Late Starter Musician: Neil Jacobs

Wednesday, 01 April 2009 05:34

Interviews

Fearless 

By Jasmine Reese

Perhaps the phrase “letting go” is an understatement in Neil Jacobs’ case.

The renowned self-taught and gifted 12-string guitarist has graced the world with his music in some of the darkest corners and hours of human society. Jacobs’ attained fearlessness shines on the stage with a dazzling technique he can literally call his own.

Jacobs frequents upstate New York where he taught for a year at Alfred University in Alfred, N.Y.  That is where I met him. I remember hearing laughter, Jacobs being known for telling his audience about his travels in a witty way.  I was peeking through the recital hall’s doors.  It was a faculty recital, so I was not allowed in, but the reporter in me (hopefully not future paparazzi) walked in. No one noticed because like me, they were captivated.  How could one man and his guitar sound like a whole orchestra? I heard every note—a well-executed performance and a perfect example of a performer losing himself in the music.

You have had quite an eventful and innovative music career.  I am amazed because you’re self-taught, correct?  When did you start learning guitar?  What inspired you?

Neil:  I suppose that I was always drawn to strings as a youth. Which was surprising given there were no musicians in my family as far back as anyone could recall. When I was very young, I fashioned a make shift stringed instrument out of rubber bands and a shoebox. I was fascinated with the sound. An excellent Russian teacher, Lawrence Kozak, encouraged me to take up guitar. I did take lessons at his (music) studio for about a year on the basics. I quickly exhausted the supply of Mel Bay lesson books, and that proved to be the extent of my formal teaching.

Why did you stop lessons after only a year?

Neil: After a year (my teacher) stated that that was all he could teach me. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of me....

(Laughs) At what age did you start to perform professionally?

Neil: I began to perform professionally my freshman year at Ohio University. I joined up with a singer/songwriter from New York and played (in) coffeehouses and (did) small concerts. (The singer/songwriter) landed a modest recording contract in New York, and soon after I quit school, I joined him (in) New York to perform. My first experience in the musical turned into a disaster when he quit music to become a chemical salesman, and I ended up working in a sweatshop to survive in the city. Ironically, the only job I could find to survive in New York was the job of paper cutter in a bindery, where I operated a massive paper-slicing machine eight hours a day for a year. My good fortune was due to the previous operator cutting off both his thumbs....

A year later, I got a grant to return to school.


Whoah! Back up, back up.  So, you got the job as paper cutter because another man sliced off his fingers?  As a guitarist, you must have been scared.

Neil: I lived in abject fear every day of losing my concentration and maiming myself. The machine was quite the imposing spectacle. My job was to maneuver heavy stacks of paper in to position as a massive 2000-pound pressure guard bar crushed the stacks of paper into place.  A split-second later, a four-foot long razor sharp cutting blade sliced the (paper) like butter.

You started formal private lessons at age 10.  What level would you say you had achieved before taking lessons?  Did you develop bad habits?

Neil: I had never played a note on a guitar before my first lesson. (Thereafter), I suppose I developed quite a few "bad habits," which I now refer to as my "unique style."

After leaving formal lessons, what did you do?  What were your practice habits?  

Neil: For the next few years and through high school, I kept my music private, exclusively practicing behind a locked door. I was not a good imitator and was more motivated to create. Besides, during that period of time, it seemed the guitarist with the largest amp played lead guitar; the second largest amp played rhythm guitar, and the least proficient played bass. The acoustic guitarist practiced in his room....

After working in the sweatshop, you returned to Ohio University. What genre of music did you begin to focus on?

Neil: I really caught a break getting out of New York, but I had gotten out of time with my generation. I suppose that I never got back in rhythm with everybody my age. I suppose this caused me to be a bit isolated from the young students, but also afforded me time to create. I began to form my own style of playing 12-string. I generally did not try to emulate other great players or even listen to them. I just played until my fingers blistered, awaiting inspiration. Now, I do not have qualms about one emulating other great musicians, for there are so many amazing players and styles to choose from. It just wasn't natural for me, and as I stated previously, I was not good at mimicking.

After I had a style that intrigued me, I began to compose pieces that might have been considered jazz, for lack of a better name—which has been a reoccurring theme for me. In order to get work, one must have a genre. I have inhabited a bevy of genres over the years including jazz, fusion, gypsy, folk, new age, world, finger-style, etc….

I formed the " jazz" trio, Cold Fish, with the unlikely instrumentation of 12-string guitar, tenor sax, electric bass, and later adding a pianist. I was determined to form a group that not only had tight arrangements, but also improvised as a whole, or what I referred haughtily to as "thematic improv."

Well, somehow we survived and got the opportunity to open for a host of amazing and inspirational performers of those years including Spyro Gyra, Herbie Mann, Janis Ian, Jeff Lorber, Alan Holdsworth, Weather Report and the Brazilian percussion master, Airto.

This not only served as a great opportunity to get over my stage fright at working in front of large audiences, but it also taught me valuable lessons regarding what it took to be a professional musician

All that must have paid well.

Neil: Not really. Once, the local union representative pulled us off the stage at a Spyro Gyra concert in Cincinnati for playing for too little money. Ironically, we had to pay him a fine to continue the performance.

That’s crazy—tough world. In reference to what you said earlier, it's interesting that you spent a lot of time in your room practicing. Was your stage fright quite bad because of this when you started performing live? Besides performing a lot, what other techniques did you have to employ to overcome your nerves?

Neil: I was quite shy to begin with, and adopting the reclusive lifestyle of a closet musician did not serve to improve my social skills, let alone my stage presence. Moreover, I tended to begin each concert solo and added instruments as the concert continued. To overcome my fear, I adopted the unconventional technique of finding a space to be alone, and then working myself into a torturously angry state, recounting any of life's injustice perpetrated on me, both real and imagined, and then storming on the stage in a near fearless, altered state. No one wanted to be near me before a performance…

Later, I took up cliff diving in Jamaica. I found that to be quite similar to the anxiety one experiences when initially walking out onto the stage. Now, for the most part, I rarely have stage fright.

I've heard you mention that your style is greatly influenced by your travels.  When did you first travel out of the country and to where?  What did you experience?

Neil: In short, in 1985, I was asked to work on a sound track for a documentary film being made by Academy Award winning director, Will Roberts, about the life of expatriated American, now Eastern Bloc superstar, Dean Reed—also known as the Red Elvis. This project eventually led to an invitation to the Moscow Film Festival, in 1985. I have to (justify) this by stating that I certainly was apolitical at the time and certainly naive as to the ramifications of traveling to the pre-McDonald's "Evil Empire" at that point in history. I suppose this set the stage for many journeys abroad to many dubious locations, simply by saying "yes" to any invitation, however bizarre.

This would not be my last "momma told me not to come" moment. Suddenly, I was cast into a strange new world. A normal day might include breakfast with the Hollywood Ten, introducing a film about American jazz great, Ornette Coleman, at the Moscow Film Festival, followed by dinner at the Kremlin with famous movie directors. One night, I was invited to perform at the Hotel Rossia's press bar, which I fondly remember as the "Spy vs Spy" bar. The son of the law of the head of the Soviet Composers Union asks me if I would play for him at his private residence. I performed for him, and he invited me to stay in the Soviet Union for the summer.  Later, I was magically installed on the United States Cultural Delegation to the World Youth Festival by the Russians.

During this time, I witnessed the changing of the guard with Gorbachev—parties until dawn on Red Square—and I attended Lenin Stadium for the opening ceremony with Gorbachev in attendance.  Musically, I was exposed to the folk music of Russia, the Balshoi, and a host of talented performers. It was truly an eye-opening experience.

What wonderful and eye-opening experiences! Going back, whom did you study with in college?

Neil: I didn't really study music in college. Except for briefly studying the troubadour harp to develop hand strength & dexterity.  I thought I could apply it to guitar.

Other than my initial year of basic lessons, and a grant I received years later to study with the Gypsies of Spain, I am self-taught. I went to college with an idealistic notion to get an education and worked to pay my own way through. I began as a math major, and then branched into psychology, philosophy and literature.

I comically referred to it as "academic bingo," but I forgot to declare a major. Years later, I was forced to return for an extra year in order to graduate with a BS in Telecommunications and Music, based mostly on life experience.

Being an "academic bingo" gave you a great foundation for seeing the world in many ways, hence, your "bizarre" and brave excursions.

Neil: Perhaps more Forest Gump-like than actually brave...

Amidst all the exciting travels you’ve had, did you have a favorite?

The artistic directors for the Balkan Dance and Music ensemble, "Zivili" saw me playing at a club and invited me to compose "Gypsy-inspired" compositions for their yearly concert at the Palace Theater in Columbus, (Ohio). Although I had not yet had any knowledge of gypsy music, I agreed and composed a twelve-minute piece for their performances. It was a success; I decided to join their touring group and learn the instruments of the Balkans. This led to many fascinating touring experiences. Perhaps the most interesting, and dangerous, occurred when we (were) invited to perform for the refugee camps and orphanages throughout the Balkans.
We traveled by bus throughout Hungary, Slovenia, Croatia and Bosnia from camp to camp entertaining the displaced and music hungry refugees.

The final concert was in bombed out Central Sarajevo, which was still a dangerous environment, with land mines, potential snipers and a general air of uncertainty. Miraculously, the people of Sarajevo assembled a massive stage and sound system out of the rubble, and we performed an emotional and unforgettable concert.  One remark from a Bosnian refugee stays with me even today—music is better than food.

Gosh, you’ve learned so many styles of playing.

Neil: I suppose, technically, I haven't learned styles as much as I have adapted other types of music to my own style of playing.

When I studied in Spain, I did not really learn flamenco, but absorbed some of the feeling and rhythms into my own techniques. As mentioned in the previous question, when I learned the music of the Balkans, I did so on their particular folk instruments—tambura, bisernica, bugarija, sargija, brac, etc.  I then translated much of this to knowledge to the 12-string guitar, employing some of the techniques such as tremolo-ing and odd meter rhythms.

 Also, after being exposed to Eastern European folk music, I was so fascinated that when the (Berlin) Wall came down, I traveled throughout Eastern Europe on the trains with a backpack and two 12-strings, performing and seeking out the folk and gypsy music of each country. During this time, I developed a great respect also for the music of the much-maligned Roma, gypsy, whose contributions apparently formed the cornerstone for much of the music I encountered.


So, what is your practice regimen like?  You must have paid great attention to detail because technique-wise, you are amazing. Which is also so phenomenal when you take into account what you’ve said earlier--you are not good at imitating.

Neil: You are very kind. I generally do not "practice" except when I am working on a new piece. And at that, I do work on techniques, but most of my practicing took place years ago when I practiced until my fingers blistered. For the most part when I play a piece in concert, the last time I played it was the previous concert. I can only trust that it will be there for me. I like to think that if I get out of the way, the music will play itself.

Tell me about your most recent CD release.  Why did you choose to play on five different 12-String-Guitars?

Neil: Each guitar has a unique type of sound. I use different types of strings and tunings on each, and generally use the guitar that I originally wrote the piece on. The CD spans about 20 years of material, so I had to go back and string up a few of my old guitars.

Music is a part of you.  Which is the only explanation I can come up with for someone who had no formal musical training but still progressed to a great level.  In reality, however, everyone is capable of making music.  They just need to let go of fears and inhibitions, as you have done in clearly every walk of life.  Am I on the right track?  It seems that letting go is something you've done in your musical career. Bravery, or a Forest Gump-like attitude, has led you to where you are today.  Do you agree?

I think I am very fortunate to have a clear pull toward a certain vocation. Unfortunately, not everyone has that level of certainty. I suppose that if one is fortunate enough to find their passion with certainty, then one is compelled to follow it, or otherwise face the nagging question—what if? I realize that not everyone has the opportunity to follow (his or her) heart, so I also do feel quite fortunate. But since I had the opportunity and the certainty, I feel that I had a responsibility to follow my intuition.  I was also fortunate to have some surprising successes and amazing serendipitous experiences that fueled my confidence early on. This carried me through some of the inevitable darker times of self-doubt.

I guess to focus directly on your question—I think it is important to learn how to trust your own intuitions. There is a quote I refer to often. It goes something like this, "If you are to make mistakes in life, let them be your own".

What are you currently working on?

I have a few projects scheduled this year. I hope I can complete some of or most of them.
The CD projects I am considering recording are:

"Music of the Balkans," featuring the music of the Balkans adapted to the 12-string guitar
"The Clock Struck Twelve," a Halloween inspired CD
"American Gypsy II" - (Now that American Gypsy's violinist has returned from his stint on Madonna's world tour), I hope to do a follow up to our debut CD.

I will continue touring solo and promoting the latest release, as well as working with a new Celtic/World music ensemble for a few concerts.

I am also working on a multimedia production lecture/demo for schools and universities chronicling the history and music of the gypsies with emphasis on the Balkans music and instrumentation.

Okay, so we had a few questions from the readers.  One asks—have you ever messed up during a performance?  How did you handle it?

I have bungled so many times in so many ways—I could go on and on. I am assuming you mean the actual performance, not mistakes interacting with the audience, equipment failures, or costume malfunctions. Generally speaking, if I handled it well, I just pressed on and kept my composure. I tried to keep in mind that the audience generally wants you to succeed. They want a good performance.
If they sense fear, they will feel sorry for you, but lose interest. It is good to remember that there will be more opportunities to improve as time goes on.

Another reader—if someone wants to learn on his or her own, what advice would you give? How did you do it?

Well, you would probably not benefit by following my model. There was no Internet in my day, and I taught myself. To my knowledge, I invented all my techniques.

I suggest that you pay for at least some primary lessons with a reputable instructor.
It may also be of value to learn how to read music and follow chord charts before moving to tabs.

Beyond that, the Internet is a great resource.  With tabs and instructional DVDs. Everything is available.

See where it takes you.

A teenager in a California asks you, what do you think is needed to become a successful professional musician, besides talent, of course?

I think you must first be sure that music is your passion, and not a passing whim.
One can have music in (his or her) life, yet, not rely on it to be their life or source of income. The music business is incredibly difficult and competitive. In order to become a professional musician, you will have to be willing to sacrifice time and monetary security and work very hard. You will have to profoundly love what you do because the chances of earning significant monetary rewards are slim.
You will often be tested ethically, for the competition is extreme, and often times unethical.

I spent a year in Los Angeles once trying to break into the music scene there.
I landed interviews with major agents and record company executives. Two quotes stick in my mind, "talent ranks about seventh in the list of attributes required for the likelihood of success in the music business" and "we would like to sign you, but could you lose a little depth."

Given all this, if you are compelled by your love for music, you must then work exceptionally hard, be tenacious, and your reward will be your music. Whatever else results is extra.

In my case, music chose me, much to my mother's chagrin; I did not choose music.