U.S. Navy School of Music, Graduation Speech 6/25/10
As noted in the previous entry, I was recently given the honor of giving the graduation address at the U.S. Navy School of Music in Norfolk, VA. A friend suggested I post it, and so I have. Some things you should know: CDR Ralph Ingraham is the Commanding Officer of the Navy School of Music. It was he who invited me to give the speech, which tied in nicely with the performance of Unbreakable in which he led the School's concert band the evening before. The graduation ceremony included a review of the troops, which CDR Ingraham and I did. You should also know that once in a while I deviated from my written speech, but only in spots and only to rephrase something slightly. Note that the use of the word "rare" below is an understatement: I am the first civilian to give such an address. Lastly, please note that none of this is meant to be ironic or sarcastic.
Graduation Speech for U.S. Navy School of Music, June 25, 2010
Commander Ingraham, thank you, as well as the faculty and staff of the School of Music, for the honor and privilege of speaking today. I understand that it is rare for a civilian to be afforded such an opportunity, and I avail myself of it with great admiration for your service and dedication to our country and the sobering knowledge such service is by no means limited to music. Whether you serve here at the School of Music being musicians and helping musicians in training in their development, or on foreign soil protecting the principles and ideals that are the foundation of our country, please know that what you do is important, greatly respected, and appreciated beyond words.
For those of you graduating today, I have been asked to offer you words of advice and, frankly, I am concerned. I never served in the military, so there is nothing I can offer about what it takes to be a sailor, soldier, or marine. You must rely on your commanding officers and your own experience and good sense for that. But you are graduating from the School of Music, and that gives me an advantage: I can talk about being a musician and I can speak from experience. And maybe, just maybe, you can apply what I have to say to the military aspects of your life as well as to the musical ones.
My first advice is listen. Whether you're playing an instrument or singing, listen to what you're doing. Is your instrument tuned properly? Are there any extraneous squeaks, squawks, rattles, buzzes? Singers, brass players, and wind players, are you breathing properly, supporting phrases and extreme notes in your range? More importantly perhaps, what is the music you are making? Are you just playing the notes to get to the end, or are you saying something? Listen to yourself, your inner self, as well. Play, sing, speak, and do from your heart, and let your mind have a say as well. Listen to your fellow musicians; whether you're playing classical chamber music or in a small jazz group, the best music is made when everyone pays attention not only to what they themselves are doing but also to what their colleagues are creating. And while the word "listen" technically doesn't apply, watch the conductor - at least once in a while. Listen to what your colleagues have to say too; listening is often the best way to find out what you have in common with other people.
Remember that there is a huge difference between hearing and listening. Hearing is passive; it is an unconscious (or at least subconscious) act. Passive hearing turns music into something just going on in an elevator, or played over speakers in restaurants. You are not engaged with the music. Listening, on the other hand, is active; you are aware you are doing it, and sometimes it takes a bit of work. Listening to music, not just hearing it, allows you to find learn about it if it's new to you, or to delve deeper into its complexities, or just to find different ways to appreciate it. Listening to your fellow musician, your fellow sailor, soldier, or marine, can accomplish some similar things.
My next bit of advice is quite obvious. The old joke tells of a violinist new to New York City, lost on the streets of Manhattan trying to get to his first gig. He stops someone and asks, "How do you get to Carnegie Hall?" To which he is told, "Practice, practice, practice." Like some old jokes, this one isn't as funny as it is true. But what does "practice" mean? Practice means, at least on one level, work. If you want to be the best trumpeter, for example, you're going to have to put in the time on your horn. Practice. You want to be the best conductor? You're going to need a lot of podium time, leading all types and sizes of ensembles with different levels of technical abilities. That's practice. The inventor Thomas Edison said "Success is 1 percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration." A composer develops as a writer of new music learns music theory and counterpoint, but also by writing, which to me is the same as practice. Practice good musician habits - treat your instrument with care and respect, and do the same with your fellow musicians, with your fellow man or woman, and with the world itself. Practice good human being habits. In Judaism there is a concept called Tikkun Olam - heal the world. That concept appears in all the world's religions, and for good reason. No matter what you are required to do in the service of your country, whether it's playing a fanfare or going on patrol in a place that is literally foreign to you, realize that in some way you are doing so to heal the world in some way.
Here's a piece of advice that I admit has been the hardest for me to learn. By all means take music, your music, seriously; take what you do, what you create, as seriously as you can. But try not to take yourself too seriously. Egos should be healthy, but don't let them rule. When I have been lucky enough to conduct some of the Navy and Army bands in my own music, I sometimes wear a tee shirt to rehearsals that I had made up. The front says "Blame the Composer"; the back says "Blame the Conductor." What I mean by this example is be open to having fun, even when you're working hard as all get out. Smile from time to time; if nothing else it improves some embouchures.
My last recommendation is to remember from time to time why you became a musician in the first place, and why you serve our country as a musician as well as a member of the Navy, Army, and Marines. I, for one, am glad, awed, and proud you did, and I am humbled to have had the opportunity to address you today.
Thank you.
Steven L. Rosenhaus
June 25, 2010
Norfolk, VA
Graduation Speech for U.S. Navy School of Music, June 25, 2010
Commander Ingraham, thank you, as well as the faculty and staff of the School of Music, for the honor and privilege of speaking today. I understand that it is rare for a civilian to be afforded such an opportunity, and I avail myself of it with great admiration for your service and dedication to our country and the sobering knowledge such service is by no means limited to music. Whether you serve here at the School of Music being musicians and helping musicians in training in their development, or on foreign soil protecting the principles and ideals that are the foundation of our country, please know that what you do is important, greatly respected, and appreciated beyond words.
For those of you graduating today, I have been asked to offer you words of advice and, frankly, I am concerned. I never served in the military, so there is nothing I can offer about what it takes to be a sailor, soldier, or marine. You must rely on your commanding officers and your own experience and good sense for that. But you are graduating from the School of Music, and that gives me an advantage: I can talk about being a musician and I can speak from experience. And maybe, just maybe, you can apply what I have to say to the military aspects of your life as well as to the musical ones.
My first advice is listen. Whether you're playing an instrument or singing, listen to what you're doing. Is your instrument tuned properly? Are there any extraneous squeaks, squawks, rattles, buzzes? Singers, brass players, and wind players, are you breathing properly, supporting phrases and extreme notes in your range? More importantly perhaps, what is the music you are making? Are you just playing the notes to get to the end, or are you saying something? Listen to yourself, your inner self, as well. Play, sing, speak, and do from your heart, and let your mind have a say as well. Listen to your fellow musicians; whether you're playing classical chamber music or in a small jazz group, the best music is made when everyone pays attention not only to what they themselves are doing but also to what their colleagues are creating. And while the word "listen" technically doesn't apply, watch the conductor - at least once in a while. Listen to what your colleagues have to say too; listening is often the best way to find out what you have in common with other people.
Remember that there is a huge difference between hearing and listening. Hearing is passive; it is an unconscious (or at least subconscious) act. Passive hearing turns music into something just going on in an elevator, or played over speakers in restaurants. You are not engaged with the music. Listening, on the other hand, is active; you are aware you are doing it, and sometimes it takes a bit of work. Listening to music, not just hearing it, allows you to find learn about it if it's new to you, or to delve deeper into its complexities, or just to find different ways to appreciate it. Listening to your fellow musician, your fellow sailor, soldier, or marine, can accomplish some similar things.
My next bit of advice is quite obvious. The old joke tells of a violinist new to New York City, lost on the streets of Manhattan trying to get to his first gig. He stops someone and asks, "How do you get to Carnegie Hall?" To which he is told, "Practice, practice, practice." Like some old jokes, this one isn't as funny as it is true. But what does "practice" mean? Practice means, at least on one level, work. If you want to be the best trumpeter, for example, you're going to have to put in the time on your horn. Practice. You want to be the best conductor? You're going to need a lot of podium time, leading all types and sizes of ensembles with different levels of technical abilities. That's practice. The inventor Thomas Edison said "Success is 1 percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration." A composer develops as a writer of new music learns music theory and counterpoint, but also by writing, which to me is the same as practice. Practice good musician habits - treat your instrument with care and respect, and do the same with your fellow musicians, with your fellow man or woman, and with the world itself. Practice good human being habits. In Judaism there is a concept called Tikkun Olam - heal the world. That concept appears in all the world's religions, and for good reason. No matter what you are required to do in the service of your country, whether it's playing a fanfare or going on patrol in a place that is literally foreign to you, realize that in some way you are doing so to heal the world in some way.
Here's a piece of advice that I admit has been the hardest for me to learn. By all means take music, your music, seriously; take what you do, what you create, as seriously as you can. But try not to take yourself too seriously. Egos should be healthy, but don't let them rule. When I have been lucky enough to conduct some of the Navy and Army bands in my own music, I sometimes wear a tee shirt to rehearsals that I had made up. The front says "Blame the Composer"; the back says "Blame the Conductor." What I mean by this example is be open to having fun, even when you're working hard as all get out. Smile from time to time; if nothing else it improves some embouchures.
My last recommendation is to remember from time to time why you became a musician in the first place, and why you serve our country as a musician as well as a member of the Navy, Army, and Marines. I, for one, am glad, awed, and proud you did, and I am humbled to have had the opportunity to address you today.
Thank you.
Steven L. Rosenhaus
June 25, 2010
Norfolk, VA