Category / music

by Nathan Coumbe

Self-education is great. Self-education is limiting.

When I was 18, I auditioned to become a jazz studies major in the percussion department at the University of Southern Mississippi.

I’d been a musician for most of my life, taking my first lessons at the age of seven and attending one of the state’s best arts schools for a significant portion of my education.

But… I’d studied violin, piano, and voice. I was a completely self-taught drummer. I’d learned everything I knew from playing along to my favorite CDs and watching videos of my favorite drummers, trying to emulate them.

The audition did not go well. Dr. Wooton, the head of the department, asked me to play a ratamacue; I had no idea what that was.1

He asked me to play a G Major scale on his marimba. I remember exactly what I said: “Is it laid out like a piano keyboard?” He chuckled. “Yes, just like a piano.” I picked up a marimba mallet (I’d never held one) and slowly, painfully, pecked out a G Major scale with one hand.

Finally, he asked to see my drum set skills. Dread gave way to excitement… Until he asked me to play a Songo. I had no clue what that was. He asked for a Samba, a 2nd-Line… I just shook my head.

Finally, he asked for a bossa nova. “THAT ONE I KNOW!” I shouted. And I proceeded to demolish his drums like a metalhead on PCP playing the worst bossa nova ever attempted by a drummer.

“NO!” He said. “It’s a light and airy dance music. You play it like this.” And he sat behind the drums and tapped out something a Brazilian native would have happily danced along with.

Dr. Wooton, eventually and probably grudgingly, told me that he would take me into his studio, but that I desperately needed lessons. I decided to delay my entrance to USM by a year while I studied snare drum, drum set, and xylophone with a local private teacher (Jeff Mills, drummer for the blues musician you see in “O, Brother Where Art Thou”).

My skills under Jeff’s tutelage, buoyed by my preexisting musical knowledge, grew exponentially in just a year. I was able to audition again and even pass an audition to join the lower-level jazz band at the university, where I eventually earned a degree.

Why does this story come up now?

Well, I realized a couple of days ago that I’m once again back in the exact same place, but this time in my corporate career.

I work in learning and development for a moderate-sized corporation. And I genuinely feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.

There’s even a term for people like me in the industry: “Accidental trainer.” It’s someone who was really good at teaching, who moved into the corporate world and began implementing those same skills as a trainer… With no formal training.

L&D is its own beast, its own field with tons of nuance. And you need skills ranging from business strategy and project management to adult learning theory, instructional design, and cognitive psychology… Not to mention a penchant for being able to cajole, persuade, and sell to people above you.

Everything I’ve learned has been through on-the-job self-education to accomplish a project or do a task assigned to me. However, I’ve reached a point, much like in my audition, where the cracks in my education (or lack thereof) are starting to show.

It’s getting harder and harder to do my work well because everything is more complex than ever before. More is expected of me, and I worry I’m not up to it where I am today.

So the solution is education: actual education by people who know what they’re doing… Not random readings and YouTube videos. I need a new Jeff Mills for my learning and development career (and don’t worry—I have found something.)

At some point, I think we all discover that self-education and learning on the job aren’t enough to accomplish what’s being asked of us. We need a teacher, a mentor, a master to show us the way. Something, or someone, that knows the ins and outs of the field of study and can help us master it.

If you’ve reached this point, I hope you’ll try to find someone like that to help you level up.

  1. I later found out it was one of his favorite rudiments (sort of a “word” in the language of drumming), and it quickly became mine. If you want to see a master using them, check out this video. ↩︎
by Nathan Coumbe

Make an exercise out of the hard parts

Something I learned to do as a musician was the idea of “deliberate practice.”

What this meant for me—like when I was learning a concert snare drum solo—was to take individual measures or a small group of measures, and turn them into exercises.

Examples:

  • A difficult passage that had a hard dynamic transition or sudden change
  • A complicated rhythm I needed to drill before I could play it

I would take these passages, slow them down, get them perfect, and work my way up to “normal” playing speed. Then I would add back in the music that surrounded these difficult sections.

This is how I was able to learn difficult music.

There’s a lesson to be learned here for every aspect of life.

Doing the things you can already do easily won’t make you any better at anything.

You’d got to practice the hard parts until you can get them right.

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by Nathan Coumbe

Marketable skills

The Music School at University of North Texas has a list of what they call “marketable” skills that each of their degree plans develop. Skills include:

  • Performance communication
  • Excellent memory capability
  • Command of music computer programs
  • Pattern understanding
  • Improvisation and analytical capabilities

Now, as a former full-time musician myself and current corporate employee, I can safely say…

No one has ever paid me for any of this. Which is the supposed to be the definition of “marketable skills”—things worth paying for.

If you take Seth Godin’s definition of marketing to heart (which I do), then marketing means creating change in another person. And to take it a step further, it means creating a change in them that also prompts them to “pay” for your skills in some way.

You will then see that none of those skills do anything like that. However, they may give you the ability to accomplish that goal.

Those skills might allow you to:

  • Move another person so deeply that they become a raving fan of your music
  • Leave someone in awe of your stage presence and artistry (so they’ll come to more concerts and buy your albums)
  • Create a piece of music so astounding that someone tells 10 of their friends (and they tell 10 more…and on and on it goes)
  • Hypnotize an audience with intricate rhythms and on-the-spot creations so outrageous they beg to “know the trick”

All of these outcomes from your skill development lead to similar results: obsessed fans who tell other people and support your art because they can’t live without you.

The skills aren’t marketable.

But what you create with them and put into the world is.

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by Nathan Coumbe

Art hardens you against feedback

I spent years of my life being criticized (often brutally) by teachers and peers during my time as a musician.

It hurt—a lot. For a while, anyway.

Eventually you realize something:

It’s not about you. It’s about the work.

Even when the comments seem personal or exceedingly harsh.

You realize there’s this other thing you’re trying to bring into the world (in my case, a piece of music). And there are ways to do it that are creative and wonderful… And ways to do it that are just plain wrong.

At some point, the musician realizes that the people they’re making art with all have the same goal: to bring to life a beautiful piece of music in the way it needs to be.

And when you’re all working toward that shared goal, it makes the feedback easier to bear. You learn to separate the self from the art.

It’s not about you—it’s about the work.

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by Nathan Coumbe

Forgetting to enjoy music

Have you ever gone a really long time without listening to music?

Doing it again almost seems like a chore until you start listening. At that point, it becomes the most pleasurable activity imaginable. 

When you’re studying music professionally, it all becomes so clinical you forget how to enjoy it. 

It’s like studying the human body for medicine and somehow losing the ability to appreciate its beauty. Instead, you see chemical reactions, a skeletal structure, and an organ meant for feeding. 

Studying music can have the same effect. Only when I stepped away from it for a while did I learn to enjoy it again.

by Nathan Coumbe

Artist-of-All-Arts

I don’t think I’ve ever met a single artist who was not a jack-of-all-trades in the arts and humanities–an “artist-of-all-arts” if you will.

It seems every artist is not only attracted to multiple forms of art but develops skill in multiple areas as well.

My late friend Michael McNally was a brilliant cellist and a gifted, passionate actor. My friend Lindsey is a skilled artist, photographer, designer, and also a singer with a beautiful voice. (You can see some of her work here and here.) Another friend of mine, Alden, is one of the best photographers I know as well as a talented artist and connoisseur of music.

It seems to me that anyone attracted to the arts and humanities is attracted to all of them. It’s as if once the right brain is fully engaged, it looks for beauty everywhere. 

Such is the life of an artist, and why, I suppose we can seem to others to be so scattered in our work and interests–and perhaps feel that way about ourselves. 

An artist is a lover of beauty no matter its form, so we chase it everywhere.

What about you? What forms of art are you attracted to or skilled in? Let me know in comments below!

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by Nathan Coumbe

Be bad in public

Yesterday’s post talked about perfection getting in the way of your art. Today, I wanted to give a special thanks to John Cochran, Joey Panella, and Rebecca Smith for letting me get out of my own way.

When I was in my early twenties, I majored in Jazz Studies at the University of Southern Mississippi. My weapon of choice was the drum set, and I was pretty average.

I was learning from books, playing in jazz band rehearsals 3 days per week, and shedding in the practice room. Still, I was not great.

I wasn’t great because I had almost no experience.

For whatever reason, John, a guitarist, came to me and asked if I would be willing to play drums with him and the others in a weekly gig at a pub in Hattiesburg. I accepted.

It was not until I started playing 3 hours a day – not very well – every single Tuesday from 10pm-1am, in front of a live audience, that my skills as a musician truly started to develop. That was the experience I needed to truly begin developing as a musician. It was at that point that I began learning on what I needed to focus and develop, so that I would improve. And improve I did.

I say all of that to encourage you to do a few things:

  1. Be brave enough to practice, and suck, in public.
  2. Find a mentor or sponsor that will allow you to suck in public.
  3. Show up day after day whether you suck or not.

I’m not encouraging you to be bad at something for which you’ll never put in the effort to become excellent. I’m saying that you’ll have to be bad at something you want to do before you become good; it helps if you do it in public, and it really helps if someone supports you while you do it in public.

It’s the only way you will start learning what you need to learn.

Thanks John, Joey, and Rebecca.

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by Nathan Coumbe

Play your music

“Many people die with their music still in them. Why is this so? Too often it is because they are always getting ready to live. Before they know it, time runs out.”

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, Former U.S. Supreme Court justice

The other day I wrote a blog post about exploring the things about which you seem to be innately curious. I was discussing this subject the day before I wrote it, and during the conversation, I had something of a heartbreaking thought: I believe each of us has a unique purpose, a unique interest that, if nurtured, will allow that purpose to be lived out. And yet it seems as though a great majority of the human race never achieves their purpose.

Why is this so? Is the curiosity squashed out of them before they have a chance to develop it into something meaningful and lucrative, simply because it is different from what others think is a viable vocation or career? Is it that many are so focused on simply eking out a living that they never raise their heads long enough to look their purpose in the eye and pursue it? Are they so caught up in fantasy worlds, technology, and social media that time that could otherwise be spent on pursuing these inclinations is wasted? Or worse still, is the opportunity to live a purpose-filled life literally taken away by violence, famine, or disease?

Perhaps it is all of these reasons and more, but while you still breathe, while you still have time on this earth, I encourage you to listen to Mr. Holmes and play your music. Listen to Ralph Waldo Emerson and follow the beat of your own drummer.

Your curiosity, your natural affinities towards certain skills, subjects, passions, and interests – they were all given to you for a purpose. Follow them where they lead, ignore the naysayers, shun the nonbelievers.

Start today. Do something you feel you were meant to do.

by Nathan Coumbe

Stop telling people to avoid the arts

How many of us have told someone that she should choose a real major, one that is applicable in today’s job market, rather than pursue something creative like art, music, or literature?

(RAISES HAND)

Why do we do this? It is well-meaning enough, I suppose: we don’t want them to struggle financially, we don’t want them to fail, we don’t want them to get hurt because it is so hard to live as an artist…

Let’s just stop, shall we?

What if the person to whom you gave this advice is actually quite talented as a writer? What if she has spent so much of her free time drawing, painting, and sculpting that she has become a fantastic artist? Do you really feel comfortable telling her that she should go get her MBA, work in middle management, collect her benefits, get the 401(k) match, and just worry about “all that artsy stuff” in her off hours, because she can’t make real money in the arts? Why is that good advice (especially when that last claim is bogus)?

Handle Money. Fail often.

Why don’t we teach her instead? Let’s make sure that we are teaching our children how to handle their finances, how to live on a budget, spend less than they make, save money, make money, and how to avoid debt at all cost (this is the real reason so many of us starve these days). We should most definitely teach her not to go $100,000 in student loan debt for her MFA in painting, but that does not mean we should tell her not to pursue her passion – those are not the same thing.

At the same time, we should also be teaching her to fail and fail often. Have her start trying to sell her art online. That doesn’t work? Should we tell her that she should quit and go get a real job? No! You don’t tell a child to stop trying to ride a bike because she fell off and scraped her knee; you tell her to get up and encourage her to try again.

Do the same thing with your creative child or friend. Encourage her start teaching other people what it is that she knows. She can make online videos of her work so that others can see it and her ideas will spread. Find whatever avenue works for her.

Encourage

There has never been a better time to be an artist than today – the market is wide open, the possibilities are limitless. You can be an artist in anything at which you are talented; it does not have to be a traditional “art”. Let’s focus on teaching our family and friends the right skills they need to survive and thrive – let’s teach creativity, leadership, personal finance, marketing and storytelling. Then let’s send them forth to pursue that which they most truly enjoy.

If we can teach them to handle money well, and to learn and grow from failure, they will all be fine.

We will all be just fine.

by Nathan Coumbe

New toys

There is nothing quite like coming home and opening new toys. Even when you’re almost 30.

My new practice and teaching kit arrived today, and I could not be more thrilled.