Milton Babbitt, 1916-2011

American composer Milton Babbitt died yesterday at the age of 94.
I admit I don't know a ton about him, and I don't listen to a lot of his music, but I do know that his influence on contemporary "art music" has been great. (And we share the same birthday -- May 10.) So I thought today would be a good day to learn some more about Babbitt and why he was known as such a pioneer in several aspects of music. Below is a short article with a nice summary of Babbitt's life and career, followed by a link to an extensive interview of Babbitt that really gives the reader a good sense of what this man was all about.

Avant-Garde Composer, Teacher Milton Babbitt Dies at Age 94: NPR

Milton Babbitt: A Discussion in 12 Parts (Note the index of parts on the right if you want to skip around.)

Make a plan, and stick to it

This may not be an earth-shattering idea, but actually doing it might be something new.

I'm talking about developing a plan and holding to it. Not changing paths on a whim or when things get a little tough. I am talking about sticking to your guns.

I have always been one to give up early. Since I was little and playing with Legos with my older brother Matt. I would come up with some lame concoction that kept me entertained for about 10 minutes, give up and head down to the kitchen for a Swiss Roll, all while Matthew would forego food and restroom breaks for 10 hours, only to emerge from the sea of Legos strewn about the bedroom floor with an incredible piece of art (and a full bladder).

In some ways, I haven't changed much. "That's probably good enough for now," I often think. "I'll do more tomorrow." Or, "I don't want to overdo it. I need to make sure I have time to rest and recover."

When I'm practicing, writing music, or even working out or running, thoughts similar to these bounce around my mind more often than Rex Ryan makes a bold statement.

But I've found a way to turn these thoughts away when they come knocking. First, make a plan. A specific plan, with start and end times and measure numbers and tempos. Details are a must or you won't stick to it. And a mental plan is nice, but a written plan is REAL. Write it down.

Second, stick to the plan! If I said I would practice measures 14-20 from 11:25-noon, then that's what I'm going to do. Even if it's hard. Or even if it seems like I've got it down, and I want to move on. No, I'm going to keep practicing that part until noon. "But it's pretty close. I should probably take a break to check email. Plus I have time tomorrow to solidify it." Sure, but I have time RIGHT NOW to solidify it, too! I will stay on it until noon.

I have found this idea to be incredibly effective and rewarding. In my preparation for the TROMP Percussion Competition in November, I accomplished far more than I ever thought I could in a short time, and it's mostly due to this exact process. And most recently, I finished writing an indoor percussion show in record time, again largely due to sticking to the plan when I didn't really feel like it. And I am pleased with the result, too. (Take a listen to a sample of it here.)

So give it a shot. Write the plan down, and don't let the flaming arrows of those lies shoot you down. Stick to the plan and eventually, you will enjoy the results.

It's okay NOT to be someone else.

How often do we see our friend or colleague pursuing or possessing something and think, "I should be doing that"?

I bet you can think of a time when you felt like you weren't doing enough in your career (or marriage or family or spiritual life) because you saw your buddy succeeding in an area that's not your strong point.

I am here to say, it's okay. You don't have to be just like the guy next door (or in your percussion studio, which is the route I'm taking in this entry). It's okay to be YOU, and to pursue what you believe is right. Don't get me wrong, in percussion, it is highly valuable to be skilled and knowledgeable in many areas of the craft, and I don't mean to make an excuse for working hard to fill empty voids in your or my skillset. I simply mean to say that each person is unique and has a specific purpose or path that is highly individual, and to compare every facet of professional skills and accomplishments can eat away at you.

Maybe it's absolutely best for Colin to pursue a doctorate in music, but that doesn't mean it's best for me to pursue the same. Maybe Mike is a fantastic Latin percussionist, but that doesn't mean I'm a failure as a percussionist because I only know some basics. Maybe while Kyle is tearing up the orchestral scene, I am following a calling to compose music (instead of practicing xylophone excerpts). Kyle is Kyle. I'm not.

Consider the skills you do have. You have a certain set of abilities that makes you YOU, professionally. (Probably some that your colleague doesn't have, too.) So you take what you have, build on it, and fill in weak areas as you go. Don't try to be someone you're not. Again that doesn't mean to quit learning, growing, trying new things, etc.. But walk the path that allows you to best be who you are. Hopefully you'll find that success comes a little more naturally when you're not trying to be someone else.

My dad always said...

My dad always said/says, "You could have played the flute."

This, of course, is his response to seeing or hearing about me moving percussion equipment 3 or 4 or 20 times the amount of time I actually spend playing said equipment. And he's right. I could have played the flute, but then I would have to play the flute! Just kidding, just kidding. It's a joke.

In all seriousness, a huge part of being a percussionist is the responsibility of moving, setting up, tearing down, and maintaining our gear. And today was another wonderful reminder of that fact.

Click here to see the full-size panoramic photo!

I had the opportunity to do a brief interview and partial performance for one of Indy's local TV news stations at the Palladium in Carmel. Along with about 35 other acts, I will be performing in the brand new Palladium concert hall as part of its Take Center Stage event on Saturday, January 22. The Palladium, a $150 million venue, opens to the public on the 22nd, and is stirring up a buzz through many local and regional news outlets.

I got to be a small part of one of those stirrings this morning. As did my 225-pound marimba, which had to be moved and assembled by myself. A total of about 1hr 20min was spent packing and moving the instrument throughout the day (excluding driving) all for about 2-3 minutes of playing. (The man who coordinated this interview saw me tearing down and said, "Gosh, maybe you could have played the flute." True story.) I almost backed out of the interview simply because I didn't want to lug the marimba up there for such a short time. I know it probably seems crazy that I went for it anyway, but I do think it's worth it. Otherwise I wouldn't do it, would I? I may have the opportunity to show people a marimba that have never seen or heard one before. I may encourage someone to come to the event at the Palladium next week who might not have otherwise come. Who knows what may come of it? Maybe nothing much. If nothing else, I got a good workout in!

Please understand, I don't share this to complain or to gain your sympathy. Rather, I hope you might consider some of the decisions you face and what might be holding you back from taking a step forward. I too easily and too often allow inconveniences to stop me from doing what I know ought to be done. In fact, I can be pretty darn lazy and spoiled at times. But when I get up off my butt, and do what needs to be done, I never seem to regret that. I might be exhausted, and maybe the outcome isn't the greatest thing ever, but I did what I knew I should do. I hope you'll do the same: exactly what you know you should do.


(By the way, the piece on the news will air Sunday morning around 7:15AM on WISH-TV.)

I'm a talker.

There have been a lot of little things over the past several weeks and months that have made it abundantly clear:

I'm a talker FAR MORE than I'm a doer.

In every area of my life. I love to hatch a plan, create a scheme, pitch an idea. But the work to make those things reality sucks. And you and I both know talking won't get the job done.

Are you a talker or a doer?

I'm off to work now.

If I could just get that one big break...

Think with me and see if you know anyone like this...

Someone who works hard, maybe trying to make a career in the corporate world, or as a teacher, or in a free-lance profession (art, photography, music). Someone who "pays his/her dues," so to speak, grinding out each day in a job that's not exactly ideal for the long-term. This person tries to do all the right things that people in that career field do to land a good job but is still waiting for that big break.

Then it happens.

You might say it was luck. You might say it was an alignment of the stars. Maybe it was just that person's turn for one reason or another. Whatever your explanation, this person got his/her one big break. The breakthough performance that shot an artist into international fame. The job offer from the best company in their field that is almost too good to be true. The teaching position offer at a great school that's just down the street. "Wow, she is so lucky! Of course it would happen to her. When am I going to get my big break?!"

From an uniformed perspective, sometimes seeing this happen in someone else's life can be disgusting. You think they simply got lucky. "It's not fair," you say to yourself (or out loud).

But take a closer look. While there's no doubt people sometimes get "lucky" in life, a whole bunch of those "big breaks" that people catch in a career path aren't so much one big break, but the culmination of many smaller breaks along the way. And most of the time, it's not luck, but hard work and preparation that led to career success. There is something to be said about being in the right place at the right time, but what good does it do if you're not prepared?

One of my teachers shares a story of how he used to play marimba at a tiny bar in rural Kansas (I know, pretty weird, huh?) one night a week or so. He didn't get paid other than tips and free beverages. He did this for awhile, and one night he was playing a piece by J.S. Bach (again, kind of a funny picture for a bar in my opinion!). A patron enjoyed the piece and asked for another Bach piece. My teacher obliged. Again, the patron with the cowboy hat was pleased. More Bach, please. My teacher wound up playing all the Bach he knew twice through for this local man who couldn't seem to get enough of it.

The man approached the marimbist and said something to the effect of, "I own a recording studio and would like to make a CD of you playing marimba, and we'll split the profits."

What!?!?

So of course he said yes and recorded his first solo album which had a big impact in his career. The first time I heard this story, I thought exactly the thoughts mentioned above. "He's so lucky!"

But then I thought more about this peculiar story. First of all, he was lugging that giant instrument to a tiny bar once a week to play for no pay. And once he got there, he had to play something, so that means he had to know or be able to read a huge amount of music. And he likely wouldn't have impressed this man who approached him unless he played at a high level.

There are several things to learn from this. One, clearly the marimbist had put hours and hours of hard work in to be able to perform each week at a high level. He was prepared. Two, though I don't know the details, I bet you could trace back before this night and see a few small opportunities (or "breaks") that led to that point. Three, while the CD recording was successful and helped propel his career forward, it, too, was another break along the way.

So for those of us waiting for our big break, maybe we ought to just focus on the small opportunities we have, put all the effort we can into each one, and one day we'll look back and see how all the small breaks added up to the success we hoped for in the one big break.

Happy New Year!

I know many of us say something like this every year, but I'll say it again.

Wow, it's 2011 already!? That sounds so futuristic! Two thousand eleven. Weird. No more 2010. Good-bye twenty-ten!

We know that a new year will bring changes of all sorts. We don't know exactly what, but we know that changes will come in our lives.

I must say I am definitely a fan of change in many ways. I used to rearrange my room in high school and college at least once a year (always at the new year), sometimes more. It would create the sense of being in a new place, and I love the feeling of being in new places. It brings a freshness to my life that helps invigorate me. Rearranging my bedroom would give me something else to think about when I'd come home from a boring or mind-numbing class to a recently altered setup. "Oh yeah, I changed my setup! How fun!" A nice feeling.

But do you wanna know something about that feeling? It never lasted long. A week or two would go by and the change was nearly forgotten already. It wouldn't take long before I felt like I might want to change something again. It wasn't sustainable.

So what's really the root issue here? The search for a feeling. Even the search for an escape. I want to feel excited about the new year. I want to feel like everything is going to be different this year. I often love change because it brings a sense of hope, of newness, but more often than not, those feelings are grounded on nothing more than rearranged furniture.


Not exactly where I want my foundation of hope to be.

I want something sustainable. I want to walk on solid ground and know that even though life will bring me all sorts of challenges, trials, ups and downs, I can be joyful and confident in my future. I want to be sure of something. I don't want to have to rearrange my living room to feel a sense of newness and hope. (By the way, there is nothing wrong with rearranging your living room!)

And "rearranging your living room" could take whatever form in your life. Finding a new girlfriend/boyfriend. Getting rid of my perfectly good car for a nicer, new one. Buying those stylish new clothes that my roommate wears that I can't really afford or don't need. Getting my hands on the newest gadget that will surely make my life simpler (pardon the sarcasm). Trying to be someone I'm not so others will look at me with approval.

So as we dive into this new year, I hope you consider where your hope is found. As for me, I will place my trust and my hope and my future of this year and all that follow in the person and the work of Jesus Christ, my savior. Because he took my place and died for my sins so I don't have to, he showers me with his approval. I don't need the approval of others, because my Creator calls me his beloved child! He is the Rock and the solid ground I desire and need. He offers me life, peace, and joy. He gives me all the hope I need. And it's sustainable hope. And as for newness and change? As I seek to know Him more, I discover something new all the time. He is endless, and a humble seeker never gets tired of walking with God. Following Christ is anything but boring!

Wishing you a new year filled with true hope and joy that last an eternity!