all looked at each other and made faces, saying that the pianist got it all wrong. But it was all of us who were wrong. The pianist was Debussy himself. True Story.

So maybe, just maybe I have to stop comparing myself to the giants that I revere and stop trying to get my Scriabin to sound like Horowitz's recording or obsessing over the recording of my Moskoswki etude played by Horacio Gutierrez (which is truly amazing btw), and follow the wise (paraphrased) words of Stravinsky:

Learn from the masters. Digest, all they have to teach you. Then, reach into the depths of your soul and pull out your own voice.

And maybe, just maybe, (minus the scotch), I can have fun and create an amazing and loving experience between me, the music and my audience and play more like a jazz musician.