When Jason DuMars asked me to write something for the International Saxophone Home Page, I asked him what he thought the readers would most be interested in. Jason suggested that I share some information about my career and how I managed to produce my CDs. We agreed that it might be nice to offer some information to those saxophonists who are thinking about becoming full time musicians.

Sounds good to me. I always thought that in today's scene there were more than a few good issues to be addressed. Please bear in mind though, that the following may not necessarily appeal to everyone. It's merely a guide from my own experience, for what it's worth.

There are many ways to "make it" in the music business. It all depends on what you want. If I could give only one piece of advice, it would be this:

TAKE CARE OF THE MUSIC FIRST!

Of course, there's a lot of pressure to gain recognition, but if that's your biggest concern, this advice may not interest you. I've seen musicians devote a lot of energy to promotion at the expense of music, sometimes even putting down musicians who sit at home and practice. Impressive inroads are made in a very short amount of time. All the right people are met but once it becomes obvious that this person doesn't have the music to back it up they sort of fade into the background. Obviously there has to be a good balance between practicing, writing and promotion.

That said, my other piece of advice is:

DON'T WAIT FOR AN INVITATION!

There are some musicians who seem to expect opportunities to come to them rather than creating situations for themselves. Yea, you deserve it. Sure, the scene can be fucked up. So what? Rather than chasing it around, always one step behind, why not create your own niche? Make people come to you. If they don't, you'll still have your music. That's what it's about anyway, right? A career is only a means to that end, to serve the music and not the other way around. Once you confuse this issue you begin to create potential problems for yourself.

The basis for "taking care of the music first" means that you might actually have something worth promoting. Rather than trying to figure out why the phone doesn't ring, think about writing some music. There's nothing like a finished project to get you excited and give you the best reason in the world to promote yourself. Then it becomes mandatory; imperative for you to take the necessary steps to get it out there. Keeping focused on the music can help keep from developing a negative attitude. There's a lot that can discourage us, at least we have the creative process to keep us positive.

Beyond that, it's important to connect with people who inspire you or who are doing the kinds of things that you would like to do. I often notice a self defeating attitude among musicians in which those who are successful are looked upon as having "gotten over" somehow. This is just plain alienating. It's easy to become frustrated by the success others may have attained. Believe me, it's a small scene and there's not that much that separates us. If somebody's music reaches you, go after them! Deal with it on a human level. Share your excitement and be real. There's nothing like a great performance to motivate you into starting a conversation with someone you don't know. So it's uncomfortable at first. Big deal.

Taking care of the music is important for a larger reason as well. In my opinion the jazz world has grown a little stale and somewhat artificial. There is a certain amount of support from the press and major record labels for music that is modeled after "classic" jazz but this fosters a "re-creative" atmosphere as opposed to a "creative" one. The music needs to be linked to the culture in some real way, not just through corporations who's interests in culture are negligible.

It's not enough to simply recreate the styles of the past. Think about what made those styles viable and wonderful in the first place. The music was born from the need to express a people's feelings about being alive in a certain time and place. Lasting music was made in the process but we should not assume that all that is needed is to dedicate ourselves to the nuts and bolts of the form. The music will not come to life simply by recreating the sum of it's parts. We have a responsibility to bring something to the music. The great musicians of the past were great because (among other things) they strove to put themselves into what they were doing. If we want to imitate them then let's do it the way they did it, by striving to create something of ourselves. Don't let anyone tell you it's not right or not good enough. And above all, don't be afraid to make mistakes! I recommend that everyone think about these things when composing and putting together groups. It's necessary in order for the music to evolve and necessary for your growth as an individual musician.

With that in mind I'll relate to you what my New York experience has been like. If it offers any insight for anyone, great. If not, that's OK too since we all have to figure it out ourselves on some level anyway.

I came to New York in 1983 having saved enough money from being on the road (with trombonist Buddy Morrow) to last me a year even if I got no work at all. It was my intention to make the city my home but rather than think too much about that I decided to concentrate on nothing but music. It was my feeling that a year in New York would, if nothing else, make a better saxophonist out of me and provide me with a great experience.

Of course, I knew I would get some kind of work. In my case that meant doing every kind of gig imaginable from weddings to jazz gigs. Doing "commercial" work in New York was interesting enough since I've always had an interest in a variety of music. When you're working on your horn and learning the ropes, any time you've got your instrument in your face, that's a good thing. I viewed it as more or less temporary and was pretty happy since I was learning a lot and meeting new people all of the time.

One thing did begin to bother me however. Often the bandleader would preface a piece of music by saying "Okay, we want kind of a Michael Brecker thing here", or perhaps a "Sanborn thing". Well, that 's cool, I've admired both those guys for a long time but if I continue to do this, when is any body ever gonna say "how about giving us an Eskelin thing here"? After all, Michael Brecker and David Sanborn developed their own voices. Nobody's telling them to sound like somebody else. Besides, there are a ton of cats out there who can and really want to do this kind of work. I needed a chance to develop my own thing. Not that I ever thought that what I do was ever going to be that commercially viable, but at least in my mind I can apply what I do to almost any situation. It's just a matter of convincing the rest of the world.

The break from that work came suddenly one night on a club date. We were playing a top 40 tune that had a small sax spot in it. This club date office could pick from almost anyone in the NY area, some name players in fact, so we could play our own solos. Or at least that's what I thought. The singer turned around to cue me in, so I closed my eyes and started to blow. I finished playing, looked up and noticed that he was still looking at me. In fact he looked horrified. He was supposed to be singing. Apparently he was lost . Jeez...sorry. I thought I played a pretty straightforward solo. The man was livid. I was amused. This was not appreciated. He told me that next time I'd better play it like the record. I declined and offered the advice that perhaps he'd do better with another saxophone player. My politeness was appreciated even less.

The next week I started looking for day work. Being depressed on a Saturday night because you're sure that everyone else is out there doing great things while you're playing bad top 40 is not good for your mental health. Day work at least gave me some dignity. Besides, I was able to meet more women this way.

Now I could make money while devoting my self strictly to the music I wanted to play. My plan was to hang out and eventually get a gig with one of the name bands, do the sideman thing, learn the ropes of the business then branch out on my own. Of course there were about 5,000 other tenor players thinking the same thing and maybe 3 gigs available. What actually happened turned out to be far better considering the way the scene was changing. This was the mid eighties and conservatism in jazz (not to mention politics) was spreading.

I had been on the scene for a few years by now, sitting in at all the clubs and trying to get noticed. As time passed I realized that gigs I was once interested in were seeming less and less attractive musically. In retrospect I can see that had I been successful in this endeavor my playing might have taken a different course. I think it would have actually taken me longer to get to where I am now. Not that I wouldn't have loved the opportunity to play with any of my heroes, it's just that my feelings about music were changing. I wanted to go in a different direction. The favored opinion of the day was that if you didn't apprentice with one of the greats you could not be expected to play correctly and therefore had no hope of ever being taken seriously. I didn't buy that.

I began putting my own groups together and soon found myself among a core group of like minded musicians, jamming, writing, and constantly talking about music. In the past, there had always been a subtle pressure to adapt to whatever the musical situation was. Now there was no pressure to conform. There was also no work. That didn't matter though, for the first time I really felt like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.

The musicians I've always admired the most were the ones who lived their music every day. I made a decision that I always wanted to keep that feeling of true joy that I got at age 10 when I began playing. Why trade that in? It makes sense to keep that intact and hold out for what you really want. The only way anyone is going to know that you're serious is for them to see your dedication in action.

I had met drummer Phil Haynes around this time and had begun getting together with him and bassist Drew Gress at least 3 times a week for sessions. We talked extensively about what it was we were going after. In the past I had always gotten the distinct impression that talking about the music or the creative process was taboo as if you might somehow kill the magic. NOTHING could be farther from the truth. If you want to make conceptual changes in the music, you need to work on changing those things that are most taken for granted. Otherwise you just reinforce old ways of doing things that quickly turn into formula. After a couple years or so we decided to make a recording. This was the beginning of the do-it-yourself process that got me started. Here are some of the things that I learned along the way.

You can learn a lot just by being in the studio and recording your own music. One thing I learned is that if you go in with the idea of making a demo, you'll more than likely get just that, a demo. The first time I took a band into the studio I didn't have a very clear idea of my expectations. The vibe was "Let's just go in and play and not worry about it, if we get lucky we may have a record". The results were good but I quickly realized that without that commitment and attitude of "this is it" the results were exactly proportional to the intent; not bad but not totally convincing either. I realized that we could have approached it as a real record and made a real statement. Who listens to demos anyway? Think about all the records out there. To me it makes sense to bring something fresh to the arena. Whatever you do has to have all the conviction in the world since you're putting it out there along side all the great music that inspired you in the first place.

Once you get yourself into the studio there are some things to keep in mind. The two most important elements for recording are engineer and microphones. A great engineer can make a basic studio sound much better than it really is. A not so great engineer can make a top of the line studio sound like total garbage. Spend the extra money to get a good person on the board, especially if your going to go "live to two track" (which means no overdubbing or mixing later on). Get somebody who knows your music, has heard the band and knows what you sound like. You might think you're saving money by getting a cut-rate engineer but in the long run you'll probably spend more when the session turns out badly and you have to do it all over again. I've seen it happen. If the studio doesn't have great microphones then rent some. Even the best engineer can't compensate for trashy mics. There's nothing like hearing your sound sounding "right" to inspire a great performance. Don't skimp here.

In terms of studios you can sometimes get a good deal for off hour bookings. Try and get to know the some of the people there. In some cases you might even arrange to work behind the desk answering phones or the like in order to trade your time for some studio time. If you're prepared to wait until the last minute you might actually cut a deal with one of the upper-end studios depending on how their business has been recently. You'd be surprised how much it goes up and down.

The best advice I can give here is be prepared. If you've never run your own session in the studio before by all means do so, you'll learn a lot about yourself. It's also a good idea to get some experience this way before you actually have the opportunity to to it on some one else's tab. If you're spending your own money to make a demo you'll be amazed at the effect that the constant "running meter" has on the proceedings. If you're spending someone else's money it can be even worse! The idea here is to run an efficient session.

Once you've got a finished product, edited and ready to go, it's time to start sending it around to record companies. Again, don't wait for an invitation, you'll never get one. I've seen many musicians hold off because they don't know anyone at the company or they don't have a recommendation or connection. Forget that. Send it. If nothing else, you'll get your name around to the right people. They change jobs a lot and may remember you. You're planting seeds.

If you do get a bite then you must negotiate price. I'm always asked just what a good price is for a tape. What did it cost to make it? Don't forget to add musicians fees (at least scale). You may not get your asking price, especially if it's your first record. If you do agree to something less than you hoped for you should make sure that the rest of the contract is legitimate and that you will be in a position to better the deal next time around.

I started by producing my own tapes and selling them as is to record companies for release. You can make exactly the record you want this way but it can be harder to get the best price. Now I'm able to make deals with companies in which they pay for the recording and musicians fees up front. In order to make that happen you must continue to better your situation as you go. You don't want to wind up in the price ghetto (for gigs, records or whatever) which means that you have to say no sometimes. You might sit home a few times but the gigs that pay your price will add up and so will your "stock". Of course there will be times in which you may work for less if there is a good reason, everyone does sometimes. We all have to make our own choices here. My only advice is that if promoters, record companies, club owners, etc. know that you will cave in, you'll never get ahead. You must be prepared to know where and when to draw the line and refuse certain offers.

Joint Venture (one of my first bands) got together in 1987 for a concert in New York and we decided to record the next week. We rehearsed and played as much as possible and when the day came we ran down an albums worth of material in less that 8 hours. That was my first record. David Baker (our engineer) was instrumental in helping us land a deal with Enja records in Germany. That's the other element you'll need. Luck. Actually, I prefer to think of it as being fortunate. Luck can happen to anyone and there's no control over that. Being fortunate means doing every thing you can in order to increase your odds and finally getting a break. There are never any guarantees. Keeping your act together and hanging in there are the keys.

I continued to self produce my own recordings, saving up my money from day work and pouring it back into music. I had been living in NYC for over five years but had almost no work at all in the city. A small community of musician/composers had evolved who were doing their own music and were in the same position. We decided to band together and start producing our own concerts, renting space and selling tickets ourselves. Finally we approached the Knitting Factory and began producing a festival under the name "The Corner Store Syndicate". These festivals barely broke even but they got the ball rolling. The trick is to transform your efforts from being strictly promotional to becoming financially rewarding. This of course, is very difficult. It's tempting for musicians to play for next to nothing just to get some exposure. Club owners know this, they are in business. You're in business too, so it's up to you to draw the line. It's hard when you have to convince a distracted promoter to hire you as an unknown but once you start to get a following you need to get paid. It can be tough, especially when there are other musicians willing to do it for nothing, but just remember, you won't get what you don't ask for.

Another important issue is side person work. Not only is it a key issue financially but it's a great way to balance yourself musically. I've been fortunate to work with people like Joey Baron and Mark Helias, excellent musicians with a solid track record. I get to play great music and get some good exposure in the process. In both cases I went after these gigs, letting these guys know that I was impressed with what they were doing and had a genuine desire to make some music with them. I'm sometimes surprised that simple things like this are underestimated by so many musicians. Of course there is always the totally insincere cat who bad mouths the band all during the set and then immediately proceeds to go right up afterwards, shake hands and tell everybody in the band how great they are and how much he wants two play with them. These guys are pretty easily spotted and dismissed so don't be afraid. Just be honest and say what you feel. It will show.

Now when I get a call, people are looking to me to bring something to the music, not to assume a role. This takes time. I finally left my day gig in 1991. Since then I've had to learn by doing (there's really no substitute for this) all sides of the music business. My last day job involved shipping records for a small label here in Manhattan. This was great experience since I was able to see and participate in a good deal of what went on there. Today I'm involved in all aspects of the production and promotion of my own work. The challenge now is to learn how to manage my time. I just got a computer, which is an amazing help but I could be on it 24 hours a day. I still gotta practice!

One of the things I learned early on is that it's no longer enough to be just a musician. You must learn the business side of things, the sooner the better. I've always resented the fact that musicians were often regarded as being poor business people, but I do feel that if the "straight" world ran it's business as loosely as a lot of musicians I know, we'd all be in some deep shit. It takes only a minimum of common sense to put you ahead of most everyone else. I'm talking about the basics here, returning calls promptly, being thorough, writing things down, in short, just being dependable. If you really put some initiative behind your business skills, results will follow. In order to survive you'll have to become an agent, promoter and generally a good salesperson. This is still true even if you're lucky enough to secure these services in another person. You'll have to be on the case at all times and will still be doing a lot of this work yourself. In the end, no one is going to do a better job at it than you. For instance, there's the issue of promotion. Most of the time record companies will do this for you but I've been in situations more than once in which I've had to do this kind of work myself. You can sit around and complain about it or you can just get out there and do it. You'll be planting seeds for the future and making a lot of very valuable contacts along the way. As far as management goes, I do know some musicians that have booked their own tours in Europe but this is not easy. Long distance phone bills, train schedules, and language barriers are just a few of the problems. Financially, if you're in a cooperative group in which everyone is in it equally, things are a little easier. If you're the leader then you should pay everyone a predetermined salary. In order to command a good fee when I work as a sideman, I make sure I pay a guaranteed fee to my band members even if I have to go into my pocket to do it. Management is the key here, but that can take a while. There aren't a lot of promoters for this music but it pays to keep trying. A manager can take a lot of the pressure off on the road in terms of making logistical arrangements, negotiating money, getting paid, etc. Just remember that this doesn't let you off the hook. You still have to be just as on top of things as before.

I should mention one common trap that I'm sure most musicians and bands have encountered. When it comes to business dealings, never take your friends for granted. It's too easy to rely on good feelings and tacit understandings with the people you've known a long time and are the closest to. Misunderstandings can easily break up a great band and more importantly, endanger good friendships. You owe it to yourself and your friends to be just as formal in your business dealings (if not more so) than you are with strangers. This means putting things in writing and signing them.

One important concept that is integral to having your own music is having your own band. Within the day to day jazz scene a combination of many factors, not the least of which is economics, mean that music based around a specific group of people has become less the norm. It's easier for a soloist to travel by themselves and pick up a rhythm section from town to town. That's cool if you're going to do standards and music that everyone knows. That's also the problem however; it's music that even the audience is likely to be tired of. The big question here is the effect that this has on the music. How will the music continue to develop without the concentrated efforts of a longstanding group of musicians dedicated to it's continued viability?

In my case, doing the wandering soloist thing was impossible due to the nature of the music I was writing. My music is not rhythm section/soloist oriented to begin with. The instrumentations are pretty unique and the music is centered around specific musical personalities. I was being told however that if I wanted to work then I'd better pick up musicians on the road, particularly in Europe where the expense of air travel for a group can be high. At this point I already had a couple of records out and was getting very frustrated by the almost total lack of work. I tried dealing with promoters as a soloist and felt very much at the bottom of the rung. I was getting very bad offers that didn't even come through in the end. I got tired of not being taken seriously and decided that it made no sense to compromise the music particularly when my gut feeling was that this tactic was going nowhere any way. I decided to keep pushing my projects as they were; band projects. In presenting myself this way I found that even though it was still hard to get work, I was being taken more seriously. By offering a group with original music I was entering into a slightly different arena than that of the workaday jazz musician. I wasn't getting a lot of work but what I was getting always involved band projects. It went against conventional wisdom but this was exactly what I wanted in the first place.

Now that I've covered a few of the promotional issues let's think about what we're promoting. There seems to have been an explosion of new recordings in the last 10 years. With the advent of new technologies and more independent labels than ever before there seems to be a glut of product out there. Should we be adding to this mountain of titles with no thought other than to our careers? Perhaps we should look at the bigger picture and ask ourselves "What do I have to add to all of this?"

Theoretically we are all unique individuals with something to say. Unfortunately, a lot of what passes as music education and the increasingly conservative bent of the jazz scene in general are fostering some attitudes that would have you believe differently. In the name of all that is good about learning your craft and the history of the music, the emphasis has been taken almost completely away from individuality and placed squarely on replication. There once was a time in which an overly derivative player would be criticized. Today, the more you sound like someone else the more accolades you'll likely receive.

There is no need for these to be competing issues. However, I might point out that craft is at the service of creativity. In fact, there have been many great players who's technique was questioned at the time (and in some circles still is!) such as Thelonious Monk or Miles Davis. There are still those who take exception to John Coltrane's tone. Most of us accept however that their music transcended the issue of what was considered "good" technique.

My advice is this. It's never to early to take yourself seriously as a musician and an artist. With that comes the responsibility to keep an open mind and continually push yourself beyond your limits. You don't have to let others define you. Make up your own rules (if you need any).

You'll likely face a few obstacles along the way however. There seems to be an attitude these days that goes something like this. "How are you going to swing as hard as (insert name of great jazz musician here)?" "How are you gonna out do...?" "Do you really think your as good as..." You get the idea. Well, what about it? Sounds pretty compelling doesn't it?

A lot of young musicians skirt the issue entirely by throwing themselves at the feet of the "Masters" and submerging their own identities in the mold of "student of the music". Well, that's convenient. Not much responsibility there. Play by the rules and you won't get hurt.

I always thought that this paradigm was bogus. If you're going to be as "good" as Coltrane then you have to define a lot of intangibles. What musical principles are you going to use as a standard? These standards are constantly changing and being argued about endlessly and for no good reason in my opinion. Was Coltrane as good as Armstrong? It's a stupid question, isn't it? How do you define good anyway? The reason that the Coltrane/Armstrong paradigm is a sham is that they were playing by different rules. Sure, there was enough in common to refer to them both as jazz musicians (although please don't forget that there will be arguments on even this point) but there are some pretty big differences in approach and concept between the two. I'm not even too sure that Louis Armstrong was all too fond of what the younger Dizzy Gillespie was playing. As my friend Mark Helias is fond of saying "This ain't weight lifting. In weight lifting, the guy who can lift the most weight is the best". Music is not a finite concept.

What does this mean to you and I today? It means that you're free to be yourself. It means you have to think for yourself. What are you going to do that Coltrane didn't do? Maybe that's not the right approach. If everything under the sun has been done on a saxophone (and I think it pretty nearly has been) then perhaps the question is "How do I put this together in a new way? How can I change my thinking about this material? Can I make a music that relates to the world today?

You may quickly find out that this thinking could take you out of the arena of what is considered jazz. Well, it wouldn't be the first time THAT'S happened. Besides, who gives a shit? Isn't jazz a subset of music in the first place? If you make a prior decision to stay within the boundaries (whatever they may be) I think you'll be at a big disadvantage. For me one of the best things about jazz is that it's usually been made from a standpoint of spontaneity, creativity; forward looking, open ended exploration. How are you going to do that if you decide before hand that the instruments can only operate in certain predetermined roles? That might be appropriate for recreating a sound, but if you do, then I think that the question of "is it as good as Mingus, Armstrong, Ellington" et al. becomes valid in a BIG way. The short answer to that question is no. Those musicians put their lives into their music. How can anyone else replicate that? I don't want to say that it's impossible to be creative in the context of an older form, it's just that you have to be very careful not not be reverent to the point of not taking chances. Playing "correctly" can quickly become deadly dull.

That leaves the question, "Is my music as valid as or as important or as good as the music of..." Man, people can go to their graves arguing about this kind of shit. As long as you put yourself, your life, your heart and soul into a music that is unique because of the time in which it was made and the ideas that go into it then I think that the whole issue of validity in any absolutist terms is irrelevant. For years, the academy imposed it's narrow views concerning validity on jazz music to the detriment of many musicians and the public in general. Now ironically, the jazz world has bought into the sham of needing that "validation", adopting the same narrow-minded attitudes that were used against it for so many years.

Rather than worry about whether you'll be the next Coltrane, worry about being yourself. Don't let anyone tell you that there can only be so many Ellingtons, Armstrongs or Parkers. That's not the issue. The issue is that there's only one you. Develop it! It's never too early to take yourself seriously.

Instead of waiting for the next jazz Messiah, I think the jazz world would do very well to realize that since the sixties the music has gone in so many directions that no one figure could possibly emerge as dominant. Jazz as it existed in the culture at that time (actually before then) is a thing of the past. Today what scene there is seems rather empty to me, a music of the past, propped up by a system that is falling apart. The new music is quickly branching away from this system entirely. In fact there is no longer a "music" to talk about necessarily. That's the wonderful thing though. To me, many of the most exciting developments in music are happening in other genres. I'm not even sure that jazz has such a "lock" on improvisation anymore. As styles and influences from all over the world mix, combine and recombine, new styles and concepts are continually being developed. You might might not like them all but that's not the point. The point is to bring this process to your own music and make a sound that you do like.

Good Luck!

Ellery Eskelin
New York City
1996

-JCD