I began playing double bass when I was five years old. They didn’t really have tiny basses back then, so I learned to play on a cello tuned with bass strings. I don’t remember exactly why I chose to play the bass, but I do remember feeling special because I did something a bit more off the beaten path. After studying music in college, I got really discouraged for a few years and essentially quit playing. I think I needed that time and space to realize just how important music-making, and music-sharing, actually is to me. Now I'm back, and I'm working harder than ever to become the musician, and the person, that I know I can be.
Every note in a composition embodies a decision - a composer's choice to thwart, delight, surprise, tense, release, scare - and it is these decisions that combine to shape a piece’s unique musical narrative. I believe that as performers, it is our responsibility to not only study the what of these decisions, but also attempt to understand the why. When we approach music on this fundamental level, we can to communicate its true design - not just the stories or emotions that its sound evokes, but also it's musical content and development.
We follow a narrow pathway through the forest. At each turn stands a signpost, marking clearly the direction for us to travel. Sometimes there are surprises - a sudden turn or unexpected detour - but we’ve tread this path many times and can anticipate the route. We spend much of the journey looking at our feet, careful not to trip on a root or twist our ankle on a stone. What would happen if we left the trail? Would we get lost in the forest, or would we find our own path, our own truth, along the way?