Daily Slice - Thursday, March 19th

Sometimes people ask me what a typical day is like, being a freelance musician/artist in New York City. The short answer is, there's no such thing as a typical day. I'm sure my freelancer readers can agree, the same parts of this lifestyle that give you freedom, variety, and excitement can also be stressful and nerve-wracking. How do you know how much money you'll make if your job flow fluctuates? How do you plan events, vacations, or just life? 

Well... I'm still figuring all that out. There are plenty of people way smarter than me who have advice on budgeting for freelancers, but that's not what this post is about. I'm going to share with you a cross-section of my life, one little slice at a time. 

Since Dance Theater of Harlem is gearing up for their New York season, I have started playing morning classes again. Class starts at 9:30am, so that means I should leave the house a little after 8:00 so I can get a cup of coffee. The morning commute goes a little smoother for the caffeinated. Also, it never fails that the day you're running late, the trains are delayed. Damn Murphy and his stupid Law. 

At 8:15am I'm dashing out the door with my coat, scarf, and gloves. It's still pretty cold out, and a ten minute walk to the subway won't be fun if I'm not dressed properly. I've got a small carry-all bag that I got from the military surplus store. It contains: a handful of protein bars and other snacks (you're not you when you're hungry), one of my portable knitting projects (cabled socks that will probably never be finished, they just like to ride around the city with me), headphones (essential), Tums/Advil (you never know), and my phone charger. If your phone dies, you're toast -- beyond checking Facebook endlessly, it's vital to be able to answer emails, calls, and texts on the go. The world is your office! Well, except for the subway (no reception). I may not be coming back home until nighttime, so I need to make sure I have everything with me I might need. 

At 9:05am I get off the train at 145th street. No cash. I'll have to pass up my usual 75¢ bodega coffee. ("What's a bodega," you ask?  See the brilliant illustration below!) Fortunately, there's a new Ethiopian cafe that has incredible coffee... and I can use my card. I get the big one. 

9:30am. I'm settled into class in the upstairs studio at DTH. The ceiling is tall and has skylights, and the sun is streaming in on the warm brick walls. The teacher is a guest artist who danced with the Royal New Zealand Ballet; he is quick and efficient, yet relaxed and disarming. There is a film crew. 

By 11:05am I am walking out of the studio toward the subway. My next engagement is at 1:00pm, so I have plenty of time for lunch and a spare errand, but not much else. I take the 1 train to 72nd street and find an Indian restaurant with a lunch special. Bingo. Sunny spot, vegetarian platter, life is good. 

Halfway through lunch I get a text from a young lady who needs to submit a filmed audition for a theatrical project, and needs an accompanist. After much discussion we decide on a time and place. My original plan was to head home in the afternoon and teach a piano lesson at 4:00pm, but now all of that is rearranged so that we can use a rental studio space in town. I head toward my next class and leave her to set up the details. 

1:00pm. I am warming up on the grand piano in the corner of the studio on the third floor of Steps. My window overlooks Broadway and is right above a hectic grocery store. It seems an ambulance or fire truck always goes by during this time; the morning coffee helps me stay focused, but it's tempting to gaze out the windows at the tall buildings and the bustling traffic.  I play through waltzes and mazurkas, polonaises and adagios. The time flies by. 

My original plan was to head home, but at 2:30pm I'm faced with a decision: go home to Brooklyn and come back to Manhattan later, or just hang out somewhere for four hours. It's a nice day out, so I choose the latter. I decide to stay on the west side of town and take the 3 train to 14th street. I meander down through the west village, peeking into hidden gardens and terraces as I wind through the convoluted jumble of streets. I pass by designer boutiques, an old-fashioned soda shop, an episcopal church, a candy store, another episcopal church. I shudder to think what these quaint, almost provincial-style homes cost in this neighborhood. A mainstay for this neighborhood, McNulty's Tea and Coffee, lures me in.  The robust aroma of freshly roasted coffee compels me to leave with a half pound of the custom blended Vienna Blend.  A few blocks away I spot a cafe that features live music; I go in and get the contact info for booking. There is a small stage in the back with an upright piano. 

3:35pm. I make my way west until I get to the waterfront. It's still quite cool in the shade, but nice in the sunshine. I walk along the riverfront park for several streets, gazing at the bright reflective water between piers. I sit down and do a bit of writing, more coordinating for the lessons this evening. What a beautiful office. 

At 4:00pm I head back toward NYU and arrive at 100 Montaditos, a Spanish restaurant that features several small sandwiches (100 of them, to be exact). After a few mini sandwiches, I'm dreaming of warm weather and trying to ignore thoughts of the impending snow tomorrow. 

5:00pm and my phone battery is perilously low. I duck into a Starbucks, which are ubiquitous in NYC, and find a corner spot near an outlet. The outlet doesn't work. I abandon the plan and head toward the studio. 

I get to Pearl Studios around 5:30pm, an hour before my scheduled appointment. The rehearsal room is on the 12th floor in studio J. The room is much bigger than I thought it would be, with folding tables and a mirrored wall. An upright piano is in the corner of the room; it is in relatively good shape, but could desperately use a tuning. I whip out my charger and plug in my phone, without a moment to spare. Crisis averted. With an hour to kill, I pull out my sock project and make considerable progress. 

My piano student arrives at 6:30pm for her first lesson. Aside from the dismal state of the piano's upper register, the lesson goes swimmingly. The coaching/recording session scheduled immediately after goes off largely without a hitch, save for running out of time. Promptly at 8:00pm, the next clients walk into the rehearsal room, which is our clue to leave. At 8:05pm I head to Penn Station to catch a Queens-bound E train, and finally head home. 

I walk in the door at 8:45pm, throw my things on the table in the corner and start a lot for tea. There are still a few emails to respond to, and a few lyrics I've been wanting to try at the piano. The next day will be very different from this one, with a morning class at the beautiful New York City Center and a huge break before evening classes on the upper east side. If I can fit in time to check out the Björk exhibit at MoMA and do laundry, it will be a productive end of a "work week" (I have more work on Saturday). 

Freelancing can be panic-inducing, but when work is steady it can be remarkably freeing if you frame the work in the right mindset. Appointments and obligations are the anchor of my daily schedule, and I fill in the cracks depending on where I am in the City. With NYC being such a dense and diverse metropolitan area, it's easy to find something to explore or some cozy spot to hang out no matter where you are... as long as you're prepared for adventure. 

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Coty Cockrell is a freelance musician and artist living in Brooklyn, New York.  He is actively involved in the dance world as a professional ballet accompanist, and also works as a theatrical music director and vocal coach.  When not teaching private lessons, he gigs with his jazz trio throughout the NYC area.

To inquire about booking or to schedule a trial lesson, please visit the Contact page:

http://cotycockrell.com/contact/

The Theory of Musicality - Learn Piano like a Rockstar

It never fails - every time I take on new piano students (especially teens and adults) the primary reason they want lessons is so they can play the music that they love. Church hymns, pop music, show tunes, even budding songwriters who want to bolster their instrumental performance skills. I am totally inspired by these new, eager students! Their drive, their vision... there's no better reason to make music than because you love it. 

I usually start out the first session with an informal chat about their goals with piano, what they want to get out of private lessons. Their eyes light up as they describe themselves performing the music that they are passionate about.  

There's also a common backstory, an all-too-familiar tale of childhood piano lessons (sometimes for ten years or more), but they just didn't stick. An old-fashioned, curmudgeonly piano teacher who stuck to outdated method books is usually in the equation somewhere. 

When I first began teaching, I defensively clung to the structure of technique: scales, music theory, method books, and a regimented approach to my favorite instrument. Unsurprisingly, many students began to fall off due to lack of interest. I thought, how can you play complicated music if you haven't mastered the basics first? I found myself caught between a responsibility to teach classical technique and music theory, and a pressure to indulge the student's initial impulse to dive into the music head-first, knowing that it would be an uphill climb. 

That is, until I realized that the two didn't have to be mutually exclusive. 

A few years ago, I was having a conversation with Ben Lassiter, a good friend of mine and a remarkable guitarist and educator. As we were each talking about our students, he mentioned a six year old who was really excelling at a remarkable rate. He had already learned several songs and chords, and was able to take that basic knowledge and even expand on it at home. I thought back to my piano students, many who were struggling to move past even the most basic exercises. What was the breakdown?

I asked him about his process when teaching a new student. To my surprise, he seemed to have a very similar approach as I did, asking them what kind of music they wanted to play. The major difference, however, was that he actually incorporated pop music into the curriculum first!

But how do you go from being a total beginner to playing the hits on the radio? 

The answer was so simple: one chord at a time. He explained that when starting out, they'd pick a song together, usually something popular and simple. In pop music, there is no shortage of "three chord songs", so with only three chords to learn and an almost infinite number of songs out there, the scope was manageable and exciting. 

Sure, scales and arpeggios and other minutia of technique would come in good time. But this approach also changes the role of teacher from "master" to "guide", merely opening the door for the student so that he can gain the basic tools needed to explore his musical world. From the Beatles to Taylor Swift, Ben's students would eagerly go through song after song, unknowingly developing more sophisticated skills like rhythm and counting, subdividing, harmony, and song form.  They would learn the various chords in a song, then put them into practice right away. Sometimes they would even sing along! It was an ingenious method, and I sort of hated him for how laid-back and relaxed he made the whole thing sound. 

If it could work so well for guitar, what about piano? 

I was able to test my theory with a bright young lady who began studying with me. At thirteen years old she had already been taking piano for a few years. I could tell that she enjoyed playing, but had reached an age where she was starting to become bored with the method books and short pieces she had been given up until then. 

At the start of one lesson, rather than have her play through her assigned piece I asked her what music was on her iPod. Katy Perry, Taylor Swift, One Direction, Adele, Bruno Mars... once she started listing off names, she almost tripped over herself getting to the next one! This girl LOVED music, but was somehow disconnected from it in her own lessons! It was almost like her piano lessons had nothing to do with her inherent passion for her own music. 

So I went out on a very precarious limb: I asked her if she'd like to play some of that stuff in her lesson, not just the stuff from the book. 

I thought she was going to somersault off the bench. 

The first song we looked at was "Rolling In The Deep" by Adele. I pulled up the chord changes from a guitar tablature website and began writing them out on a piece of staff paper. She was excited, and intensely curious. This quiet little girl, who had such a lovely smile but would rather fade into the wallpaper if she could, was asking question after question, pointing to the paper and eagerly trying to figure out what these strange hieroglyphics meant.

As I started to show her how to interpret each chord, that when you see "Dm" that means to play D-F-A all together, the questions started rolling in. "How come that's not D Major? So the little 'm' stands for minor? What if it WAS D Major? What would the... the 'chord symbol'? What would it say if it was major? What does that seven mean?"

It was astounding. Rather than lecturing, almost by rote, that the dominant seven chord falls on the fifth scale degree, she was learning it on her own. Willingly. Eagerly. Sure, a dominant chord just sounded right, but she still wanted to know why.  So we drew out a major scale and began to dive into the theory of WHY the dominant seven chord is spelled like it is, and why certain chords were major and certain ones were minor. All of this from a three-chord pop song, with no method or theory book. 

For her homework, I gave her another song, and told her to write out the chords and practice playing them. 

Fast-forward a few months: she maintained some classical repertoire in her studies, but retained it much better because she better understood the harmony behind the notes. She also whizzed through pop song after pop song, expanding into classic hits and even a few jazz standards. Her understanding of chords continued to develop, and she even became involved as the keyboardist for a small rock band comprised of students her age!

This approach works because the music comes first. Developing good technique is super important, and mastering technique and music theory takes time. However, if you don't have passion to keep driving you forward, you'll never stick around long enough to get the chance. 

In future posts, I'll be digging deeper into the specifics of understanding chord symbols, and how to use them to get you closer to what you truly care about: the music you want to play.

Thanks for reading. And until next time, stay squirrelly. 

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Ben Lassiter lives in Durham, North Carolina, where he shares his rockstar talent with students from seven years old to adults.  He has a master's degree in Jazz Studies from North Carolina Central University with an emphasis in Composition and Arranging.  He also plays in the nationally renowned swing ensemble, The Mint Julep Jazz Band.  

Check him out at his website, www.benjaminlassiter.com.