Q – This year is the 250th Anniversary of Mozart’s birth and you’ve said Mozart got you into jazz. Tell us how.
A - To answer that, let's first go back to 1991, the 200th anniversary of Mozart's death—not exactly an event on any normal teenager’s calendar, certainly not mine! But that changed one Saturday morning while driving my little car to work. I was listening to a radio program called "Morning Mozart," which was broadcasting the composer’s complete works throughout that anniversary year. Only half-listening, I missed the name of the piece that came on—a pity, since that music by Mozart effectively altered the course of my future. I guess some people, like me, are just hardwired to be ignited when certain factors collide. What else could explain a profound shift in a 16-year-old’s interests, all thanks to centuries-old music playing through the crappy speakers of my Chrysler K-Car? Compelled to immerse myself again in that sublime experience the next day, I went directly to the Hamilton Public Library and maxed out my card with as many musical scores and cassette tapes as my stretchy A&P plastic bags could hold before bursting. I still remember my pulse racing as I waited for the 33-Sanitorium bus—I had to get home to the piano!
I hadn't played the piano much since my mother allowed me to stop taking lessons from a psycho piano teacher in my early years. However, the piano had now become my essential tool for exploring Mozart's design methods for musical expression.
Unfortunately, my constant deconstruction of his music in the family living room quickly became a problem for the household. As a result, my mother often resorted to the punishment of forbidding me from playing the piano. During these piano-less periods, I created Mozart mix-tapes and watched the film "Amadeus" a LOT.
I was so enthusiastic about Mozart that I even tried persuading some classmates to get into him. One pinnacle moment was December 5, 1991. Snow falling, I traveled to Toronto to hear the Mozart Requiem. It was my first time sitting in front of a live orchestra and choir. I clearly remember the contrast between the exterior stillness of the audience and my own interior ecstasy exploding from my seat—a special quiet intensity, superimposed by the company of two delightful gals I convinced to join me. A standout moment in my teenage years.
I left that concert hall joyfully kicking through the snow with my two friends, fully aware that I was now in pursuit of a future as a music maker.
My first steps toward that future didn’t involve formal training—probably due to some PTSD from my first psycho piano teacher. Plus, I’m the autodidact type. Instead of lessons, I made my way to Hamilton's Anne Foster's Music Store to buy the largest wad of manuscript paper that could still fit into my high school gym bag. Most lunch hours, I retreated to a cool loft space I discovered above the music room in the old St. Thomas More building on East 5th Street. I started filling those manuscript pages with terrible, pseudo-Mozartian material. Deep down, my inner self-learner knew the music probably didn’t work, but the mere act of mimicking and failing felt both necessary and pleasing. I sensed I was doing something of personal significance, so before leaving that building for good, I hid a 10-cent coin in one of the rafters above the entrance to the loft. I expect it’s still there!
My high school music teacher, Ron Palangio, a jazz guitarist, noticed my unusual interests and eventually said, "Braid, if you like composing, you should play jazz because you can just improvise... that’s like composing on the spot." Until that moment, I hadn’t considered improvisation since my psycho piano teacher lashed my hands with her ruler when I apparently improvised during my lessons. How exciting! Palangio's suggestion was a shortcut into music-making, so, for better (or worse?), I leapt at a music-making career through the first available door: jazz.
Now, to circle back to the original question: how did Mozart lead me to jazz? His work provided a crystal-clear view into perfectly designed music, allowing me to easily extract materials to build upon during the time when I first developed a ferocious appetite for musical creativity. The jazz world, in turn, offered the quickest platform to begin constructing those ideas. For this reason, I would say it was truly Mozart who introduced me to creative music-making, which I associate most with jazz. So, in a way, today—the 250th anniversary of Mozart's birth—feels like a personal anniversary for me as well.
