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Third Prize: Emily A. Pecoraro
Guilford High School
Guilford, Connecticut
The "Here and Now"
Every musician has one defining moment in his or her career which sparked their passion. I, unlike most, am fortunate enough to have physical documentation.
The average household refrigerator usually features a scattered hodgepodge of old photos, prized finger-paintings, quizzes or tests. When you look at my refrigerator, yes, you do see the magnets, the pictures, et cetera, but one photo stands out: one particular moment in time framed by childhood accomplishments. This picture is of my very first high school concert, in which I was brought in to play clarinet for the jazz band's application to the Essentially Ellington competition.
Every year for more than a decade, the jazz band has auditioned for the Essentially Ellington competition. My first year at the high school, the saxophone section had no doublers: I was asked to play the clarinet with these senior musicians on the tune V.I.P.'s Boogie. Me: A freshman!
The band had practiced, rehearsed, practiced, recorded, and prayed to the jazz gods for success as we approached the apex of our musical plight: the concert, where we would perform for the entire community. I was a bundle of nerves backstage – for it was my first concert as a high school student – and was desperately trying to get myself into character, to be able to transcend the black dots on the page. The director, as a motivational pep-talk, told me to play and to exist solely in the "here and now," meaning to become totally encompassed in the music itself; "if you make a mistake, play through it. Constantly be focused on where you are in the music right here, right now, and make it your own." This concept got me thinking about how Duke ran his band: The clarinet solo I was about to play was not written for "second tenor," but was crafted specifically for Jimmy Hamilton. Duke knew his players, and he knew what they could do, so he wrote individual parts with particular attention to the abilities of each band member. The music was written intentionally so that the player could make it his or her own; the player would, theoretically, always be in his or her own personal "here and now."
The concert began. As I stood to play and raised my clarinet to my lips, something clicked. I felt a strange awareness of the music: I was in the "here and now." I played the solo and the final cadenzas not as a mechanical Jimmy Hamilton-prototype, but as me; the clarinet player, the musician. Coming to a wailing finish on the sustained high F, I knew what I had accomplished: I had become a part of a force greater than myself – I had become the music.
The crowd roared and leapt to its feet, as if a single entity, and this photo which holds a place of honor on my refrigerator was taken. Every concert, audition, rehearsal, or even practice session I have taken part in since that first concert has taken place in my "here and now." My mental approach is as Duke's was: Get into the music, because that's what it's all about.
Now, as a high school senior, I look back with appreciation on that defining moment when jazz touched my life. I learned what it truly means to play music; something that I will never forget. Although this photo may someday fade, the music my soul never will.
Return to the Essentially Ellington Essay Contest
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Essentially Ellington
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