How do you get to Carnegie Hall?

I played at Carnegie Hall in Weill Recital Hall for the first time last month. It was certainly one of the most memorable performances I have ever given, and also maybe the most fun I have ever had on stage. I have so many thoughts on the long and winding road that lead to that performance that I think are relevant to all of us that I wanted to write about, but as I sat down to write it all came out looking like a jumble of thoughts about so many things - being a music student, deciding on a career in the arts, and my current work life as a solidly B-List musician.

I had to take a step back and decide why I wanted to write about it. I don’t want to write about this experience to brag about it. This is not a look-at-me exploration of getting to Carnegie Hall, although I do feel proud to have had the chance to perform there. What I want to talk about is how you really get to Carnegie Hall. What I know is that there are many ways, and most of them have nothing to do with practice. I realized I want to write about it as an avenue to expose all the myths that I believed wholeheartedly as a young musician, and that so many of us still subconsciously allow to guide and mold us.

Myth #1: practice = fame

Of course a certain level of skill is required to earn or solicit a performance in a famous venue. But you can absolutely garner the use of a famous hall my many means including money, virtuosity, by winning competitions, or through management and artist representation. Most of the time it’s not just about skill, it’s about resources. There’s nothing wrong with that - it’s true for all things in music - it’s just not what we’re taught, shown, or fed as young musicians.

The famous adage “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?” implies (or rather blatantly tells us) that with enough practice, your Carnegie Hall-level fame will magically fall into place. This myth doesn’t just exist in that famous saying, it’s rampant in all of classical music. Practice enough and you’ll win auditions. Practice enough and everyone will admire you. Practice enough and success will hunt you down and fall into your lap.

Perhaps this particular myth exists simply to extol the value of practice, and not actually to give us insight into reaching these venues and levels. Of course we need to put in the work. It seems so obvious once you start observing what’s happening around you. Endless hours of solitary practice, rehearsals, and lessons. But those thousands of hours are only a fraction of the story. The rest is tenacity, relentlessness, determination, connections, good timing, and a whole lot of good luck.

It becomes quite clear as we gain skill that our practice will never be done. It’s up to us to figure out how to use it, and where to spend it. Practice equals skill and perspective, not fame.

Myth #2: someone or something has to seek you out

Whether it’s spoken or not, I think that many young musicians hold a belief that they will be discovered in some way. When I was a student it felt like a summer course, advanced degree audition, competition, or masterclass might lead a lucky person to greater levels of recognition. That you could burst onto the scene given the right opportunity.

For today’s students, there might be the sense that you’ll do this via an online platform. You’ll post a video that goes viral, grow a following, have sponsors or become a brand ambassador.

This does happen to a lucky few. Pointing back to Myth #1, skill and good fortune go a long way together.

For most of us though, this moment of bursting into everyone’s field of vision never happens. It may even happen less now that everyone is so visible, the noise of everyone’s daily activities and accomplishments so great.

As a student who entered music school well behind the curve with mostly potential and tenacity to show for myself, I never really expected any moments of sudden recognition. But that meant that everything that did go well carried with it a reason it had. I learned to identify what I was doing that was working. I learned to grow out of my timidity and ask for lessons from teachers I admired, play in masterclasses where I felt I might not belong, and take and value the opportunities that were available.

For the vast majority of us, our livelihood depends on not waiting for anyone to find us. Contrary to the way we learn to play for teacher, committee, or peer approval, our careers are built on the willingness to put ourselves out there, ask for or audition for opportunities, take usefully constructive criticisms to heart (ignoring the not-so-useful criticism), and the ability to never stop learning.

In the case of my own Weill Recital Hall performance, no one sought me out. Carnegie Hall was not knocking down my door looking for another flutist. A good friend knew about a competition and asked if I wanted to enter together. The opportunity arose from a genuine connection with another musician and our willingness to open ourselves up to critique.

Myth #3: you have to do the big things when you’re young

Young is a subjective term. There is a quote from the famous cellist Pablo Casals that I think of often. Asked why he was still practicing for hours a day when he was in his 80s and 90s, Casals said, “because I think I’m making progress.”

Casals was not saying that he was young, but he was pointing beautifully to the fact that we never stop changing, learning, or developing our understanding of music or the world.

A small handful of us are gifted, for whatever reasons, enormous talent at a young age. An ability to conceive of and execute incredible music. Many of us walk a long, uphill, never-ending road toward that type of skill and understanding.

Does it mean less if we achieve our highest level of creativity and music making when we are older? Or maybe, does it mean something more, or at the very least something different if we reach that level alongside and through life milestones, times where it is challenging to retain our commitment to the art, seasons where the world would have us believe we are not cut out for all this?

One could argue that the meaning is present, no matter the timeline. That the meaning is enhanced by the timeline. Anyone who has invested in their creativity knows that the value lies in the process. It’s only when we make it our work that we start to put rules on it: win a competition in your 20s, win an orchestra job by 30, become a tenured professor as soon as possible.

We don’t talk enough about the fact that these opportunities are for all of us. It took me three decades of playing the flute to get to Carnegie Hall, but that certainly didn’t make the experience any less meaningful or special.

Myth #4: you have to be a household name

In the era of flutists like Jean Pierre Rampal and James Galway it might have been easy to believe this. The world moved slower. In some respects it took a lot more correspondence (and a lot more good luck) to grow a reaching career in that era. But we live in a modern age. By sharing very minimal tidbits of my musical life and career online I have met musicians from around the globe, experienced a kinship of work and art. By using the resources available to me (the internet, a website, some email etiquette and bravery) I have also managed to build a pretty satisfying musical life.

I suppose this myth’s power over you depends on the kind of heights you hope your musical career might reach. Regardless, being known by many, for whatever reason, is much easier now than it used to be. At the same time, it’s easier to be lost in the masses or known because we are both admired and disliked. The internet is not always a kind place.

This myth goes directly against what you know to be fact if you have stuck with this music thing for a while: there is room for all of us.

It’s true that there are only so many orchestra and tenure jobs. (And there are even less now than there used to be.) It’s false that we have too many good teachers, freelancers, daring and creative musicians. There is a pocket of this creative world for all of us who desire it.

If I tie this back to my Carnegie Hall experience, I am a freelancing adjunct professor, business owner, and wellness instructor. Did the competition I entered care about any of that? No. The quality of the recording had to speak for itself. As creatives, and especially as musicians, we put too much weight on the labels of success that are shown to us. I am still guilty of this.

Will it be easy to find our individual creative niche? Absolutely not. (Re-enter tenacity, relentlessness, skill, and a lot of good luck.) Is it true we can all find a place? Speaking to you squarely from this place on The B-List, absolutely.

Myth #5: any performance opportunity of magnitude or value must be won

This myth is not entirely untrue. Jobs, including those that are less-than-fantastic and otherwise B-or even C-List, are in fact awarded to only one candidate. The highest caliber competitions are judged ruthlessly, the winners awarded rightfully (most of the time).

However. Not all worthwhile things are based on these judging systems. It is within our realm and rights as musicians artists to grit our teeth, brace our core, and muscle our way into incredible opportunities.

I love freelancing for this reason. One opportunity will grow another, presuming you commit fully to the task at hand. You might be out of your depth, but learn to run with the wolves and pretty soon you’re on to the next pack. We grow this way, but we also win opportunities this way.

Just because something is not labeled, identifiable, or well known as a competition doesn’t mean it can’t become a career win.

I am not suggesting that we make every chance we get into a make-or-break competition in our minds. Opportunities come from many places, though, and it’s really up to us to decide what has magnitude and meaning in our creative lives.

And the biggest myth?

Myth #6: you’re not allowed to feel satisfied unless you achieve the highest levels of musicianship and brightest levels of stardom

We become musicians out of love. It might be a love of the music itself or a specific instrument, a love of discovery, the love of a challenge, or a love of creating. We are (at least usually) not young musicians dreaming of vast stardom and virtuosity at only the highest levels. Those dreams happen later, after achievement muddies all the creative waters.

Every musical or creative endeavor has something to teach us. Is worthy of the effort. Is meaningful in its own right.

Don’t wait for someone to seek you out. The world is noisy, but it’s also vast in the best way. Any moment of arrival is fleeting but the time it takes to get there is your creative life. If you’ve been waiting for one of these myths, this is your sign. Don’t wait. Be brave, make music, enjoy.