In between keeping up with my forearm stretches cause my tendons have been pretty painful lately; just something I really wanted to share.
Reading the liner notes of a Bill Evans record I got a long time ago and never got around to reading before, Live at the Village Vanguard. Here's what caught my attention, written by the producer of the record, Orrin Keepnews:
"Through most of my seven-year working association with Bill Evans at Riverside Records, getting him into a recording situation was far from easy. He went on to become an artist of monumental importance, to make major alterations in the language of jazz, and to exert vast influence on virtually every pianist among his contemporaries and those who came after. But for me it is hard to shake off first impressions and to erase the memory of a diffident young musician who set almost impossible standards for himself and was quick to find fault in his attempt to reach his goals."
I have one Bill Evans record (this one) and can listen to it, actively or inactively, and my ears or my understanding of jazz or the piano are not educated enough to tell you what makes Bill Evans "good" ... I just know that he is (albeit maybe because the jazz profs I know say so, but also because in my humble, humble opinion, he blows me away). I don't know if many jazz purists or pianists would argue with what this man had to say about Mr. Evans, I doubt it. So as history records it, he was one of the noted jazz pianists of the 20th century. And no one can argue that he was a smart, talented musician.
"But for me it is hard to shake off first impressions and to erase the memory of a diffident young musician who set almost impossible standards for himself and was quick to find fault in his attempt to reach his goals."
It's possible Mr. Evans threw temper tantrums in his bedroom and screamed at his piano, depending on his maturity level I suppose ... or maybe he just sat and accepted the fact that (in his mind) he was just not good enough, and might never be. Boiling down to it, it's the voice in our head that makes the most difference in the long run, isn't it? So how was he ever going to be able to convince himself that he was good? Or at the very least, passable? Adequate? Was he doomed to be unhappy with himself and his music forever? Or was he doomed to cheer up or sadden depending on the critics’ reviews? If everyone in the world says you're amazing, but you know you're not, isn't that the one that matters at the end of your life, or even just during your life? If reality indeed lies in perspective (which I believe it does)?
What matters? Others' memories of you or the thoughts about yourself once residing in that grey matter rotting inside a skull 10 feet under the cold ground? (Well nothing matters, at that point, but for our time above the cold ground something has to.)
But how do we get better if we don't listen to the constructive criticism, or even just the plain old opinion of others? Do we go along hoping we are all McCartneys and Dylans and just say "Yes, I know I was born awesome, and if I'm not awesome yet I know I will be so I don't need to take any advice"? By the same token, how do we draw the line between considering the opinion of someone more learned than us, or taking absolutely everything they say and conceiting that we indeed must know nothing in comparison?
I've recently been working with a producer in Winnipeg and I consider him a smart man. And he's the first person, really, who has ever said to me, respectfully, in a nutshell, “Nicole, in my opinion, your song is just not quite good enough yet.” Then going on to explain what, he felt, was lacking or could improve. Up until that point I couldn't understand why nothing was happening for me; I'd been a big fish in a tiny pond my entire life, everyone around me was telling me how good I was, and I think it is so so important to have someone you trust be able to tell you straight-up what you might want to think about improving. I write songs now and am able to kind of pick out what he's talking about, and think ahead of time "Ok, this idea could be taken further, or this bit is dragging and unnecessary" or whatever, you get the idea. From the feedback of others, I'm able to start to look at improving my songs as I'm writing them, as opposed to before, accepting whatever came out as the end result. But having said that, I find myself now, with each new song I write and send to him, reserving some of my own opinion about whether or not I think it's good ... kind of waiting for him to tell me if it is or not. I'm hoping to come to a point to gain the confidence in my own abilities to be able to tell for myself, without second guessing or hinging on the approval or disapproval of others. But the point is, among other things, considering his opinion is improving my songwriting ... at the very least it's making me think of things I wouldn't normally. I KNOW that he knows more about songwriting than I do. But has taking that into account robbed me of a valid personal opinion? How do we take the advice of others and still retain stock in our own thoughts about it? Is it even possible to open our minds to some valid and educated advice while still preserving some sense of trust in ourselves?
Or are we just supposed to accept the artists' curse that in order to progress we're not allowed to be happy with the fruits of our labours, if we want to keep learning? (I don't know if I buy that anymore, cause I've seen artists having fun.)
Bill Evans is remembered by history, critics, fans, jazz novices and purists, basically people who "know what they're talking about" (and I use BIG quotes for that phrase) to be amazing, to say the least. Yet he didn't measure up to his own standards, and probably never did. (I don't know, but I can't really see him saying at 65 years old, "Oh perfect! I'm as good now as I always wanted to be!") Whether that caused severe unhappiness or just a constant, throbbing disappointment, I can't guess....
But regardless if the outside approves of what you're doing and considers you good, but inside yourself you are convinced for a fact that you suck ... or on the other hand, you don't realize that you're not getting it or not as good as you could be or not improving or growing or whatever and the general public and the people who "know what they're talking about" all know it, but inside your head you're happy and convinced that you're good or even great but you never progress and never get off the ground ... it still just makes me ask a haunting question:
Just who the fuck are we trying to impress?