Trevor Meagher – Trombonist

If there’s a single thing that I’ve learned over the past several years as I’ve intensified my artistic pursuit, it’s this: Be certain that the future will remain uncertain. We can make plans, we can attempt to foresee and prepare for every conceivable eventuality, but inevitably, SOMETHING changes. For me, this included everything ranging from my choice of university to very mindset with which I approach my horn (and indeed my life) every day. Simply put: Things change. Uncertainty occurs.

That being said, however, it’s still important to have a plan; to be working towards some goal or destination while still acknowledging and accepting the ‘curveballs’ along the way. As it stands, my plan is as follows.

As far as my college education is concerned, I intend to continue pursuing my performance degree as my primary vehicle to develop my art. Additionally, I plan to seek minors in Arts Entrepreneurship and English. The Entrepreneurship minor will undoubtedly aid me in preparing for an extremely selective career; learning effective ways to initiate and maintain business connections will be invaluable knowledge in developing a musical future. I’m good with people: my compassion and heart allow me to connect well and bond closely with many, but the minor itself will help me learn how to utilize these interpersonal relations within the context of the professional world. The English minor is a separate matter: aside from my intense passion for literature, poetry, reading, and writing, I believe it is important to develop a philosophical approach to one’s craft, be it music, dance, bricklaying, scientific research, or any other profession. The words of the great authors, essayists, and poets offer us portals to broaden our minds, discover the world and ourselves, and ultimately GIVE MEANING to our labors. They give us the opportunity to not only increase our proficiency in expression, but also to stand for something, to contribute to the great catalog of spiritual achievement of humanity. For me, this minor will not only be the pursuit of a passion, not only a tool to make me a more well-rounded, three-dimensional, and ultimately employable person, but more importantly, will also aid my art in itself: I firmly believe that literature expands the soul, and an expanded soul leads to more profound art and more productive pursuits thereof.

Just over a year and a half ago, I had an epiphany. I was in Chicago for a masterclass with Michael Mulcahy, 2^nd Trombone in the Chicago Symphony and Trombone Professor at Northwestern University. Up to that point in my life, I had nothing more than vague, extreme ambitions for my career: I wanted to be in one of the ‘big time’ orchestras, and I ultimately (inadvertently!) viewed anything short of that dream as failure. This class was my first true musical experience outside of my native Texan high school arena, and I was surrounded by musicians who were stellar. Inspiring. None of which I had ever heard of. Every time I heard one of my fellow participants play that week, I came closer to understanding that my plan needed to change. One day, the ‘switch’ occurred: my goal altered from “I want to be in a ‘big time’ orchestra” to “I want to perform up to my highest potential, make a living, and BE HAPPY, regardless of what orchestra or gig I achieve.”

Though the shift seems simple – from fantastical to slightly more grounded (but still ambitious) – it had a profound effect on me, as well as the very mindset with which I approach music.

Things changed. If anything, though, the clearer vision of “what I want” only intensified my desire to chase it.

Ultimately, the plan, in its simplest, roughest form, stands as this:

* Pursue the aforementioned degrees, followed by graduate studies in performance

* PRACTICE PRACTICE PRACTICE

* Continue to develop myself both as a musician and a person

* Use the connections which I’ve been lucky to forge – teachers, mentors, friends, and colleagues – to better myself and my future prospects.

* Be open to new paths and ideas

And, most importantly,

* BE HAPPY

This one will be short, and there are MANY more updates on the way. As soon as I get time, that is!

In self-assessing my skills, it becomes necessary to take an inventory both of what I HAVE and what I NEED to develop. As I see it, the list of the best skills I HAVE, as of right now, is as follows, as well as some brief elaborations. Though at first these may appear more akin to attributes, I see a skill in the discovery of how to APPLY an attribute effectively.

• Determination : I’m pretty dogged. I stick with things, and, if something matters to me, I simply don’t give up on it. I wouldn’t be me if I did. So too with my artistic and personal pursuits. Never surrender!
• Application of Intellect: I have an agile mind, and I know how to use it, which allows me to focus the aforementioned determination extremely efficiently. This makes for VERY productive practice sessions, when used correctly.
• Musicality: Thanks to several fantastic teachers in my past, a sense of innate musicality has been instilled in me. This allows me to overcome and understand many musical hurtles that could possibly ‘trip up’ my peers.
• Application of Passion: As evidenced by my previous posts, I’m a man of passion. I can use this musically, in a humanitarian way, or in any number of personal or artistic pursuits that can further my goals or my ability to aid the human spirit as an artist.

Should I ever be lucky enough to find myself in a situation with a potential investor or partner, this is my tentative self-marketing strategy; my “elevator pitch”.

Hi, I’m Trevor Meagher, and I want to save the American identity. The reason American orchestras are struggling isn’t the economy; it’s the culture. We’re losing ourselves as a people because we’ve neglected our art. We need to cultivate a love of music with people; to show them that this isn’t stale or outdated; it’s a beautiful, GROWING world. The way to truly connect with an audience isn’t advertising or gimmicks, it’s through the heartfelt honesty of performers themselves. We need to use every ounce of our energy and passion to forge a path into our audiences’ hearts, to share our music and ourselves. An artist bears the privilege of stewarding humanity’s souls. I can do that; I can be such a steward. Here’s my card.

When discussing my artistic motivations, I’m forced to come to terms with a variety of things, many—in fact most—of which I still have yet to fully understand. I’m by no means done with even the initiation of my learning, and consequently, so many of these things are in flux, the unhealthy transforming (hopefully!) into the healthy, and the healthy strengthening into even stronger foundations.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve always had a passion for learning and growing myself. When I get fascinated by a subject, I want to delve into it, completely immersing myself in it until I can grasp not only every fact I’m capable of understanding, but also their implications and subtleties. This is certainly far from the case in all of my academic pursuits (I simply can’t work up a passion for many of the more hard-line logical and mathematical disciplines such as chemistry, physics, calculus, computer science, etc…) but for the most part, I revel in the chance to learn. Though for most of my life this has manifested itself most clearly in my enthusiastic study of more philosophical, abstract, and humanitarian/“liberal arts”- type subjects (literature, languages, ethics, history, etc.), since my discovery of my musical calling, I’ve easily applied it here as well. I love to learn and grow, to expand my mind and better my soul through study and practice, both intellectual and musical. I’ve said it many times before: my practice room is my church. It’s where I take my problems, my aspirations and hopes, my goals, and my drive and determination. It’s where I confront my demons and shape myself. With progress and understanding comes growth, and with growth comes the insatiable hunger for more progress and understanding.

On the other hand, I’ve also always been extremely competitive and, quite honestly, impatient. I inherently want to ‘win’, be it at whatever endeavor. I want to prove myself to my mentors, my peers, and ultimately myself. I get easily frustrated with slow progress, resulting from when my ambition outweighs my patience. Growing up in a public school culture that endorses and feeds such competitiveness in academics and extracurricular activities did me no favors, as (especially musically) I always felt pushed by competitions like the All-State Band audition process to ‘get better than everyone else, FASTER than everyone else’, regardless of the consequences. This led to shortcuts unintentionally taken and ultimately distorted my view of HOW to approach my inherent passion for a very long time. Because I was so passionate and driven, I was willing to do anything to get better, which, coupled with the impressed mentality that the best progress is fast, flawless, unyielding progress, led me to seek all of the answers, solutions, and ‘AHA! Quick-fixes’ that I could come across. I learned that mistakes are bad, and that ‘good playing’, no matter how unhealthily produced, is good.

It was a road to Hell paved with the good intention of a genuine desire to improve artistically.

During my junior year of high school, I was forced to finally confront how destructive this mentality is. I found myself faced with severe self-confidence issues caused by the manifestation of my genetic predisposition to anxiety problems amidst the development of what became the most significant hurdle of my musical career to date. I became outright fearful at even the thought of practicing due to the constant difficulty I was having with my instrument. There were many days I had to simply force myself to practice for as long as I could bear to hear myself play. I came away from nearly every practice session in either a blind rage at myself or with tears of frustration nearly streaming down my face. I was deriving almost no joy from what I had previously felt to be my calling in life. It was devastating and extremely difficult to say the least. The aforementioned mindset that mistakes are ‘bad’ wreaked havoc on me, leading me to believe that I was incompetent and destined to musical failure.

In the heart’s deep core, however, the same flame that had always fueled my true passions continued to burn. I wanted it. I wanted to be better. Not to make my parents proud or to win the best job or get into the best school, or even to win against all of my competitors. I wanted it for ME. I wanted to fulfill my potential because without the quest, the journey, the growth, the connection to life and the collective human soul brought to me by music I did not feel whole. The negative aspects of my ambition, corrupted by impatience and fear, may have covered my true motivations, but they did not – could not – smother them or snuff them out.

The two moments that began to erode the destructive prison I had built for myself both occurred in Chicago.

The first was my lesson in April of 2011 with Michael Mulcahy, professor of trombone at Northwestern University and 2^nd trombone in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Without going into extreme detail, I left the lesson with my conceptions of ‘success’ and ‘progress’ significantly challenged by a simple philosophy he impressed to me. Summed up (but not verbatim), it is as follows:

“Progress is a SLOW and SIGNIFICANT process that comes from the daily devotion to the building of excellent habits. Mistakes and difficulty are to be expected, it’s how you learn from them that counts.”

For the first time, I began to understand that it was okay to not seek instant performance perfection, that mistakes are only mistakes if we allow them to control us.

The second moment came several months later, when I had returned to Chicago to take a weeklong masterclass, again taught by Professor Mulcahy. Work, practice, and progress were still painful 99% of the time, but they had become easier to bear. The burden of my own mind had begun to lift.  This was my first real musical experience outside of a Texas high school environment (as mentioned above for its competitive culture). Here were fantastic musicians from around the world, performing in a way that blew my mind, most of whom I had never heard of. While walking to Navy Pier during an off-day from the class, a feeling, an epiphany washed over me, struck me so deeply and profoundly that I simply stood, momentarily shocked to stillness. If I ever performed at anywhere NEAR the level of any of the other participants in the class, so long as I knew that I was fulfilling my potential and being honest with myself about my goals, abilities, strengths, and weaknesses, I would be happy. It wouldn’t matter what orchestra I performed in or what school I went to. Artistic fulfillment transcends those things.

That was the climax (so far) of my struggle with ‘bad’, self-destructive motivation. The path began to move slowly and steadily more positively after that day. It’s been far from easy; many days still felt like two steps back for every one forward, but slowly, so subtly as to be almost imperceptible, things began to shift. To improve. I still panicked occasionally (especially around college audition season) and still struggled for many days, but beneath it all laid a newfound security in not only the knowledge, but the UNDERSTANDING that the road to true success and fulfillment is long, narrow, and never any semblance of straight. Even though I still occasionally find difficulty battling my own fear-based and negative motivation, I’m so much closer to fully understanding and harnessing my positive ambition, that same self-fueling passion that’s always driven me in the pursuits I love.

It’s a difficult thing to do, extricating the good motivation from beneath the bad, but it’s an important step in every artist’s journey, a step that I’m still working on, but that I love every second of. I owe a great deal of thanks in this to my teachers, past and present, and they’ll be the subjects of a post very soon.

I am motivated – truly, positively motivated – by the desire to improve myself, to grow, to learn, to understand, to fulfill my artistic potential and my soul, and above all, to share my heart and my passion to connect with my audience. Performers are, above all, conduits for the human experience. The more complete the conduit, the more profound the experience for performer and for audience.

Just over a decade ago, a movie called Moulin Rouge! hit theaters. By now, after seeing it dozens of times, I can confidently say that it is one of my absolute favorite pieces of filmmaking, of art, in the world. Though the plot is a tragic love story in the vein of the Orpheus myth, ultimately the movie boils down to a simple meaning, expressed in the beginning of the film by the protagonist:

“I believe in beauty. I believe in freedom. I believe in truth. And above all else, I believe in love.”

It comes off as quite simple, almost naïve at first, but as the film progresses, these principles become ever-more central to the plot, the characters, and the message of the work as a whole.

Similarly, the novel Don Quixote, originally a satire, ultimately lauds the virtues of hope, of love, of chivalry, and of idealism in the face of a bleak reality.

It’s hard to do. The best things in life are. In the search for fulfillment and happiness (which I believe should be the ultimate goal of every life) we often stumble. We hit roadblocks and obstacles. We lose sight of our goals, seeking instead approval (this is a problem for me) and bowing to competitive ambition (again, a problem for me). We become impatient (unfortunately, a problem here as well) and frustrated when the road is not easily-navigated. We falter. We overwhelm ourselves. But, as a favorite poet of mine claimed: “How can you ever know how tall you are if you never find yourself in over your head?”

My personal view on life lies at the crossroads of all of these things. Everything that we do, as artists, as friends, as lovers, and as human beings, should be in service of some greater good, be it the aid of others or the personal fulfillment of one’s soul or love. We should strive to bring out the best of ourselves, to never accept compromise of the sanctity of our hearts. To do so is to betray everything we love, everything we hope for, and everything we stand for. We cannot eliminate or hide our faults. We can’t forget them or pretend they don’t exist: there’s a line between idealism and ignorance. We can, however, shape our faults into strengths. We can acknowledge them, learn them, come to know them as intimately as we know every other part of our personality, and in doing so, we can gain a clearer picture of WHO we are. That clearer picture, that knowledge, can be the difference between a lost soul and a stalwart champion of the heart.

These are my creeds. I believe in never surrendering. I believe in love, be it of a person, an idea, an art, or a life. I believe in passion and hope and honor and chivalrousness. I believe in tilting at windmills and marching into Hell with no looking back, should it be for a just cause. I believe in the inherent value of life, of free will, and of the heart. I believe in romance, valor, and knights-errant. I believe in finding the One and realizing the true self and its destiny. Without these, we are nothing; we are less than animals; we are wretches. With them, no goal is unattainable.

No two people see the world the same way. That’s why there isn’t any single clear answer. For one, religion may be salvation, for another, an inexplicable burden. For one, music may be the glue that holds the universe together, for another, math.  These things, along with so many others, make us who we are, define for us the path which we each must walk to gain fulfillment and enlightenment for ourselves. No two people are the same, and thus, no two paths are the same.

I value individualism. I believe that happiness is a journey, NOT a destination. I value the heart and the spirit and the mind. I believe that any action in service to what these things truly feel, truly KNOW is right and just, is truly a just action. The most heinous of deeds done in service of righteousness is more forgivable than the most noble of ruses for a base cause. We must do good. Whether for others’ happiness and wellbeing or the realization of ourselves and our own fulfillment, we must do good.

I believe that the greatest madness of all is seeing the world as it is, and not as it should be.

I have never been graced with what I would consider an inordinate amount of ‘talent’ for music. That’s part of the reason why I love it. I can’t rely on my natural abilities. Everything I accomplish comes from grit and determination. Thusly, practice and work habits are very special topics for me.

Needless to say, practice is essential for any artist, especially a performing artist. By nature of our craft, we have to know our material, our strengths and weaknesses, and even our own physiological and psychological traits like the metaphorical back of our hand. In order to fulfill our potential, we have to be so in-tune with ourselves that we can tap into our reservoirs of skills at any time. It’s difficult to develop this. It is a process that requires more than simple repetition or understanding of a new concept until we’ve mastered it; it is a process that requires we delve into our very essence in order to best learn how to incorporate these skills into ourselves and know ourselves well enough so that we can perform at the highest level.

I admit, until recently, I was never a “smart” practicer. For a long time – longer than it should have been – I was only concerned with logging hours in on the horn. If I did not hit ‘x’ number of hours a day, then I wasn’t doing right. It didn’t matter to me how I practiced, only that I did. This led to more than a small amount of mindlessness in my sessions: I would sit for hour-long blocks of time simply drilling something until I was either satisfied, too frustrated, or too exhausted to move on. I didn’t give much thought to efficiency in my practice. To me, the formula was simple:

Length of session x number of sessions = inevitable success

I realized in my junior year of high school just how wrong this was. I pushed myself without regard for my mental or physical health. Commonly, I would play for 6 hours or more a day with little to no rest. It’s important to note that I was practicing bad habits – constant extreme volume, physical pressure and tension, little-to-no warm-up or any semblance of a daily routine, and no regard for the efficiency of my practice, my mental focus or emotional state. I would try to shrug off any stress as necessary, and only frustrate myself into paralysis when I could not use brute force to make things work the way I wanted. My heart was in the right place, but passion, especially blind passion, can be misplaced. I soon discovered that this practice plan was unsustainable when my playing seemed to collapse. I became unable to play with any sort of nuance. I developed a horrific “double buzz”, and any sort of playing became incredibly difficult. To paraphrase a post by one of my heroes (Toby Oft), I was running on adrenaline. I couldn’t practice without the adrenaline that I had become so acclimatized to using, and I had developed a tolerance to it.

That was really only the beginning. Not long after these things started happening, my genetic predisposition for anxiety issues began to manifest itself. I was constantly worrying. I would practice myself to emotional and physical tatters, then spend the remainder of my day compulsively worrying and fretting over my practice, thus entering subsequent sessions with a negative mindset. My self-confidence collapsed along with my playing. I was a constant emotional and mental wreck, and these problems bled over into the rest of my life. I suffered from regular panic and anxiety attacks about everything from my playing to my schoolwork and personal life. My life was characterized by tension and worry. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy: overexertion and strain led to panic, tension, stress, and shattered confidence, which led to more exertion, and so on. It was disastrous in every area of my life, to say the least.

The beginning of my salvation came in the form of a teacher. I had not had private lessons with any sort of consistency in over a year at this point, and so, when I recognized that the situation was beyond my help, I stopped pursuing a dead-end and began to seek an expert teacher who could help me not only repair the damage I’d caused myself, but set me on the right track to grow in the future. The private teacher I found and studied with during my senior year, Dennis Bubert, was exactly what I needed, when I needed it. More will come on that in a future blog post – I plan on writing a detailed list of my acknowledgements and thanks that I owe to the teachers that have shaped me.

Mr. Bubert began to instill in me the value of QUALITY practice above QUANTITY of practice. Likewise, I came to my own understanding of the emotional elements of practice. I began seeking ways to quell my ever-active nerves and over-analytical, easily frustrated mind in the hopes of finding the best way to access “the zone” where frustration is high enough to motivate progress and growth, but not so high that it becomes unbearable, distracting, or destructive. I sought therapeutic consultation for my anxiety. I began more regular physical exercise to release tension and frustration. I nurtured my love of writing in order to better cope with my emotions. I began meditative practices in the hopes of learning how to focus my mind. I began to make efforts to eat in a healthier manner (that one is still in the works). I developed serious, supportive, healthy relationships to prevent myself from hermitage.

It all worked.

Though my practice is still far from perfect, it’s improving. I’ve taken more significant strides in the last year than in the previous 5. It’s not fast. It’s not easy. But it’s worth it.  With the commencement of my studies at SMU, my habits are again being thrown for a loop. I’m trying to break many old habits and relearn much of what has become ingrained in me. I’m taking steps to further increase my efficiency in practice: more, shorter (often 20 minutes) sessions with small, 5-10 minute breaks in between to regain my mental focus, with several hours separating every 2 or 3 sessions. Each session is short, but intensely focused – often I come away more mentally fatigued after twenty minutes than after an hour of my old type of practicing.  These ‘small chunks’ require the utmost dedication and focus. I don’t allow myself the chance to practice bad habits generated from mental over exhaustion. I don’t allow myself the luxury of ‘time to waste’ in a session.

I still have a lot of growing and learning to do, and these next years will try me to the limit, but I’m up for it. It’s a journey, not a destination, and the quest to find ever-more-efficient, effective, smart, and HEALTHY practice habits and work ethic are at the forefront of my priorities.

Again. It’s not fast. It’s not easy. But it’s worth it.

Progress, true progress, is slow. Progress is significant. Progress comes from the intelligent and wise practice of excellence until it in itself becomes the habit.

For those interested, here is the link to Toby Oft’s post.

As of August 26, 2012, my website/blog is live! I’ll try to keep posts as frequent and significant as possible, including one coming later today or tomorrow. But for now, welcome to the site!