Jazz musicians, or any artists for that matter, strive to live in the moment.
Living in the moment is a very vital part of making music. It means letting go of everything you’ve learnt and to trust in the “now.” From the first note that I play, all of my troubles of the day no longer matter, and it’s in these truly free moments that true creation is free to happen. Everything I was, and will be, ceases to exist; and it’s just me and my instrument, caught in the beautiful, even spiritual moment of creating music. After all, isn’t life’s journey just one eternal moment? I am at my best during those times when I’m lost from myself—and my instrument truly becomes a part of me.
Inevitably, the free spirit of the artist, lost in the eternal moment of creation, will lead to the philosophical question from one’s mother: “Adrian, what about your future?” Geez, Mum*, give it a rest. My future? I’ve got two $50 gigs next week, and I’ve found a good reed. The future is looking fine. I know she only wants the best for me, but she’s the one that bought me a bloody sax in the first place. If she’d bought me a calculator instead, by now I’d probably have a retirement portfolio and a boat.
Perhaps you, the reader, may also ask: “But seriously, don’t you worry about the future?” Let me answer your question with a question—will you people quit your nagg
