The Legend In Our Own Mind Syndrome

So I met this guy the other night, a musician, and I saw him play at a relatively big event which shall go unnamed.  I watched him as he struggled playing several songs, and I thought to myself that this guy probably just doesn't know the music very well.  Maybe he was called in at the last minute and was asked to play for this group.  I know quite a lot about this because it happens to me all the time.  However, this guy was pretty bad.  He was playing like a complete novice, like somebody who types with only one finger.  But I still still gave him the benefit of the doubt, and I thought, maybe he's just unsure of this song.  But then the next song came and it was the exact same thing all over again. 

After he finished playing, it was my turn to get on stage.  It's always unnerving for me to follow a guy who doesn't sound very good, and I felt his eye on me the entire time I was up there.  Anyway I went up and did my thing, played through several pieces that I myself didn't know very well, but at least used all my fingers to do so.  I'm a musician for hire and many times I play songs  that I don't know very well, or songs where the bandleader might simply hum a few bars then just go and expect me to follow along like magic.  I get that a lot.  But it's okay, I know my instrument, and I can handle it most of the time.  And when I stink, I know that too.  I know full well when my stuff blows and I will admit it to the world.  But after it's over, most of the time people just say I did great, awesome, wonderful music.... of course I think they're insane, but there it is.  It's their opinion. 

Anyway, I talked to this guy afterwards and he began to ask me questions about his instrument.  I tried to answer his questions as best I could, and I made the mistake of speaking to him as if he were a beginner.  You see I foolishly put two and two together,... he's playing with one finger... asking simple questions that only a beginning musician would ask... ergo, he's a novice.  Of course when he heard my tone, he sounded more than a little miffed at me.  He said gruffly, No, I'm not a beginner.  I've been playing all my life, since I was 10 years old.  Now this guy is older than me by several years, and I was a little taken aback by his response.  But I understood.  It's like I told him he sucked right to his face.  But I honestly wasn't trying to do that, because that's just mean right?  We then chatted for a little while longer as I attempted to pull my foot out of my mouth without him noticing.  Finally I was able to break away and go home for the night.  It was late and I was very tired.  But I thought about what he said as I drove home and it started to bother me. 

You see, I meet people all the time that tell me that they've been doing something for years and years, but when I see their work or hear them play or sing or whatever, I think REALLY?  That long, huh?  Because their work doesn't reflect all of the time that has passed.  I call this the Legend in our own mind syndrome.  Because it doesn't matter how long we've been doing something, time is not our gauge.  Time cannot tell us how polished or how sophisticated we are in our art.  Only practice and study and more practice and more study and performances and performances and on and on can tell us where we really are.  Yes art is subjective, but every great artist knows the tools of the trade.  We only get better by doing and then by pushing ourselves to do more than we did the last time out.  The only thing that gets better with time by doing absolutely nothing is wine.  But even wine begins a swift decline after it passes its peak.

I met the great trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie once and I asked him about practicing.  This was about a two years before he passed.  He told me, son you must always work to get better.  Never stop practicing, never stop pushing ahead.  There's always more you can learn.  Dizzy Gillespie was in his 70's when he said this to me.  He could have said that he's been playing his trumpet for over 60 some odd years, and that he doesn't have to practice anymore.  I would have believed him if he said that.  But no, he was humble and he respected his instrument greatly.  This is from one of the greatest trumpeters who ever lived.

Art is a gift.  We must nurture it and refine it so that our own expression can be effortless, and breathless.  Once we stop practicing, pushing ahead, we begin to lose the connection that extends from our instruments to our audience.  Whatever it is that you do... do it well.  We've all heard the saying that Practice makes perfect, but I don't really believe that.  What is perfection really?  Practice makes better, not perfect.  Because it doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be right.