Hartwick college

Your path to Hartwick hasn't exactly been a straight line. How did your gigs get you ready for Hartwick?
As a special education teacher, I brought music into the curriculum. I turned off the florescent lights, brought in lamps, and put on Glenn Gould Plays Bach. It really chilled out the hum of the whole room. It helped change the environment so it was more focused, more relaxed.

When I conducted the national tour of Camelot, I had to teach a new orchestra the whole show every week. We had one five-hour rehearsal with a show every Tuesday, so my approach to rehearsals had to be extremely focused and positive.

Both of those experiences prepared me for Hartwick. When I'm teaching in the music circle, we tidy up the room before we start so students walk into a sharp learning environment. The students know I mean business when I walk into a room, but we have a lot of fun doing it.

How do you bridge the gap between learning and doing, between theory and practice?
I get the students paying gigs in town. That might be the most effective thing I do here, giving them experiential learning with a paycheck. This isn't just going out and observing; this is gigging.

I want their art to be more purposeful than mere performance. Every performance we produce has something behind it. I throw in a lot of outside activities for the wind ensemble so they become more of a community instead of just showing up for rehearsal or for a gig. Karaoke parties, trips to Albany and Binghamton ... we are a community.

I maintain an active, positive presence in the department. I'm here all the time; my door's open all the time. The personal practice space, the "fish bowl," is glass-walled, so they can see into it and I'm in there playing for hours every day. I want them to see that I'm still hustling on my instrument in preparation for the next gig. I am extremely charismatic on the podium and I think I'm funny; that helps.

How do you and your students connect?
Our age proximity is a big deal. I think they can relate to me. They seem to be able to talk to me more—not to raise their hand in the classroom to ask a question, but really talk about things. If they feel safe enough to discuss their concerns, either about curriculum or their personal life, they will be more accessible. It becomes a genuine, big brother, uncle-type relationship.

I just came out of the chute from what they're experiencing. I've just had my first round of everything—grad school, teaching, a couple of professional gigs, and now I'm fresh back in academia. I can turn around 180 degrees and say "OK, I've just done this. I know how to get you into this life and business if you have the drive for it." They've got to want it very badly.

I went to a small liberal-arts college in a small town. It focused me terrifically—everybody practiced six or seven hours a day. I'm trying to instill that in the students here. It takes a lot to do that, to get up and practice in the morning.

What captures you? What is your spark?
It's hard to put into words; it's instinctive, intuition. It's the goose bumps you get when you listen to your favorite song or a song that reminds you of a boyfriend or girlfriend of your past, or a parent, or just a time in your life. That is a constant feeling within me with almost anything I conduct. When I'm in the zone, that energy is flowing so hot through me, it's like lava. It moves from the score to me to the ensemble to the audience and back to me and the performers. Id' like to say that I choose pieces that make me feel good, but sometimes I have to pick something I don't know very well. I'm here to learn, also. Part of my research is learning and sharing new music with the students. But almost any piece of music can bring that to me at some point, even if it's just for a second.

What's on your iPod?
I don't own an iPod. That's important. I've never liked concentrated sound on my ears—I won't use headphones. But there are thousands of songs students should experience: Gustav Mahler, Claude Debussy, Thelonious Monk, Lady GaGa, Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Soundheim. It's almost impossible for me to narrow to even five composers in a genre. There are so many, it's unfair.