[Appenianags]

...since we're in a confessional mood here I'm going to take a page from Mister Lazzerinni's book and offer up a brief biographical sketch. This is primarily directed at Mr. Yodi, who seems to have gotten it into his head that I'm some kind of jazz snob.

Aside from a brief stint at VCC at age 22 (where I promptly dropped all courses that were in any way scary or challenging and slacked away in ensembles and private lessons with Fraser Macpherson only) I had nothing whatsoever to do with higher education until I was 37. Hell, I didn't even have anything to do with LOWER education. I took a hike from the public school system at age 13 (technically this makes you a truant but nobody ever came looking for me. I guess I fell through the cracks) because it was interferring with my preferred activities of growing my hair and smoking dope. I took up saxophone at 17 (I'd played clarinet in junior symphony from age ten) and started gigging in crappy little blues bands. Eventually this morphed into playing in strip clubs, then various night club acts and blues guys, some well known (like Albert Collins) others less so. I backed up oldies acts like the Coasters and The Drifters. I drifted and wandered. My early experiments with weed, speed and psychedelics turned into something much darker. And all through this I was a thoroughly average player, just enough chops to get by on the bottom-feeder gigs that I had.

Eventually it it dawned on me that I was bored rigid. The only thing that kept the gigs interesting were the drugs and alcohol that I consumed on them. And even that was getting to be...a problem. Sometimes Mr. Brain would send a message to Mr. Fingers, and Mr. Jack Daniels would prevent it from arriving in time.

I finally dealt with the dope and gargle issues (with a lot of help from Bill W. and his friends) and discovered that, sober, I really liked playing music. Since I'm the sort of person who's basically lazy and needs an agenda imposed from without (you hit the nail on the head there Yodi. I'm the very picture of the institutionalized man) I decided to go back to school. Some people can develop intelligent courses of study on their own. I'm not one of them. I have a tendency to kid myself about how well I'm doing, to spin my wheels down blind alleys, and to succumb to the sin of pride.

First I went back to VCC. This was a humbling experience since I was as old (and sometimes older) than some of the faculty, and my fellow student from my first go-round there, Alan Matheson, was now teaching there. I had a ball nontheless, and studied privately with David Branter.

After three years at VCC, I went to UBC, starting in 1994.Aside from Fred Strides big band, there was no jazz performance program there, but I still regard it as a very rewarding experience. I played fiendishly difficult classical repertoire, debuted a number of pieces written for various saxophones, and made friends and contacts I maintain to this day.

While all this was going on, I also started picking up work conducting various community bands and orchestras, ran a tuesday night jam session at Murphy's Pub (this went on for four years. I met and played with a huge cross-section of the Vancouver jazz community there) developed a private teaching practise, and began writing and selling articles to various publications. This is where the 'real-world-school-world' divide falls apart for me. I always had a foot in both, and I think many music students do. It's a financial necessity for some of us, and a career advantage for all of us. You wind up gigging with your teachers, or hiring them on your own casuals. I do this with my own students now. It's my way of 'paying it forward.'


Last fall, when I took three of my best students along with me to play an art gallery opening in New Orleans, the piano player said to me,"Man, I learned more tonight than in a year of combo 101 rehearsals." So, Mike, that'd be my major change to jazz school curriculum. Credit for 'wallpaper gig casual 101."

And maybe a "Phil Woods Touring 101" credit. You know, where you drive around in a bus for 12 hours, get out, set up, play, get back in the bus. Repeat for 3 months. Then the final exam has one question on it.

"Do you still want to do this for a living?"