Personally I figured out a very long time ago that luck is something largely under our own control and to run your life along the lines of "if I don't do A, then B won't happen" is a symptom of denial, and the most positive progress I have ever made in my career path of choice has been when I have taken as much responsibility for my circumstances as possible, grasped the nettle and gone after what I wanted. You can do this without either hurting other people or being unscrupulous. Of course it's not always the case that we are free to pursue our desires right away. For instance if you have three children in school and a very hefty mortgage, the idea of handing your notice in at your well paid job in order to pursue your dream of playing avant garde jazz might not be quite as thought through as one might hope.
But at the risk of abusing an old cliche a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, though latterly I favour the analogy of a pilot altering course by just four degrees at the beginning of his journey, which of course will result in him ending up at a completely different destination.
Toss a coin or turn a card if you must (own up, we've all made at least one key life decision that way) but starting with a wish list of what you want (aim as high as you like) will give you something a lot more tangible than merely a nebulous and ever so slightly desperate wish that things might be better.
The self help industry is massive, and has made a lot of money for quite a few writers of motivational literature, but a lot of this is pure hocum and much of the rest of it fairly logical common sense.
The first step is to take a metaphorical broom to your life and sweep it clean of all negativity, and on the subject of negativity a favourite anecdote of mine concerns a concert in Wales on a wet Sunday evening, and whilst I perfectly like Wales it was a long drive back to Elstree in the pouring rain: a long drive which gave me plenty of time to reflect on the evening's work and reach what turned out to be a life changing decision, and one of the best I have ever made.
That night I decided that I would do my level best to avoid any professional situation wherein I would return home liking music less than when I left the house.
It hasn't been completely foolproof and there are only very occasional slip-ups, but I seem to call it right somewhere in the upper nineties percent. It wasn't an easy decision to make as this was 1997, a year in which my regular, bill paying, 120 plus shows per year touring jazz show came to an abrupt halt, and I had found workload and income had taken a bit of a hit and for many months had been at a far lower level than that to which I was accustomed. I think I had been in a bit of a state of denial and had contented myself with the assurance that 'something will turn up'. This was easy to do and a common default setting for many musicians of a certain age because we came up at a time when there was all sorts of professional work out there and it wasn't necessary to plan in the way we do now. Nobody talked about 'networking' when I got started.
So was there more work about than now? Possibly not. The market was different though. There was still a relative abundance of freelance studio work compared to today. 'Session work' as it used to be, and in the four years or so since I had pitched my tent in outer London I had done enough stuff sufficiently well to be in the middle order of a few fixers' phone books and would pick up stuff if all the usual suspects were unavailable. These days a lot of the top guys have studio facilities in their houses. That was all but unheard of back then; top players just had houses, lots and lots of them in some instances.
These days if someone introduces or describes themselves as a 'session musician' you can be reasonable confident that they are not.
Back in those days even with no reputation at all you could put a small advert in the classified section of The Stage and if you chose your wording carefully could have your pick of work all year round. Mostly cruise ships and summer seasons, some of it not the greatest stuff ever but solid, dependable work which paid appropriately and almost always on time. This had been my route out of the local scene in the Midlands exactly ten years earlier in 1987. This was a time don't forget when the general average standard of musicianship was nothing like it is today. The virtuosi, superstar instrumentalists and the professional elite will always be there, but truly the last three decades have been an age of enlightenment for the average musician. The incredible resources at our disposal mean that average standards of playing ability and musical knowleedge are at unprecedentedly high levels. I run across great musicians (not just drummers) in all kinds of places on a regular basis. The bittersweet irony being that in spite of this boom in talent, appreciation of musicianship is quite possibly at an all-time low.
Funny, innit?
So, how did the inevitable twists and turns of my stream of keyboard consciousness get us here?
Ah, yes, superstition.
As previously stated the closest I get to superstition these days is depping on covers bands from time to time.
Having said that, I have got a bit of a thing about years that end in a '7'. I've already mentioned a couple of them earlier in this post and it isn't a coincidence.
Having been born with rhythmic DNA thanks to my parents I've been at this since before I could stand unassisted (sometimes I still can't but that's a slightly different matter).
Early days were filled with toy drums, Dad's practice kit, the arm of the sofa and a whole lot more, all to a soundtrack of the Dave Brubeck Quartet, followed by the Buddy Rich big band from 1967 onwards.
As far as 1967 goes there aren't a whole lot of career milestones with which to entertain you but a decade later it was a whole new ball game and it is the approach of a particular anniversary about a week ahead of the time of writing that inspired this.
The upcoming anniversary is of my first grown up, professional engagement, with grown up musicians for a grown up fee. Fourteen pounds, I've written about it before. It was at the Manor Hotel, Meriden, Warwickshire on the middle weekend of August 1977 and it marked a shift from tagging along with my Dad and sitting in for a few tunes to actually being mature, capable, and trusted enough to handle the gigs.
I was back there a couple of years ago and it had changed relatively little.
The other milestone in '77 was a concert at my school by the Midlands Youth Jazz Orchestra. They had played a concert the previous year which I had found out about after it had taken place. Had I known I could have potentially started that chapter of my career fully a year earlier, but I didn't, and 77 was the year that particular door got opened and would be a huge part of my life until late 1984.
1987 I already mentioned, and it was a two week relief stint on the much-missed Cunard Queen Elizabeth 2 that provided a glimpse into a whole world away from the Midlands scene; a scene from which I had learned and grown so much but by my early 20s the musician's wanderlust had formed an explosive mixture with burgeoning ambition and this was the year in which I began to make it happen.
1997 I have already documented as well, but that was the year when things dried up somewhat and I did have to live off my savings. (Savings, ha!! how funny that sounds now) so what was so good about that year you may ask.
What was good about it was this slightly unexpected downtime brought with it the opportunity to develop the big band, formed two years previously, to the point where we were in every respect ready to go into the studio and record the debut album 'Playing With Fire'. Had I said yes to the offer to enter the world of musical theatre the previous year I simply would not have had the time, and without the technology and resources that we take for granted today could not have masterminded the production of a big band record if I was living in theatrical digs in Darlington, or wherever.
So that was '97, and it continues the pattern of years in which I do groundwork that seems to stand me in good stead. That's not to say that I only achieve once in a decade but the pattern is there and 2007 did it again, as this was the year that Jason Keyte persuaded me to present an evening of Buddy Rich's music and Ian Palmer invited me to participate in the inaugural World's Greatest Drummer event. In my then 44 years that was probably the first time I had truly prepared for a live performance and knowing that we had legendary players including Steve White and Ian Paice on the bill I was determined to give the best possible account of myself to a sold out audience including much of the great and the good of the UK drum industry, hardly any of whom had any real idea who I was.
I think that worked out as planned, suffice to say that the ensuing decade has ticked all those boxes that remind you why you got so excited about learning to play in the first place.
As for 2017? The DVD crowdfunding initiative has been a huge success for which many thanks full details here, I'm about to record a quartet album which promises to be special, and there are one or two other things coming down the track about which more in the coming months.
So in short, get out there and make your own luck, and in so doing seek out people who will help you to do that.
For details about any of my bands, guest appearances, private lessons, masterclasses etc, contact me here.
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