The Importance of Gl0rbus

A normal summer evening. As the sun descends, the purple hues reflect onto the windows of my neighbours as I sit on my balcony scrolling on instagram. My friend sends me a video. 

At first, it is a seemingly normal jazz vocabulary lesson; a man sitting at a piano teaching the audience about what to play over so-and-so and whatever. Soon, though, the video fries itself and transforms into chaos, weird images flashing quickly before landing on images of strange sim-like 3D models of modern jazz legends; Wynton Marsalis, Emmet Cohen, BB3. 

My friend sends me more and more videos following the same formula all from the same account, entitled Gl0rbus. I was overjoyed, honestly, that such a strange content creator happened to have the same interest as us, and was making content for such a niche audience. I felt inside on a joke, I felt invited to the party. I followed the account. 

Gl0rbus, never revealing their identity, would post frequently and impulsively. Quickly everyone in my inner circle became aware of the account and started keeping an eye on it. Soon after, Gl0rbus’ motives became clearer. The people he chose to satirize were not random; Gl0rbus was calling them out. 

There is a history of abuse and predatory behaviour in almost every subgenre of music. Take male professors, male producers, any man with success and regardless of profession or style, chances are he was (at the least) inappropriate with someone down the line. When you contextualize it into a genre that relies heavily on mentorship, close interpersonal relationships between players, and paying your dues, no one should be surprised that jazz musicians are kinda weird sometimes. 

I’ve been a jazz musician for around 3 years, and I know this truth having only met a handful of lesser known players. It’s no secret that fame can change a person, or that having endless praise and fawning can go to your head. If you take a musician who is already an ego-maniac and blow them up, it's almost more of a story if they don't take advantage of someone. Gl0rbus knows this and Gl0rbus is tired of the silence around it. Gl0rbus has been observing quietly for years and is using their shit-posting to get the word out: Emmet Cohen and Benny Bennack III are predators. 

All it took was a quick look into the accounts they were following. Strange for men in their mid-thirties to be following random girls that are clearly still in high school, no? Interesting for them to answer every comment left by young girls on their post, regardless of if he knows them personally, asking them to come see him next time he’s in their city. Soon, women began privately messaging Gl0rbus, testifying about their strange interactions with these musicians. It became the entire ethos of the account. It became a page dedicated to mocking, satirizing, yet also very seriously calling for the exposure of famous jazz musicians. 

This went on for a week or so. Then came the rebranding. 

Gl0rbus changed their username to Funnyjazzmemes, and began posting 2013-style common jazz jokes, about only calling autumn leaves or how difficult giant steps is. It took me a second to recognize Gl0rbus through this facade but the spirit shone through. This was only to preserve the account, as the news was getting back to Emmet Cohen, to BB3, and they were trying to take measures into their own hands. 

More testimonials, more callouts, more memes posted onto the stories. My friends and I are now closely following as events play out. Benny Benack posts a video and as I check the comments, I see a young singer I know, no older than 18, comment in praise of him. His reply “I will be in your city soon!”. 

The last story I saw Gl0rbus post was a screenshot of a legal document from Benny Benack’s lawyer, calling for the takedown of the posts, the allegations, the account, if not, legal action will be taken. The account was deleted, as were all of the posts, the memes, the callouts. A whisper into the wind. A speck of dirt under the rug. 

I am not sure what the so-called protocol is anymore. There are people that I know that have been publicly called out, for being predatory, weird with women, coercive, that are still loved and employed by this city’s music scene. I ask myself if it's possible for them to change. Logically I know that public ostracization and humiliation is not the way to rehabilitate people into being better humans. I know that forgiveness and humility go a long way, but emotionally, I believe anyone who hurts a child deserves to be murdered. 

Cancel culture is nothing. It is so nothing that people don't even speak about it anymore. It doesn’t work, how could it ever, with a name so stupid? People used to get stoned in the village square and now the ramifications for pedophilia are an angry social media post. Get real! 

As consumers of art, the people we choose to listen to, to see in concert, to idolize, are people that we are putting in power. All that I, all that Gl0rbus, is asking is to think critically as to who we metaphorically elect. My friends that are jazz musicians are some of the most sensitive, introspective and beautiful people that I have ever met, yet they can also be horribly narcissistic, obsessive and power-hungry. It is simply what it is to create art completely, maybe, to sacrifice the soul. 

I miss Gl0rbus. I pray for their return.

My Hatred of Cocktail Gigs

Perhaps it is a fate we are all, as musicians, forced to accept:  the economy we threw ourselves is a small circle. As the need for jazz musicians dwindles, it becomes an increasing source of dread for our musical minds. Is there a way to make money here? How can I survive like this? 

The answer for most is either teaching or cocktail gigs. The first time I ever played a cocktail gig I was in shock; I had never made so much for so little artistic effort. As a drummer, if anything, I played far less and far quieter than usual, so much so that I might as well not have been there, yet I was making more from this than any passion project I had ever been hired for. It seemed ironic almost, the time I spent practicing my eighth note swing only to have them disappear into the background, for my cymbal to sound less clear, more like a distant atmosphere. 

Cocktail gigs make me want to rip my hair out, if i'm being honest. The first couple times are exciting, sure. Getting to dress up all nice and loading into fancy venues and pretending to be a professional. Seeing the guest file into the room and look at you, impressed; “oh wow, they even have entertainment!” Feeling like you're part of something greater and a hell of a lot more expensive than you. 

The upside of cocktail gigs is the leniency it gives you to overcharge for your services. Typically, the people running the event will not have their thumbs on the pulse of what the going rate is for musicians. This means that when you bring up your rate, you can and mostly always should ask for more than you're used to receiving. Either they will agree to it or they’ll negotiate back down to something that is still acceptable and dignifiable. They might also offer you food and drink that you otherwise couldn't ever afford. 

You mustn't forget, though, that you are there to work. You are not part of the elite listeners, and you are not part of the events staff. You belong in a strange purgatory where certain liberties are afforded to you and others not. I have played gigs from 7-10 pm during dinner services where the band was not once offered food. I have played gigs during a reception where afterwards, we were seated and given a 3-course meal alongside the guests. 

I once played a cocktail gig at a famous Montreal landmark in September. It was a fundraiser for women’s cancers and they requested an all female trio, one which I was able to piece together easily. The gig was from 6:30-9, and I had negotiated $200 for each musician, as well as food. We, of course, were expected to bring our own gear and set up before the event, take down once it was over. 

A week before the gig, they told me that because the event was in the old port, the service road necessary for me to take in order to drop off my drum kit would only be open until 8am the morning of, so I would need to drop everyone's gear off during that window of time if I was thinking of driving (as a drummer, I was in fact thinking of driving). That rainy Tuesday morning I drove my drum kit as well as my bassist and her gear to the old port, met with the Australian manager of the location, and dropped off our gear in their locked offices for the day. I was to return to soundcheck 8 hours later that day. 

My pianist was a bit late with her keyboard and two music stands and so when she met up with me, she was in a hurry to get back to school and be on time for her class. I told her not to worry about it; I would walk it (a good 10 minute walk) to the rest of the gear and she could go. Right as she left, the train siren blared. 

The manager told me it was bad news; we couldn't exactly say how long the train would be passing for. This was not a regular passenger train. This was cargo, and lots of it, and I was stuck on the other side, on this cold, rainy, Tuesday morning. The train passed and then stopped all of a sudden, then reversed slightly before stopping again. And it stayed there. For 45 minutes. I waited, with the gear, for 45 minutes (too much gear for me to walk around the train by myself). 

So it wasn’t a great morning. That was also the morning I knocked my nose piercing out, so just a bummer all around. When I got back to the venue for soundcheck, around 5:30pm, I met the event organizer who I had been contacting through email for the last 6 months. He told us to start playing 30 minutes before the agreed upon start time, and gave us a schedule that totaled us playing 1 hour more than we had agreed on. 

The event was catered by a well-known Montreal chef and I was excited to try the food, as they mentioned we would be fed. But the food offered to us was boxed red-slab-pizza and 2 day old chocolatines, with à complimentary flute of champagne. 

During our second set, we noticed the guests getting rowdier, surely a product of the open bar. They were dancing and speaking and laughing loudly as we played, definitely not hearing how killing we were sounding on Softly. Soon, people began yelling, and I meekly stopped playing, assuming a fight was breaking out. We looked over at the MC, who looked just as confused as us. A man was having a heart attack, we soon found out. 

Luckily for him, a cocktail event full of doctors is perhaps the best place possible to have a heart attack, second only to the ER. He was laid down, his feet elevated as a circle of doctors swarmed around him speaking medical jargon. What a day I was having. Then, as the man was still lying on the floor, the MC turned to us and wagged her finger: “keep playing!”. 

We played How Insensitive. 

After the event was done, after we all got home, the two other women in the band texted me to say that they felt like the pay wasn't enough for all the time we spent there. I told them I agreed; I had spent close to 2 hours at the break of dawn, and then around 5 and a half during the actual event. I tried to negotiate again, and was only able to get us 50$ more each. Not terrible, but my nose piercing fell out, man. A man almost died! Whatever. 

I find it hard to complain about gigs. There will always be a musician around the corner saying: “You should just be grateful that you're busy playing! Any gig is a good gig.” Shut up. I will complain all I want. No one makes me wait in the rain. Of course that was not my most recent cocktail gig nor will it be one of my last. I will probably play cocktail gigs until I die, like all of my teachers still do. Perhaps I will learn to love them the way my peers and superiors seem to have done. Perhaps I will simply learn to mitigate my anger more effectively. 

Are drums the easiest instrument?

Being a jazz musician is a strange experience. It is strange to tell random people what you study in school, and to see their faces change, maybe even hear their chuckle. It's something that one could either rejoice in or feel condescended by. People will almost always either think that you’re courageous and brave, or that it’s cute. Then to proceed to say, “yeah, drums. I’m a jazz drummer.”

As a woman, you see their faces change again, from indifference or condescension to perverted interest. Sometimes you see genuine admiration and appreciation, but there's always an initial “really?!” before they can believe you, because no one would ever assume. 

But this is not to talk about the plight of women in jazz. This is to answer a question I've been asked and been witness to countless times, with an answer I've flip-flopped on for a while : compared to other instruments in jazz, aren’t drums the easiest? 

First, let's establish what it means to be an “easy” instrument or a “hard” instrument. Most instruments fall into certain categories, mainly being melodic, harmonic, rhythmic. Each of these categories come with their roles and responsibilities in order to play a song. Melodic  instruments must carry the melody and then solo, therefore they must learn the form and the changes as well as the melody. Harmonic instruments must learn the changes and the form, while also being apt at comping. Rhythmic instruments, mainly just the drums or auxiliary percussion, must keep the time and learn the form, but it is not necessary for them to know/play the melody or have the changes memorized. 

Looking at it in this objective and almost scientific manner points to a clear answer: within the jazz context, playing the drums is the easiest load to bear. 

I’ll concede that I have often gone to jam sessions and played on tunes I didn’t really know. All it takes is asking “32 bars, AABA?” and any apt drummer will be able to sound half-decent. Is this being a good musician, though? Is this honoring the art of jazz? Absolutely not. When I play tunes I know very well, well enough to sing the melody accurately, I sound far better (of course). Many of the best drummers will in fact take it upon themselves to bear the load of the other categories, learning the melody and the harmony before saying “yeah, let’s do that one, I know it”. Almost anyone can tell when a piano player doesn’t really know the tune, but usually only musicians can tell when a drummer is faking it. So, maybe drums aren’t the easiest, because in order to sound really good you must learn the tune inside and out the way every other instrument does. But being a drummer, and being taught that you only have to care about bar numbers, makes it very easy to be lazy, therefore it might be the instrument that requires some of the most dedication and discipline. 

Technically speaking, many people revere drummers for their prowess. This is certainly due to all four limbs being employed, the musicians needing complete isolation of each in order to play proficiently. Drumming (as well as upright bass playing and larger horn playing) also proves to be a more physical playing experience, where physical endurance becomes part of the equation (Think Neiman playing until his hands bleed and until he's covered head to toe in sweat). But all instruments should be thought of as physical extensions of the body, so I do not believe people consider the physical aspect of playing when they argue that drumming is the easiest. 

When I was in Cegep, I had a conversation (surprisingly) with a guitarist about progressing as a musician in different instruments. What he said was that “ it is easy to be an average drummer, but extremely difficult to be amazing. For guitarists, it's hard to be average, but once you're there, the road to excellence is not as steep”. I’ve thought about this a lot through the years, and although we weren't talking strictly about jazz, I think it's important to consider the different roles of instruments before we compare “easiness”. In a way, drums are the easiest instrument to “fake” in jazz, but that can only last you so long in any self-respecting scene. So when I tell people that I study jazz, yes, I am a drummer, and they ask “isn’t that the easiest one?” I say “not if you're good.”

If you are a drummer, maybe focusing on melodies and harmonic forms rather than chops will be the key to take your playing to the next level. If you are not a drummer, tell your drummer you love them and give them a hug. They all need one.

In Defense of Chazelle pt.1

Around half of the people in my life are jazz musicians. The others, friends I've collected through the years in multiple contexts, know me as wearing a couple different hats. Perhaps they know me through work, or through social media, or through high school. These people that are separate from jazz provide a beautiful balance to my life, friends that enjoy my company purely because our personalities are compatible, not just because they enjoy the way I swing. Friends that will stick by me even if I play a bad solo or mess up the shots in the outhead. 

However, as most of them do not know the intricacies of the jazz world, upon hearing about my profession I am doomed to hear the same question: “Have you seen Whiplash?”

There is this notion amongst jazz musicians that whiplash is not a valid jazz movie. It does not accurately portray what jazz academia is like and it gives the general public an alienating view of us. a lot of jazz musicians, then, say that Whiplash is a bad movie. The same is often said of La La Land, Damien Chazelle's second film, which also features a jazz musician as a main character. Jazz musicians do not like the jazz that is represented in Damien Chazelle's movies. I however disagree. I love it. 

When I was 15 my family took a summer vacation to croatia. We stayed on a small island called Split, and we were there in mid-August during a heatwave. The main thing to do there is swim and explore, but my family could hardly stand being outside for longer than 10 minutes, the Mediterranean sun melting us and making us irritable. So I stayed in my room quite a bit, watching movies. 

I was getting into music that summer, playing a lot of guitar and bass. I had discovered that there is music education outside of high school and the thought of being a professional musician was creeping slowly into my mind. So I watched Whiplash, the movie about the jazz drummer suffering tireless abuse within jazz academia. I knew then and there I would be a jazz drummer.

I learned once i began taking music seriously that most musicians really dislike Whiplash. When I was trying to fit in, I'd just laugh and say “yeah, you're right, it's so unrealistic and stupid. Obviously a teacher would never do that”. But through the years, as I've sharpened my critical eye and just simply become smarter, I've realized all the traits that musicians hate about this film are the traits that make it an excellent piece of cinema. 

Firstly, everyone seems to think that Whiplash is a jazz movie. It is not. It is a war movie, with jazz as its context. So yes, there are faults in the small details : 1. The entire socialization aspect of jazz school is missing, but this is purposeful, to reinforce his isolation. 2. At the end of the film, Neiman is caught off guard when Fletcher calls a tune he doesn't have the chart for. a drummer who not only was accepted to the “best conservatory in the country” but was also selected for the best studio band within that conservatory would easily be able to catch the hits and the structure and fake it relatively well. 3. No drummer will ever have to know exactly what a tempo marking is. That is what the conductor is for. 4. The entire double time swing section. I have never heard a more confusing double time swing in my life.

 But once “jazz” is reduced to a plot device, the work is to be done mainly through the interpersonal relationship between Neiman and Fletcher, because after all, that is what the movie is about. It's also important to note that Chazelle himself was a jazz drummer, and the movie is loosely based off of his relationship with his teacher, but in HIGH SCHOOL. Of course the “jazz knowledge” is shallow, he was still a kid! He probably never really went to a jam session or learned changes or tunes the way that jazz musicians do post high school. 

Secondly, I believe jazz musicians dislike Whiplash because of how critical it is of jazz. Neiman is stupid. He is stuck in this abusive relationship with Fletcher and with jazz, and it has overtaken his life, his relationships, and his health. Whiplash forces the jazz musician to look at this pathetic hero, and then to ask themselves if he is the picture of success. To many jazz musicians, that is what drive and determination look like, and he is the model player. It is a cognitive dissonance for obsessive musicians to realize what they look like to the outside world and therefore it makes them uncomfortable. The movie also challenges the “Tradition” outright, claiming how “jazz is dying because they wont let teachers abuse their students anymore”, which is a debated topic in many circles. Chazelle also does a great job of subtly nodding to the misogynist landscape, including only one female player throughout the entire film (who gets immediately condescended by Fletcher), and by having most of the non-musical dialogue between players be about sexualizing women. Fletcher also condescends his band by calling them “ladies”, making it clear that this is not a universe for women to inhabit. 

Lastly, of course Fletcher's character is over the top and unrealistic. It's a movie! That is quite literally the whole point of film; to entertain, to catch people's attention, to tell an interesting story. I apologize, but if someone made a movie about the average jazz musician, with their average teachers who aren't crazy, with their average relationships and decisions, no one would watch it! It's Hollywood. When Fletcher throws a chair at Neiman, you're supposed to think “wow, that's insane!” because it is! The fact that this is the most used argument against this movie constantly shocks me. Oh no, you let yourself be entertained! You had a good time with a piece of media without overthinking it to death! God help you!

I’m being overdramatic, but my love for this movie is endless. You can tell so clearly that Chazelle does love this music and he loves making it look like sport. It’s visually stunning, the script is fantastic, the performances were great (although that is not really what drumming looks like), and I think it had a net positive effect on the world. I am thrilled it exists.

Jazz as function

I recently watched a fascinating youtube video about the history of fonts (or, more accurately, typefaces). I’ve always admired graphic design from afar and I love watching artistic movements through different lenses, and this video was made very digestible to someone like me. There’s this concept in design, as well as in marketing, advertising and I'd imagine architecture to some extent that the best typeface is the one that makes you forget that you are looking at a typeface. The best ad makes you forget that you are being marketed to. There is also this concept of form vs function; the fonts that get the job done vs the typefaces that are beautiful to look at. I immediately began obsessing over how these concepts might apply to music. 

The ultimate goal of a typeface is connection and communication. It is most effective when it is at its most clear. I’d like to argue that this quest for the transmission of information is also the goal of music, perhaps only with a more spiritual or intangible focus; the clear communication of an idea from my mind into yours. 

Clearly, music and graphic design have different purposes in society and culture. Graphic design is pretty much anywhere we look; logos, branding, government messaging. This art form seems to be ruled by its function, the artistic outlook coming after what its main intention is. Music, however, is perceived by most as being purely artistic. People listen to certain artists because of their signature sound, people go to concerts to indulge in this art form and its beauty. I find people rarely think of music as serving a function other than bringing joy to everyday life, but I'd argue that music can take up the same function space as graphic design in certain instances. 

The obvious example is the presence of music in marketing; jingles in commercials or on the radio, or the music present in film and television, or even just the 5 seconds during award shows that let a band shine.  In these instances, this art form is reduced down and conscripted to the background. The goal is to advertise, to transition, or to set a mood. Film scores follow the last function as well, serving to add atmosphere to the visual medium. 

This is not to say that these instances of music are without artistry; clearly there are beautiful film scores and awards designed to recognize them. But on top of being well-composed music, film scores, at their core, have the aim of communication, similarly to typefaces. A good film score reflects the plot, themes and devices of the film itself. One could listen to the score on its own and still understand the meaning of a film when a score is composed ultra-effectively. 

It’s important to realize that being “effective” in art could mean many things. At its core, art’s purpose is to externalize some expression of the artist’s self, a reflection of the person or the society the person inhabits. If it is lost on the audience, or interpreted in wildly different ways, this doesn’t mean that the art is therefore ineffective and bad at its function. The beauty may still exist within it, and those misinterpretations are indeed part of the artistic process. 

In this regard, words fail to communicate as often as art may. Language, and especially the translation of languages and notations, are as close to functional arts as one could get. Yet time after time, words and sentences are misconstrued, and my thoughts will never be held in your mind the way it is in mine. 

I have learned artistic movements through the lens of music and it is endlessly fascinating to see the philosophical soul of these movements manifested in different arts. It is endlessly inspiring too, to see how art moves from function to beauty in each of their respective histories. The pendulum seems to constantly sway, where one end represents pure function, then ornamentation, then radical minimalism, then swaying towards passionate abundance. Perhaps it might change the way you compose, if you consider the pure function of what you are doing. Perhaps it will change the way you perform, if you focus more on the message you are trying to communicate. Perhaps it could alter the way you digest music, if you focus on the spirit. 

(The youtube video mentioned is titled : I promise this story about fonts is interesting by struthless)

Is a Jazz Degree worth it?

I HATE AI. I do! And I simply do not care about your plights of “Oh, but it will help automation” or “Oh, but it can write emails for me”. I believe although AI can be an instrumental tool for the development of society and for the possible equalization of the wealth-playing field, all it is doing is instilling fear in the hearts of artists, as they view generated paintings being celebrated, generated songs being listened to, and generated copywriting being the norm. (It also instills fear into the hearts of women, as they view generated pornography of themselves circulating the internet forever). 

I hate the progression of society towards a completely technological entity, I hate the removal of our connection with nature. When was the last time you felt soil in your toes? Think about the sound of birds and cicadas without the sound of cars and horns blending in. There is no money to be had in having a pure heart anymore. Playing the stock market will be more important moving forward than playing any instrument. 

If it is such a bleak future for artists, then should one even consider going to art school? It is a bit incredulous, to give thousands to an institution to get a degree that won’t serve you much in your field; If you are an amazing player, no one cares if you have a jazz degree. They do not ask you for your academic CV upon entering a jam session. There are endless resources online for ear training, jazz theory and improvisation, so why pay for regurgitations? 

I will argue that although maybe not financially wise, going to art school is not only important, but almost radical. To look at a world full of cruelty, war, screens, and gore and to choose to love. To choose to play jazz. 

On a less emotional note, jazz school is important educationally (despite being annoying at times). It completely transformed me, as someone who needs to be taught concepts, and has given me endless opportunities. Paramount to this is just the notion of being in the right room. To be a part of any city’s artistic scene, one must be lucky or extremely extroverted. As a woman, scared of taking up too much space or messing up (therefore making ALL women jazz players look bad), being introduced to people in an academic concept was perfect for me to form bonds, friendships, connections, and networks of musicians. 

I was very quiet in cegep. I was not a great player, didn’t really know what shedding was, nor did I feel comfortable speaking in french. I went from being loud and obnoxious and unavoidable at my tiny high school to lost in a sea of people I felt I had next to nothing in common with. This paired with the year and half I lost due to covid resulted in an underwhelming music school experience. I had phenomenal teachers, and I did learn a lot technically but I never once went to a jam session. I never hung out with my bandmates after practice. This is all due to my own lack of confidence and self-awareness, but this is just to point out that although all my teachers were fantastic, I feel that I wasted those years purely because of my lack of socialization. 

Jazz school is reliant on you and the way you interact with the people around you. If you spend 3 years doing the bare minimum to get the sheet of paper then jazz school was the biggest scam you could have fallen for. However, spending your time after classes jamming with your friends, attending your professors’ shows, and making your voice heard in your program transforms this degree into an extremely wise financial investment.

So, should you get a jazz degree? I mean, yeah, if you’re realistic about the state of our economy and the place that artists take up in society, for sure, follow your dreams. If you’re expecting a 401k and a six figure salary straight out of your undergrad, then maybe reevaluate. 

Why are jazz musicians “like that”?

A short analysis of shedding culture. 

A little over a year ago, I began going to the gym. A mix of wanting to be healthier and having a weird relationship with my body, I believed that waking up as early as possible four days a week to lift heavy things would help me feel better, and maybe have some positive side effects I didn't account for. 

I began seeing gym content online more frequently, a product of my phone’s amazing ears, transcribing the conversations I have with my friends. A common mantra within this community is that “discipline outweighs motivation always”. If you have the right discipline, it wouldn’t matter if you didn't feel like it; you would go exercise. If you have the right discipline, you will succeed despite the odds. I began slowly applying this more to my life: waking up early, getting my tasks done quickly, going out less, drinking less, indulging less. 

I will not lie to you. I suck at practicing. It is a struggle to be productive for longer than 30 minutes, and it always has been. In my early days of being a jazz musician, no one scolded me for not shedding enough, so it was not ingrained in me that it was supposed to be like breathing or eating; that it must be done. I hadn’t even heard the term “shedding” until I got to university. It didn’t feel natural at all to me. It felt like pretending, locking myself in a practice mod for two hours, as if I was actually doing any of the hard work. It felt pointless. I felt like I sounded the same whether I’d shed on a certain day or not. I became scared that if I practiced the wrong thing it would make my sound worse, or that maybe my wrist was placed slightly incorrectly ,so all the work I would do would be for naught, having to relearn it anyways down the line. My friends would talk about their daily 6 hour sheds; I’d blush embarrassingly. Maybe it was a sign I would never be as successful as them in this industry. 

I began shedding twice as often after I began going to the gym. Sometimes I would shed after a workout, the adrenaline leading me to play harder, faster, more complicated things. It seemed natural to apply my newfound philosophy about the gym to my practicing, and I had never felt better about my body and about my music. 

Nothing lasts forever, though. Like most musicians who double as gym-bros, my wrists started giving out and I had to pace myself more, my teacher telling me that I would eventually have to choose between them. 

I will not lie to you. I haven’t shed properly in a month. If I’m being generous, I could say rehearsals and gigs, which are still plentiful in my life, count as practice, but when I say shed, I refer to solitary confinement shedding, hours by yourself drilling the same Jon Riley snare bass drum comping patterns over and over and over. I have the same amount of gigs. I have more artistic opportunities coming my way. I have found my musical people, and they enjoy my musical capabilities. I do not feel the pressure to shed for 3 hours a day; I haven’t been, and my career is doing well. 

So why is it then, that jazz musicians are like that? You know what I mean. Obsessed, reclusive, vibey, outright mean, at times. Locking themselves in mods for days at a time, sacrificing work-life balance, nurturing friendships, relationships, their youth, for a really-cool-phrygian-eighth-note-line. Why is it that in this industry, it is celebrated to rid yourself of all your traits and hobbies outside of music, and to completely devote yourself to your practice to the point of isolation? 

The music industry has changed a lot since jazz’s heyday. The method of survival and success has changed equally. In today's day and age, you are successful if you possess technological prowess, you are successful if you know how to post tiktoks that feed the algorithm. You get record deals based on something as random and arbitrary as going viral. Yet jazz musicians still operate and practice the way the greats did, back when it was less about numbers, likes, and shares. 

The niche of jazz is kept alive by the students, who will one day either get a second job, switch to pop, or become teachers. It is nearly impossible to become a jazz superstar the way the greats were. Even if you do attain stardom or some sort of notoriety it’s possible it wouldn’t be enough to support a family. What’s it all for then? 

Success as an artist means something different to everyone, but everyone is aware of the burden living in capitalist society places on the artist. Perhaps you are fulfilled, but how can you expect to also sustain yourself or your family on emotional satisfaction? Most musicians find themselves, then stuck between a rock and a hard place, stuck between selling out musically or pursuing passion. Jazz is competitive, hoards of musicians vying for limited spots in jazz bands, jazz schools, jazz clubs. Therefore success is about survival, and survival is surely about shedding. And the culture around shedding is filled with self-deprecation, loneliness, and shame. Drummer Joao Rainier speaks of practicing “it's almost like a lonely battle, with myself and the instrument”.

Jazz is hard. It’s important to practice. But to me, practicing was more about learning to blend into the drumkit than it was drilling exercises for hours. Some of the most productive work I’ve done was shutting off the lights and using only my hands on the skins for some 20 minutes. Shedding shouldn't be seen as a battle at all, but as à beautiful fusing of ourselves and our instruments. 

Jazz musicians, then, are “like that” because of the vibey, embarrassing, shameful culture that comes with this style of music. They sacrifice friendships and nights out for long practice sessions out of fear of sounding bad at jam, of not being able to hang. They shed to survive in this cruel world of changes and modes and trades, and if you question it, then clearly you are not serious enough about jazz. 

Music is meant to be beautiful. It is meant to be communal, spiritual, fantastic, exciting, loving. Perhaps this bastardization of it can be applied to every other commodified artform, but we must be aware of what magic we are able to create with our instruments and keep that beauty sacred and special. It is important to practice, but it is also important to keep that pure relationship with your instrument and with jazz.