It's only in my final year of being a music major that I fully realize all of the things I needed throughout my pursuit of this degree. There's nothing quite like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel to make you stop and reflect on everything you've been through as a musician. Now, I'm not saying that we all live the life of Andrew Neiman from "Whiplash" (although sometimes it feels like it). But more often than not, we get caught up in the whirlwind of being working musicians, full-time students, and real people with real lives, that we don't stop just because we need to practice. We need to be reminded of the important things in life, like how necessary it is that we take showers regularly, or that we really need to take a break. If you or someone you know is a music major, here's a list of things we all need to hear.
"Have you written that paper yet?"
Earth to musician. Come in, musician. Don’t forget about those core classes! Read that book in Brit Lit, go to Stats lab, write that paper for State and Local Gov. I know. Those classes are the worst. But they’re even worse the second time around. (or the third!)
"When was the last time you took a shower?"
No, your violin doesn’t care what you smell like, but the person using that practice room after you does. So wash your hair. Use hot water. AND SOAP. You might want to pick up that toothbrush as well.
"They aren’t paying you enough."
Generally speaking, musicians are giving souls. We want as many people as possible to experience music the way we do and we’re willing to do whatever it takes to make sure it happens. Sometimes that means doing something for less money than we deserve. We often get caught up in doing people favors. We play that underpaid Christmas Eve gig for our Aunt’s church. We accompany our high school’s Men’s Choir for free at UIL because we’re alum (and also straight up suckers for that high school pride). We teach a family friend’s granddaughter practically free saxophone lessons because her parents “aren’t sure that it’s something they’re willing to totally invest in, just yet.” When we take a gig, we need to be paid for our services. This includes the private lessons that we “totally invested in” for the last 12 years, the top of the line bassoon that we took out a student loan for in order to make the down payment, and the gas that we put in our run down lemon that makes a knocking sound when it drops below fifty degrees outside. It’s our duty to ourselves and our friends that we make sure we’re getting paid...and that we get paid ON TIME. “Sorry, I can’t go out tonight. I still haven’t gotten paid for the last two months of teaching marching band.”
"Take a break."
Go home. You need a break. Camping out in the practice room for eight or nine hours a day, seven days a week isn’t healthy. Seriously. Go warm up some ramen, turn on Netflix, and be quiet for a little while. Maybe even…dare I say it? Take a nap! Don’t forget who you are. You are more than a piano player. You cannot live simply off of your piano sounds.
"That wasn’t good enough."
“Nope. Try again. You’re not playing all the notes in that run. You’re completely blowing through that Db.” “The right notes that aren’t in tune, are wrong notes.” “No. Please don’t start the crescendo until beat three! READ THE MUSIC.” “With a little talent this time.” We’re studying music with the ultimate goal of becoming masters at our craft. Don’t let yourself be ok with mediocrity. Do it or don’t do it. Stop wasting our time.
"I still like you."
"Yeah, you folded on your jury. You might be taking your barrier for the second time. That totally sucks. But I still like you. I still want to spend time with you. You’re still the same person that you were before you fell on your face in front of the entire brass faculty. I still like you." I suffered from crippling performance anxiety when I as in public school. I was such a people-pleaser that I thought that when I performed poorly, my value as a human diminished. I thought that people wouldn’t like me if I made a mistake. Nope. Not true at all. Once I figured out that people are judging the musician, not the human, I was a much happier, and mentally healthy, person. Let’s say it together... “I still like you.”
