Several years ago, I watched a College Humor parody that Weird Al Yankovic did of the movie Whiplash to promote his Mandatory World Tour. In the parody, Al makes it so that it actually looks like he is starring in the movie, and that Terence Fletcher is his instructor. Except that Al is playing the accordion, and not the drums like the main character in the movie. It’s a funny parody because Fletcher is this huge perfectionist who keeps pointing out Al’s mistakes, and at first Al is fine with it because he tells Fletcher at the beginning that he wants to be perfect, but he keeps playing the piece at the tempo he wants, not at the tempo Fletcher wants him to play at. The sketch was hilarious, and I saw it years before I finally watched the movie, Whiplash. I’m glad I watched the parody first, though, because watching the actual movie was a very intense experience that made me think of my own struggles with perfectionism and ambition as a musician, and remembering those experiences isn’t always fun because I look back at the kind of person I was back then, and I was super self-critical and hard on myself about everything (I’m still working on taming my inner critic, but I’ve gotten better at recognizing when I’m talking negatively about myself) and I don’t want to be overly critical of myself anymore.
If you haven’t seen Whiplash, it takes place at a fictional music conservatory in New York City, where an ambitious but shy young jazz drummer named Andrew Neiman enters his freshman year. The movie opens with him practicing for hours in a practice room, and Terence Fletcher, who runs a world-class jazz ensemble, comes in and sees Andrew’s potential. Andrew is starstruck to have met Fletcher because of his reputation, and he expresses interest in wanting to join Fletcher’s ensemble. Andrew starts off in an ensemble where he is not known for being the best player, but then Fletcher visits the class, and everyone is super intimidated by him. Fletcher ends up recruiting Andrew for his jazz ensemble because he can tell that Andrew wants it so badly, and Andrew is so elated to join the group. However, he is in for a really harsh and rude awakening when he realizes that Fletcher is not there to stroke Neiman’s ego or make him feel good about himself. He is there to tear Neiman down until Neiman has a breakdown. Fletcher hears someone playing an out of tune note during rehearsal, and he blames it on one of the horn players. When the kid starts crying, Fletcher shouts at him. Over the course of the movie, Fletcher screams at his students, throws chairs at them, calls them nasty names, humiliates individual students in front of the class and pits the drummers against each other. Andrew ends up taking things to extremes, such as breaking up with his girlfriend, Nicole, so he can pursue his career as a successful jazz drummer. At first, Nicole and Andrew are hitting it off, and Nicole likes Andrew because he seems nice, but then Andrew breaks up with her later on in the movie because he thinks that their relationship is going to hinder him from going after his music dreams. Nicole is deeply hurt and later in the film, when Andrew calls to invite her to a performance of his, she tells him that she would need to ask her boyfriend first. Andrew is hurt because he thought that Nicole would easily forgive him and leave the breakup in the past, but he realizes that Nicole moved on and ended up with someone else.
There is one scene in the movie where Andrew is sitting at the dinner table with his family, and his parents are excitedly talking about his brothers’ achievements in sports and extracurricular activities, but when Andrew tells them excitedly that he got into Terence Fletcher’s jazz ensemble, they kind of go “So what?” or “Who cares?” Andrew tells them that it’s the top jazz ensemble in the nation, and his family asks him where that is going to lead him in the future. Andrew tells them about all these famous musicians who worked really hard at their music to be successful and tells his family he wants to be this huge success as a musician, but the family still doesn’t care about his accomplishments, and Andrew takes this personally and starts to put down his brothers’ achievements, thinking he is better than them because he got into Fletcher’s orchestra. Honestly, this movie resonated with me because I remember in 2016, when I auditioned for this professional orchestra in my hometown, auditioning for this one orchestra became my sole focus, and anything else that didn’t have to do with getting into a professional symphony orchestra took a backseat. I practiced and shredded at my cello for hours upon hours weeks before the audition, cramping my muscles and berating myself over and over for missing notes and not being able to play the piece perfectly. Looking back, I would have probably had a lot more compassion for myself because Don Juan by Richard Strauss, which is a common audition excerpt for symphony orchestra auditions, is a very challenging piece to play and it requires you to play all these notes very fast. It is a beautiful piece to listen to, but it requires a lot of practice to master, and also, if 30-year-old me were talking to 22-year-old me, she would have told her to prepare well in advance instead of trying to cram in hours of practice mere weeks before the audition. 30-year-old me now looks back and while I am grateful for the intensive musical training I underwent and all the hours I have practiced, now when I play my instrument, I try to think long-term about my goals rather than only focusing on getting one audition perfectly, because I realize now how unrealistic it is to expect myself to win an audition perfectly on the first try. Of course, maybe people saw the movie differently, and saw Andrew’s perfectionism as healthy and inspiring, but as someone who went through berating myself and putting myself down, I realized looking back at how I thought about success in my 20s wasn’t very realistic or healthy. I know people say that there is healthy perfectionism and maladaptive perfectionism, but I think it’s best to say that there is a difference between healthy striving and perfectionism. Because everyone is going to have their own different version of what “perfect” is, and at the end of the day, it just wasn’t healthy for me to continue pushing myself the way that I was. I still love music and love to play my instrument, but I also have learned to have a life outside of just professional orchestra auditions. I remember when I started working after college at Starbucks, and all I could think about was, “Why am I not playing at Carnegie Hall in New York City right now?” I really wanted to move to New York City to pursue my dream of playing a Carnegie Hall, but back then when I was in my early 20s, I had a very narrow, two-dimensional perspective on success that was just focused on satisfying my own ego. Even though I didn’t win the audition for section cellist, I got on the list of substitute players. I felt kind of crushed, but I asked my orchestra director from college about it, and he encouraged me to not get discouraged about it, which I appreciate looking back because I really wanted to be in that orchestra and beat myself up about it, and I remember while working at Starbucks, I was so impatient to get an opportunity to sub for one of the cellists and I didn’t get any opportunities to sub that year, and I felt rather disappointed. I think in retrospect, dealing with that disappointment and not being able to get what I wanted was probably the best outcome, because I realized that I tied so much of my self-worth and greatness to getting into that symphony orchestra, and I noticed that when I auditioned for other orchestras, I got rejected and would feel so crushed about it. Of course, it’s perfectly normal and healthy to feel disappointment when you don’t ace a test or win a position in an orchestra, but it’s about how you cope with that disappointment. Are you going to throw in the towel and say, fuck it, I am a terrible musician, and I’m not cut out for this career? Or are you going to say, Hey, this really stinks, but it’s not the end of the world and I still know my worth isn’t impacted by whether or not I got into the orchestra.
I think that is why I really loved watching the movie Soul, which I saw a few years ago. If you haven’t seen Soul, it’s about a middle school music teacher named Joe Gardner, who wants to get his big break as a famous jazz musician. He isn’t really happy with his teaching job, or his life in general. He wants to become something great, not lead an ordinary life. However, everything changes when he falls down a manhole while walking down the street, and he falls into a coma. The movie shows how he learns to appreciate his life and not take it for granted after he comes out of his coma, and through his journey as a soul, he realizes the value of his own life and how his worth isn’t based only on how good of a musician he is. Early in the film, Joe wants to impress this legendary saxophonist named Dorothea Williams (played by the beautiful Angela Bassett), but she doesn’t really care about boosting his ego. In fact, she scoffs when he tells her he is a part-time music teacher at a middle school because she doesn’t think that’s a reputable career, so she assumes that he doesn’t have what it takes to be in her jazz band. However, he is so hell-bent on impressing her and while he is performing in the jazz quartet one evening with her, he is dazzling the audience, and Dorothea lets him play quite a few solos. However, after the show is over, even though he got all this applause and recognition, Joe asks her what happens after they played what he thought was his ultimate debut as a jazz musician. Dorothea gives him a huge reality check, though, and tells him that they come back to the club and do the same thing over and over again, play for the same audience every night. Joe realizes that he was so focused on getting his one “big break” as a jazz musician that he ignored so much of what was going on in his daily life. He often took the people and little things in his life for granted, all because he wanted this glamorous career and thought that playing in Dorothea’s quartet was his one shot at being a great musician, but he reflects on what he missed out on in his daily life by focusing only on getting into this lady’s jazz quartet. Honestly, that’s why I really resonated with this movie, because through practicing Nichiren Buddhism, I have learned to appreciate and value my life, whether I play at Carnegie Hall or not. Early on when I was playing music, I was just playing because I loved the music. I wasn’t thinking about conservatory or anything. But as I got older, my teachers started to become more demanding and because I had such a big ego, I would chafe every time my orchestra teacher in senior high school pointed out my mistakes in class. I think all of these music instructors were trying to show me how overly critical I was of myself when I would make mistakes and how arrogant I was at times. I was very fortunate to be able to continue my cello lessons after graduating from college, and I was able to find a wonderful cello instructor and start lessons with him in December of 2016. However, I came into the cello lessons with a sort of cockiness, and I thought, I’ve become an advanced player, so all this guy needs to do is make me a great orchestra musician. I want him to make me the best cellist in the world. He is going to help me make it big as a musician. However, looking back, taking those lessons with him helped me do an incredible amount of human revolution, or inner transformation, because I really did think I was hot shit at the time because I had achieved what I thought was an enviable level of musicianship, but whenever he pointed out my mistakes or got frustrated with me over me repeating these mistakes, it bruised my ego and I would get defensive with him and frustrated with him. As I chanted Nam-myoho-renge-kyo and participated in my SGI Buddhist activities, though, I started to really see how arrogant I was becoming and realized that I didn’t need to be arrogant in order to be a great musician. We’re encouraged to chant about our goals and dreams in the Buddhist community I am a part of, and it’s cool because as you continue to practice Buddhism, other parts of your life open up and you begin to see the opportunity in challenging circumstances to create meaning and value. I was so focused on becoming a great musician and playing at Carnegie Hall, and honestly at the time, I thought that Carnegie Hall was the only time I could prove to people that I had “made it” as a classical musician. But I also realized through chanting that I have other skills and interests that I love and enjoy, such as writing and watching movies. I have learned that having a life outside of music is really important, because it helps you gain perspective and realize that the entire planet Earth doesn’t revolve around your success and your ego. I would often feel ashamed to tell people in classical music circles that I had a day job at Starbucks (and later on, a law firm) but after gaining more confidence in myself, I know now that I needed those jobs to gain basic work experience. I remember going to a classical music symposium that the Dallas Symphony Orchestra had for women and people of color who worked in the classical music field, and we had a concert one night where I got to meet the musicians after the concert. I got to talk with one of the cellists in the orchestra, and I thought that she was going to give me this super glamorous insider advice about how to win an orchestra audition and was going to tell me how wonderful being a member of the orchestra was. While she said some great things about working in the orchestra, she said that you also have to deal with a variety of personalities and attend frequent rehearsals. She also encouraged me to not focus only on winning the audition, too, and gave me a realistic perspective on having an orchestra career and auditioning. After we talked, it felt like I been brought down to Earth. Also, talking with my cello teachers helped me because they had been in the professional field for years and had played with orchestras and as soloists, so they were able to give me a realistic picture of what life as a professional musician is really like. I was in my early 20s when I listened to their experiences, and frankly, I wanted them to make a career in a symphony orchestra seem glamorous and effortless. But it’s not like that. Reading the book Reaching Beyond with Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock and Daisaku Ikeda also gave me a more hopeful outlook on being a musician. They said that one’s behavior offstage is just as important as their behavior onstage, so when Wayne was alive, he would treat people with respect even though he was this renowned musician. His Buddhist practice helped him also tap into these endless reserves of creativity and he also used his music to inspire and encourage others, not just for his own personal glory. Herbie Hancock is also the same way. He, too, is a renowned legend in the jazz world, but he always goes back to his Buddhist practice and talks about how it not only helped him tap into those reserves of creativity, but it also helped him value and respect the dignity of all people regardless of their social standing or how much money they made. When I first read the book, I didn’t know if it would apply to me, since I’m trained in classical music and not jazz. But it applied to me very much, because reading the book helped me understand that being a musician is so much more than playing your instrument and it’s definitely not about dazzling people or becoming famous. Music is an expression of people’s humanity, and music has the potential to give people hope and possibility when it doesn’t seem like there is any. I was so focused on stroking my own ego while pursuing this music career, but reading this book encouraged me to go back and chant about my fundamental purpose in life, not just as a musician. Because even if I got my big break at Carnegie Hall, that by itself wouldn’t make me a better (or happier) person. I would still have to show up and go to work like everyone else, and I would have still had to deal with disappointment and failure just like a lot of musicians have to deal with in their careers. But I now play music because I love it and because I want to share it with others.