Mastery Isn’t Enough: Learning to Really Say Something
The first time I was asked to improvise, I froze. I had been playing saxophone for a little while, but the idea of creating something on the spot felt impossible. My teacher, however, didn’t give me a choice. After some hesitation, I gave in, played something—anything—and to my surprise, it worked. More than that, it felt good. That moment planted a seed. What once seemed impossible became the foundation of everything I do.
For years after that, improvisation became something to master, a skill to sharpen through competition and discipline. I pushed myself to play faster, be more creative, and measure up to the legends I studied—Charlie Parker, Cannonball Adderley, Jackie McLean. I learned every pattern, every harmonic possibility, and spent hours working out ways to elevate my playing. It was exciting, and for a while, the chase for technical excellence fueled me. But after gaining a certain degree of technical understanding—both of my instrument and of music as a whole—I realized that true expression wasn’t just about playing the right notes. There was something deeper, something beyond mechanics, that made a solo feel alive.
That shift in perspective changed everything. Improvisation stopped being about proving myself and started being about expression. I realized that the most compelling solos weren’t the ones packed with technical fireworks but the ones that told a story. It wasn’t just about filling space with sound—it was about leaving room for breath, for silence, for emotion. The best moments weren’t the ones I forced but the ones I allowed to unfold naturally. The more I leaned into that mindset, the more my playing resonated—not just with the audience but with me.
That lesson stays with me every time I pick up my horn. No matter how much I prepare, how much I practice, the real magic happens when I let go and respond to what’s happening in the moment. Improvisation continues to challenge me, not because I don’t know what to play, but because I’m always learning how to say something real. And that’s a pursuit that never ends.
The Takeaway:
Technical skill is a foundation, but true artistry comes from what you choose to express.
Letting go of the need to prove something leads to deeper, more meaningful creative expression.
Mastery isn’t just about playing faster or more complex—it’s about making music that speaks.
