How to survive Jazz Workshops
For sheer raw courage in the face of adversity, then your first bungee jump or your first jazz workshop are on a par. “Oh, my God, they’ll see I can’t play. I’ll forget everything. Can’t I just sneak in and watch?”
Two things to remember. First, everyone without exception will know what you are going through and will be nice to you. Guaranteed. They’ve got the same T-shirt. Workshop players and tutors are the nicest people in the entire universe.
Secondly, you can always turn down the amp and play quietly – at least until they catch on to what you are doing. Jazz workshop are all very different from each other. Some of them are permanently tutored – Brighton Co-op always has a tutor every week and tutors vary. Lewes always uses guitarist Piers Clarke as its tutor. Some have no tutors but are led by experienced people, some have occasional tutors. Some of them are much more advanced than others – one in Greenwich led by bassist Dave Silk has professional players from the major Symphony Concerts turning up for light relief each week.
You will quickly find out that all jazz workshops are incredibly irritating. First, no one knows what music they are supposed to play, no one knows what music they should have practised in the past week, there are too many players, there are too few players, or too many saxophones and no piano, bass nor drums. Jazz Drummers, like vultures in India, are a declining species. But also like vultures in India they are necessary – (in India there is no other way to dispose of sacred animals)
You hope and pray that you know the song already. You don’t, then someone always starts before you have looked through the piece. You don’t know when your solo starts, - that’s all right no one else knows when their turn is either. The music is always in the wrong key for the singer, and two-thirds of the players want to play something else anyway.
Jazz workshops are always like this just so that beginners have something to complain about and it serves to reduce their own anxiety.
You’ll survive jazz workshops by remembering that there is always someone else to blame.
