Personal Story

I remember the first time I played a jazz solo, back when I was in 6th grade. I had no idea what a #9 was, or how to move in the circle of fifths in a ii-V-I lick. But there I was, facing an audience of parents, students, and other random people, getting ready to play "El Gato Gordo". I tried to stay calm, but my knees were shaking like a newborn calf. The rest was just a blur. I remember when it was over; the crowd cheered, I stood up and nodded my head in acknowledgement, and then sat back down again to do it again in another song. Not only was the sense of relief overwhelming, but it gave me the confidence to keep playing, not only during the next song, but for the rest of the year, and possibly for the rest of my life.

Peace, son. Or daughter.