Sandy Cressman & Homage to Brazil

Sandy Cressman is a San Francisco jazz vocalist, who has devoted the majority of her career to the study and performance of Brazilian music. This Saturday, Sandy will be appearing at Bake's Place along with the Jovino Santos Neto Trio, and together they will perform her Homage to Brazil- a “musical journey through the world of Brazilian jazz.” Earlier this week, I had the pleasure of interviewing Sandy about her career and about Brazilian music. She was warm and engaging and clearly very passionate about what she does. The following are excerpts from our conversation:

It is clear from your bio that you’ve had a natural affinity for Brazilian music almost your entire life. What about it resonates with you?

In knew the first time I heard it, there was something about the passionate nature of the music that was appealing. Performing it myself really suited my own personal expression. Early on in junior high, I heard a girl sing Sergio Mendes’s hit “Mas Que Nada” and it totally floored me. I didn’t know how to go out and seek the music at that time. But by the time I was into college and into jazz, I heard it again…..Tania Maria, Flora Purim….and was really excited. One time I was at a Pat Metheny concert, and the music that was playing on the break was so beautiful that I walked to the soundboard to find out who it was. It was Ivan Lins. I went out and bought as much as his music as I could.

Later, I was on touring Japan with a Japanese group. The guitarist for that group gave me recordings of Djavan to listen to. I was overwhelmed. When I got back from Japan, I bought all the Brazilian music I could find. At one point, the pianist Marco Silva sat in as a sub for Pastiche. He brought me cassettes of Brazilian music and fed my addiction further. In 1995, Marco asked me to come and sing Brazilian music with him. It was a little café duo gig. Each week we would bring in new tunes to try out. That was really the start for me.

Why do you think the popularity of Brazilian music is so enduring?

I think the rhythm is infectious. There’s a feeling of passion that’s very Brazilian yet not restricted to Brazil. A lot of people feel that passion. It makes you feel really good. It really takes you somewhere.

Tell me about putting together the music for “Homage to Brazil.”

Well, my first record was “Homenegem Brasileira”. I have known Jovino for fourteen years. We met at California-Brazil summer camp. He’s one of the rare pianists that can play the broad repertoire of Brazilian music that I like to sing with authenticity and freshness. The last time we played at Bake’s, it was Jobim’s 80th birthday. At that time, we decided to do a tribute to Jobim. This time, we decided to mix up composers. We came up with some songs that our quartet can explore and have fun with. Basic arrangements but not everything is planned.

Tell me a little bit about playing with Jovino.

Jovino is just a stellar musician. He knows his craft, knows Brazilian music and knows jazz. He has a certain openness to the unexpected and he’s non-judgmental, which makes it such a comfortable experience to play music together. I’m a guest on his soil. He respects the work that I’ve done to do it as well as I do. It feels like I’m being collaborated with and respected.

How do you think your approach to the music differs from other vocalists and musicians?

I’m not Brazilian but I try to be true to the spirit of the music. The musicians I use, the way I sing and phrase it. I typically sing to a non-Brazilian audience and I am able to give them a background on the tunes and why I like them. They get a history and exposure to things they might not have heard before.

To someone who is new to Brazilian music and wants some ideas as to what recordings to check out, what suggestions would you make?

Joao Guilberto. Also, I have a Brazilian music discography on the teaching page on my website.

What is playing on your i-Pod right now?

Chico Pinheiro. Really cool, modern Brazilian music.

For more information about Sandy, please visit http://www.cressmanmusic.com/.

Channeling Billie

Wow.

Last night, I saw one of the most beautiful and mesmerizing performances that I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know when I’ve been so moved or so completely transported to another place and time.

It’s hard to know where to jump in, so I’ll begin with the basics. The show was the Strawberry Theater Workshop’s production of Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar and Grill, with Seattle actress Felicia Loud masterfully rocking the role of Billie Holiday. The setting was Emerson’s, a small Philadelphia jazz club. The time was the late 50’s, shortly before Holiday’s untimely death at age 44. The show is a journey back into time, with a front seat at a nightclub performance with the legendary Lady Day, as she was so nicknamed by her longtime musical cohort, saxophonist Lester Young. For a little over an hour, we sat at small cabaret tables (located right on the stage) and listened as Billie talked about her life and sang the songs that we all immediately identify as hers. It was a bit of a history lesson; She told stories about her difficult childhood, writing God Bless the Child for her mother, her days on the road with Artie Shaw and his band, her endless encounters with racism and injustice, her troubled relationship with Joe Guy, her pull into heroin use and the legal difficulties that ensued and even her dreams. And of course, there were the songs: God Bless the Child, Them There Eyes, What a Little Moonlight Can Do, Strange Fruit and more. I was stunned at how perfectly Loud was able to master Holiday’s gravely tone and very unique phrasing. It was as if she was channeling Lady Day herself. And that was only one part of it.

Loud’s entire performance was nothing short of brilliant. It was an endeavor crafted with enormous skill, nuance, keen observation, profound sensitivity and perhaps, a measure of pure magic. There is no question that Holiday was a tragic figure. Her life was full of hardship, pain and violations that started at a very early age. Yet Loud presented a fully-evolved Holiday, capturing all of the attendant complexities and contradictions of this very human icon. She held me completely. She charmed me and broke my heart in the same beat. I was taken by her grit and toughness but unsettled by her tender vulnerability. Loud’s Holiday was every bit a survivor but also a human train wreck, derailing right before our eyes. Throughout the course of the evening, Billie became increasingly altered, although it’s hard to say on exactly what. We witness her drinking on stage, but she also occasionally retreats to the back room of the club. To fix possibly? It’s unclear, but Loud handles this slow transformation with amazing subtlety and patience. The change crept in slowly, and bit by bit, the darker parts of Billie emerged as did her seemingly bottomless well of pain. By the end of it, Billie would leave us completely, transfixed in someplace far away and untethered to the world. I sat frozen and heartbroken as she closed the evening with the wrenching Deep Song. I wanted to grab her and pull her back to us, but she was long gone.

Loud was well-supported by her cast mates Ryan Shea Smith on piano and LeNard Jones on drums. And while I believe Felicia Loud could have easily delivered this amazing performance in a conference room under a fluorescent light, all the same, she was very well-served by the expert lighting design of Reed Nakayama, which added a fitting edge to some of the play’s more intense moments. Greg Carter also did a great job with the set design, and the idea of situating at least some of the audience on the stage was a very good one. For the hour or so that I sat there, I had no concept that I was anyplace but Emerson’s Bar and Grill.

I attended this performance with my dear friend and theater-going compadre Christine. After the show was over, we stayed in our seats and lingered in the theater for a good twenty minutes or so. We didn’t want to leave the space that Ms. Loud and crew had created. We were speechless and in some measure, shaken. Billie Holiday’s imprint on American musical history is undisputed, and the difficulties of her life are well documented. But it is an entirely different thing to bear witness firsthand. Thanks to Felicia Loud, we had that extraordinary opportunity. I am left with a renewed appreciation for the great Lady Day but also with a profound sense of loss and a deep sadness for the suffering that this amazing woman endured. I so wish the world had done better by Billie.

Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar and Grill continues through October 12th. I strongly encourage you to see this show. For more information, go to www.strawshop.org.

The Human Jukebox

The gig was going well. It was a trio gig with RH on piano, Jon Hamar on bass and of course, yours truly singing. We were in the restaurant of an old hotel in Port Townsend. It’s a nice funky room, the piano is decent enough and the ferry ride and road trip up had been fun. The first set was fine: We were swinging, the room was full and people seemed to really be listening.

A few songs before the first break, a guy wandered up to the bandstand. He looked like an old and weathered Tom Mesereau. He had a thick puff of white hair and was wearing a Hawaiian print shirt. He asked somewhat gruffly if I could do Skylark. I told him no, that it wasn’t in my repertoire. He was clearly displeased and wandered back to his seat, grumbling loudly from the table something about Skylark being a Hoagy Carmichael classic that I really should know. OK, fine. I could live with that. But then, as we were getting ready to start up after the break, he approached the bandstand again. This time he directed his question to RH, as I was dealing with yet another weirdo old man. (More on him later.) This time Mr. White Poof wanted to know if I could sing How Deep is the Ocean. This time, RH had to break the bad news that no, How Deep is the Ocean wasn’t in my repertoire either, but that they could play it instrumentally. Poof immediately turned his sights on me and right there in front of the bandstand, he began. He started holding up fingers, “For one, you don’t know Skylark. For two, you don’t know How Deep is the Ocean…” I knew where he was heading with his diatribe- That I was somehow deficit as a jazz singer if I didn’t know those tunes- and I cut him off before he could whip out finger number three. I explained that I had a pretty big book of tunes and that I was doing the best that I could to cultivate my repertoire. Poof snarled something back as he returned to his table. I'd had about enough of White Poof but all the same, RH and Jon opened the set with an instrumental version of How Deep Is The Ocean. We aim to please, sometimes even if the person we're playing for is a glory hole.

OK, at the risk of having my jazz singer's license revoked or in incurring ridicule from my fellow vocalists, I have to make a confession: Neither of the tunes he requested have actually ever really spoken to me. This is probably why I haven’t ever learned them. Skylark is somewhere on my musical “to-do” list but pretty far down on the list. Truth be told, I probably could have stumbled through both of these tunes, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. On Skylark there are some harmonic areas that are fuzzy to me. I could have pretty easily scatted through How Deep is the Ocean but couldn’t, for the life of me have pulled out all the lyrics. So what was the point? Singing something badly just to make some cranky old fart happy? Surely, he would not have cared for my delivery of either of these tunes. Then what? More grumbling?

There were two other requests that night, and I accommodated both of them. One woman wanted me to sing The Very Thought of You. I did, and she was happy. I spoke to her during our second break. She’d never heard the Shirley Horn version of that song. I told her that the minute she got home, she absolutely had to download it from i-Tunes. If she likes The Very Thought of You, she should have the quintessential recording of it. I hope she did. Anyway, I was happy to accept her request, and she was gracious and appreciative.

The other request of the evening was (sigh) Fever and it came from Weirdo Old Man Number Two. Now Number Two was very sweet, albeit slightly befuddled. He came up the bandstand during our last break and raved about how great we all were but also gave one critique: That the bass was “so overpowering” that it was making it hard to hear the vocals. We were all a little surprised by this. Jon is a tasteful player, and I could easily hear myself all night. All the same, we smiled, nodded and thanked him for his input. When I sang Fever in the last set, Number Two enthusiastically waved a big “thumbs up” to me from his table in the back of the room. No sooner had we finished the tune than he was front and center on the bandstand, waving his arms around and basically reiterating his praise from earlier, this time without the remarks about the bass. Number Two seemed to have no concept that he was interrupting the set by standing in front of us and going on so. But I’m not even sure if Number Two was 100% sure of where he was in the first place. He was sweet and harmless but a little confused. His wife, however, left a generous tip on our music stands as they were walking out.

The whole idea of taking requests is a tough proposition for me. I don’t know of any other musical genre where there is an expectation that the performers will know and can play any tune an audience member asks for. I used to have a regular gig in the lounge of a hotel downtown, and we frequently received requests. As always, I performed the ones I could, which I think was pretty often. But I also had to deny many others. The whole concept of requests puts the singer in an odd position. Of course, I want to please people and accommodate them if I’m able. On the other hand, there’s something very awkward about not knowing some tunes and ultimately disappointing people or in some cases, like as it was with the old fart at the gig the other night, having your validity as a jazz vocalist challenged, based merely on what songs you do or don’t know. And in some cases, the intent of the person making the request is questionable. There was one guy that used to come into the hotel gig and make request after request. There was an edge to this guy, and it always felt like he was testing me or trying to trip me up by asking for a tune I didn’t know. It felt mean. One night, he asked me to sing “Strange Fruit”. I know the tune but refused to sing it for him. I explained that it wasn’t my song to sing. Ultimately, I am not a circus dog doing tricks for tips nor am I a human jukebox with an endless repertoire of tunes ready for the asking. I only know of one singer around here with such a vast repertoire -my teacher Greta Matassa. She possesses an almost encyclopedic knowledge of most jazz tunes ever written. (For more on Greta, read my previous post.) There is no doubt about it: Watching Greta field requests is a very exciting and amazing thing, and I myself get a huge thrill out of it. But I can’t do that, and the question is; should I have to?

On the drive back to Seattle, RH and I talked about the situation with Mr. White Poof and about the issue of requests in general. RH said that back in the old days, a piano player wasn’t judged on his/her improvisational chops but instead on how many tunes they knew and could play off the top of their heads. He speculated that Mr. White Poof may have come from a generation of listeners that still had that sensibility. He also speculated that sometimes making song requests is an odd bit about control: About controlling what music would be in the room and what the people in the band would sing and play. We also joked about people that make requests but leave before we have a chance to actually play them and about the sloppy, drunken couples that are so into making out that they’re unaware when we’re actually playing their song. We talked about it for quite a while but didn’t reach any particular insights on the matter.

One thing that’s for certain is that I as long as I’m singing jazz, I will continue to get requests, and I believe that how I respond will continue to be on a case by case basis. In the situation with Mr. White Poof, we’d performed three full sets of great songs and plenty of standards. However, he could only focus on the two tunes that I didn’t know. There would be no pleasing him. Number Two, on the other hand, was a goofball but also a sweetheart. Fever isn’t my favorite tune to sing, but I did it. I guess for me, it all boils down to the attitude of the person making the request. It's fundamental stuff here. If someone approaches me with a sense of entitlement or seems to simply be challenging me, then I may or may not take their request. It will depend on how I’m feeling and the variables of that particular day; if my morning run went well, my teenager behaved and my checkbook balanced, etc. If, however, the requester approaches with even the slightest measure of kindness, then the sky’s the limit. I’ll deliver the goods sweetly or swingin’, depending on the song. And you never know- I might even be convinced to take a shot at Skylark or How Deep is The Ocean.

Amazing as Always, Again

Greta Matassa is not only my teacher and mentor but even more, she’s a dear friend. So it was great to be in the house at Bake’s last Friday for the release party for her new CD, I Wanna Be Loved. I was not surprised to see a packed house, when I arrived. The room was energized and there was a palpable sense of anticipation in the air. I chatted it up with Greta before the show, and she was upbeat and calm. Simply put, singing to an enthusiastic room is what Greta does best, and the intimacy of Bake’s provided the perfect environment for her. I knew it was going to be a great night.

I Wanna Be Loved is Greta’s first release on the Resonance label, and was produced by George Klabin, who Greta had previously collaborated with on the Rising Jazz Stars Concert series in Los Angeles. The CD’s debut charted nationally at #19 for airplay on jazz radio stations. This is impressive but no surprise. In my mind, it’s about time that everyone else gets in on Greta. We in the Northwest have been keeping her to ourselves for too long.

On the bandstand with Greta was her great band featuring Darin Clendenin on piano, Clipper Anderson on bass and Mark Ivester on drums. Greta opened the set with the first cut on the CD Broadway. The band came out swinging, and away we went. It should be noted that several of the arrangements on the CD, where masterfully crafted by the esteemed pianist Tamir Hendleman, who also played on several of the songs. Hendelman’s arrangements are dynamic, adventuresome and always seem to really groove, at least to my ears. I was particularly taken by the unison piano and bass lines that came up in several of the songs. The CD is (and thusly the evening was) a tasty assortment of many moods, grooves and stories, of which Greta effortlessly and brilliantly moves through. Many of the selections are contemporary ones (As Greta explained, “post 1965”) and thusly mark some new territory for Greta, as she has previously largely been focused on older music. No matter. One of my favorite songs of the evening was Chan’s Song, which was written by Herbie Hancock with lyrics by Stevie Wonder. This was a lush, musical sweep in 7/4, which Greta glided through with grace and ease. It made me want to be the keeper of someone’s “scared love”. You’ll See was another great moment. Greta's delicate and breathy delivery held a poignancy that conveyed a bittersweet optimism. Greta’s longtime pianist and musical cohort Darin Clendenin did this particular arrangement. Oh, what a lovely job he did. I was also bowled over by Would You Believe?, a Cy Coleman tune. I've heard Greta sing this particular song on several occasions, and it gets me every time. I'm becoming increasingly enamored of Cy Coleman compositions, and Greta's treatment of Would You Believe? only adds fuel to the fire. Hey Greta, can I get a chart?

Of course, there were many, many more great moments on Friday night. One fun romp was Nothing Like You, a Bob Dorough tune performed at lightning speed, alternating between 6/8 and 4/4. It was a thrilling ride, and in Greta’s words, “That one was kind of a workout. No place to breathe!” As always, Greta was in good form, and her banter with the audience was both comfortable and amusing. It was also informative, as she shared stories about the songs, explained why they were chosen for the CD, what the histories were, etc. In addition to doing songs from the CD, Greta opened up both sets for requests, something that her fans always love. The crowd went particularly ballistic for her balls-out bluesy God Bless the Child. In short, the woman sang her ass off. Although I always feel a little sheepish honing in on audience request time, I requested Goody, Goody. I’d seen Greta perform it at Bumbershoot a few years before, and it was one of my favorite musical moments that summer. I had a hankering to hear it again, and with a chuckle, “the G” as I like to call her, obliged. In a heartbeat, we had Greta singing her finest Ella and scatting like mad. Although the entire night was wonderful, it was in that precise moment that I was reminded of how hearing Greta sing is one of the greatest joys in my life. I felt happy to be there and happy to be celebrating my friend’s success.

It would be remiss of me if I failed to mention just how wonderfully this rhythm section played. Some of the arrangements were challenging to say the least, and the band delivered seamlessly. Each member of the band had his own shining moment, and I was blown away again and again all evening. Per usual, I was particularly taken by the breathtakingly beautiful sound that Clipper Anderson seems to magically and consistently produce. There is no bass player quite like him anywhere. I might add that both Darin and Clipper played on the new CD and that in addition to You'll See, Darin did the arrangements for a couple of other songs on the disc.

Throughout the evolution of her musicianship, Greta left no stone unturned. She listened extensively to thousands of recordings, fine-tuned her focus on every single nuance and technique and assimilated the craft through extremely hard work and diligence. It has paid off nicely, and this new CD is yet another pinnacle in an impressive career. I hope and expect it will blast her into a larger listening arena. In her efforts to develop herself as the best vocalist that she could be, Greta turned to the masters of the jazz genre. Today, it can easily be said that she is now among them.

Perception

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve posted anything here. In fact, since starting this blog a year ago, I’ve been woefully negligent. Other writing duties took precedence, and life circumstances distracted me. Although I write all the time, I never managed to give this blog much attention. But I’d like to try again now. I love singing jazz and I find that I am perpetually curious about the emotional, spiritual and very human experience of being a jazz vocalist. I am interested in what makes us tick. I am fascinated by our process and by the challenges we face in our own individual developments. I’ve sat with many fellow singers at vocal jams and gigs, swapping war stories, sharing struggles and delving into the bigger questions of jazz and why it owns us so completely. There are all kinds of things to think about on this groovy path we’ve chosen. Lord knows, there’s plenty to laugh at. In ramping up this blog again, I must begin with a disclaimer: I don’t know nothing ‘bout nothing. I’m just a fellow traveler, stumbling along, swinging and singing as best she can and trying to figure it out like everyone else. I don’t have any answers but I do have lots of questions and an observation or two. With that, I soldier on. If you care to join me, well that would be divine. I would be honored.

The thing that is on my mind today is perceptions. The other night when I was out and about, I ran into another singer. We chatted it up a bit, and she commented that I was one of the hardest-working vocalists around, that I seem to be gigging “a ton” and that I must be doing pretty well on the fiscal side of singing jazz. Ha! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. God, if only it were true. As a matter of fact, this has been my slowest summer in years, and my gig calendar is looking like a sad, skinny dog these days: Droopy-eyed. Ribs sticking out. In need of a pat on the head and a nice bowl of kibble. But still, somehow she had this perception that I was slugging along much better than I indeed am. I must confess that I’ve had the same erroneous perception of other singers.

A huge part of my freelance writing gig involves publicity-related writing for the music, and more specifically, jazz business. I read and write a lot of artist bios, press advances, web copy and what have you. The purpose of a press kit is to provide information about an artist and also to paint them in as favorable and glowing light as humanly possible. Before working in this arena, I probably didn’t question many of the things that I read about other artists. I assumed that everything I was reading was probably true and like a bobble head, nodded and took it in without second thought. Sometimes I would read about the accomplishments and accolades of another vocalist, and my own sense of accomplishment would rapidly diminish. I am, after all, a middle-aged vocalist, coming into the game somewhat later than most. Could I or would I ever measure up to whatever singer I was reading about at the time? If I wasn’t careful, after reading said bio, I would begin to droop. However, I see things differently now.

I have read countless bios of singers prior to hearing them perform. Many are well written, wonderfully written and often include quotes from known and unknown persons. After reading them, I have a certain expectation of how a singer will sound or what his or her particular musical notoriety is. (The wrenching ballad….the kick-ass scat….the precise whatever….You get the picture.) I come to their performance with a certain level of expectation and have, on many occasions, been not only disappointed in what I heard but flabbergasted by the disconnection between what was written about the vocalist and how the vocalist actually sounded. One recent example involved a singer whose publicity information was full of chatter about what a keen sensibility this person has for bebop. On and on and on it went. When I saw this particular person perform, I heard not a bop line one. There was not even one note of scat. I was left to scratch my head. I have witnessed this phenomenon many times. Just to be clear, I've often read press about vocalists and have been blow away by their performances. In these instances, everything written about them was indeed true. I don't want to give the misconception that all artist bios are deceptive because that's not the case at all. But it does happen.

I must confess that in turn, I have also been guilty of manipulating words to present an image of a performer that wasn’t exactly accurate. In short, I’ve dressed up a few dogs. This has always involved performers that I’ve yet not heard, so I’m slightly off the hook. However, in most of these cases, there were enough indicators there that I knew what I was writing was window dressing and perhaps not exactly an accurate representation of the artist. Often you can tell if an artist bio is bunk by the specific choice of words. (i.e.: It was “suggested” that she sing at the Monterey Jazz Festival, not she “sang” at the Monterey Jazz Festival.) You can also tell a lot about an artist by what is omitted from the bio. It’s a tricky game. This is the art of publicity. It’s what we do. And I might add that this isn’t limited to music writing. It happens in multiple disciplines throughout the arts. This isn’t to say that I am always comfortable with it. And to put in a plug for my own credibility and ethics, if I have indeed heard a singer and/or musician perform, then anything I write about them is 100% honest and accurate. I’m not in the business of reviewing, and if I don’t have favorable things to say, then I don’t write anything. At the end of the day, I would rather support my fellow musicians and serve as an active cheerleader for the art form.

Anyway, this whole discussion isn’t so much about the ethics of publicity writing as much as it is a cautionary tale about how perceptions can trip us up. It doesn’t even have to be an artist bio or a description on a web site. Sometimes, we might notice another singer’s name on the Earshot calendar or in the local entertainment listing. We see that he or she might be playing someplace here or there and we might be quick to make assumptions about this person’s success as an artist, based solely on where they are performing. (Just as this singer I mentioned earlier had made the assumption about my making a lot of money.) Perhaps they have a new CD out, and we assume that all is good and glorious in their careers. Further, many of us vocalists are tender things and might make the mistake of believing that in the absence of that shiny new CD or a booking at the latest happening jazz joint, then our own singing gig is somehow not as relevant or evolved. In short, when we’re not careful about perceptions, we can make erroneous assumptions about other artists and erroneous assumptions about ourselves.

In November, I am recording my first CD. It’s been a long, long time coming. My musical sidekick RH has worked up some truly amazing and delightful arrangements, and I couldn’t be more excited. However, the other day I was looking at a book about the top 500 jazz vocalists in the U.S. With each page I turned, I was in shock and awe of the vocalists I was reading about and their endless accomplishments. When it comes to jazz singers, there are some true super novas out there. (In fact, some of them live among us right here in the Northwest.) It wasn’t too long before I crashed a little. I felt like a tiny insignificant speck in the universe of vocal jazz. I started to think about my age and my relative lack of chops. I started to have doubt. I began to question the worth of proceeding with an expensive recording, when I’m so abysmally outside of the pack. All of this because of one afternoon with a book!

I am an avid runner and have been running for a decade now. (Actually, I’m a bit of a late bloomer in this endeavor as well, I suppose.) Before I ran my first race, a wise and more experienced runner made the sage observation that when it comes to competitive running, it’s cool because while I will probably never be the winner or even among the top finishers (There were probably a few thousand entrants in that particular event.), I will never be at end of the line either. I remember that every time I run a race, and it seems like something that could apply here as well. Ultimately, we’re all where we are on our own musical paths and as RH says, we need not apologize for where we are in our development. It also seems important to keep in mind that nobody ever exactly arrives at that one illusory point that we define as “success”. All of us are continuing to grow, continuing to learn and continuing on our way as artists and as human beings. And in the moment of a tune….in that precise moment when the song is blasting off to we know not where, it doesn’t seem to matter how good I am or what measure of success I possess. What really and truly matters is that I love the music and that I am having fun.