My Teachers
I was lucky enough to receive mentoring from numerous inspiring teachers who, in addition to helping me progress as a musician and artist, also became role models for my own career as an educator.
When I was 17, my first guitar teacher, Randy Wimer, showed me the basics of both classical and jazz guitar and provided a great example to aspire to musically, but more importantly, he was the first adult I ever met who was cool. Randy had long hair and a beard, an easygoing, hip demeanor, and a biting and sarcastic sense of humor. He even occasionally uttered a swear word—something that was shocking to me at first coming from a “grown up.” Until I met Randy, the idea of being a professional musician seemed like a distant fantasy with no visible means of becoming a reality. To this day, he still is one of the coolest people I know, and I’m proud to call him a friend and colleague.
Then there were my teachers at University of North Texas. As of this writing, Jack Petersen, who taught guitar and improvisation and directed guitar ensemble and “reading bands” (big bands whose main purpose was for students to work on their reading skills), has recently left the planet after a long and successful career as a player and teacher. When I first got to UNT, I was a face in the crowd; there were 80 guitar players who auditioned for coveted places in ensembles. I made it about 2/3 up the list (thanks to Randy’s lessons) but still not high enough to make any ensembles. That first year, I saw Jack as a hard-ass who wouldn’t give me a chance. After I got nervous and blew my jury for the first semester of Jazz Guitar Master Class (basically jazz guitar boot camp), I forfeited my chance to move on in the program and was going to be required to retake the class. I tried to talk Jack into letting me do another jury, but he said, “You were warned!,” which, of course, was the case. The truth was, if I had taken the class as seriously as I should have, I could have passed the jury whether I was nervous or not. I eventually learned my lesson and realized what a valuable experience it was to go through those two semesters of Jazz Guitar Master Class 1 and 2, which I did the next year, earning an A both semesters. In addition to the amazing information he shared and his approach to learning the guitar in a highly organized fashion, I also got to appreciate Jack’s gruff but hilariously funny demeanor. He exhibited genuine care for his students. He was impressed with my senior recital and took me to lunch afterward to talk to me about my plans after college. A few days later, he told me that Randall Dollahon at University of Miami was looking for a graduate teaching assistant for the upcoming year and that he had recommended me. I’m quite sure it was Jack’s vote of confidence that tipped the scales in my favor and got me the position.
I also had a few other standout teachers at UNT. I took a jazz fundamentals class with Dan Haerle, the jazz piano teacher, and was immediately taken with his concise, clear way of explaining complex concepts, as well as his laid-back, pleasant, sometimes silly personality. I still remember one day when he showed up for class having just shaved off his epic hippie beard. He squinted out over the faces of the students and said, “OH, I didn’t recognize you guys without my beard!” I also really loved his advanced improvisation class both for the information and for the chance to take in more of the Dan Haerle experience. In fact, of all the teachers I have had, I think I have subconsciously tried to emulate Dan’s classroom style the most.
Another important UNT mentor was Rick Peckham who, at the time, was a graduate teaching assistant. I took some private lessons on the side with Rick (unfortunately, jazz guitar private lessons weren’t part of the curriculum at the time, so I never got to study privately with Jack) and really loved when he would periodically give informal workshops for the guitar students. Like Dan, he had a friendly, approachable personality and a clever sense of humor. Rick was also a little more versed in modern styles and exposed me to John Scofield, Mike Stern, and other influential jazz musicians and recordings. Rick went on to a successful career as one of the top teachers at the Berklee School of Music.
While there were no jazz guitar lessons offered at UNT, all jazz guitar students were required to take classical guitar lessons every semester. I had a few different teachers at first but eventually got assigned to Philip Hii. Philip had actually gone to Berklee as a jazz arranging student but was also a highly accomplished classical guitarist. I have met few musicians who are as dedicated to their craft as Philip, and getting to study with him was tremendously inspiring. Because he also had a jazz background, I felt like his approach was much more relatable. Fortunately, I was able to continue studying with him for the remainder of my time at UNT, and I fairly easily passed my “barrier exam” (basically a recital but with only teachers in attendance) for classical guitar upon my graduation.
Someone else who was an indispensable part of my education at UNT wasn’t actually a teacher but a fellow student. After both Rick Peckham and Bruce Saunders (another ace grad student) graduated, a guy named Pete McCann became the top guitarist at the school. Pete was an irrepressibly good-natured giant of a guy from Wisconsin (with an epic accent to prove it) and one of the best jazz guitarists I’d ever heard. Somehow we became pretty good friends and spent many hours playing duo and talking about jazz and guitar (mostly me asking him questions like “how do you get that sound?” or “what was that lick you just played?”). I am really thankful that Pete was willing to hang and play with me since, at the time, I was clearly not on the same level as him. I suppose he probably appreciated a kindred spirit who was as crazy about jazz and the guitar as he was. I learned at least as much from Pete as I did from any of my teachers. He has gone on to become a successful and highly respected guitarist on the New York jazz scene as well as a veteran teacher.
Once I got to the University of Miami, I was privileged to learn from some more fantastic teachers. Randall Dollahon was my supervising professor; I was overjoyed to actually get to take official private lessons with him. In his own way, he could be a bit intimidating, and I still remember him asking me early on how many tunes I knew. I proudly told him I knew quite a few and that I had a list. He asked me to bring it to the next lesson. When I showed him the list, he picked one at random and told me to play the melody. Hmmm, I couldn’t quite remember the melody to that one. So he picked another. Oh, I couldn’t remember how the bridge went. Finally, after several tries, he picked one that I felt confident I knew. So he counted me in and had me play the melody. As I was playing, I noticed him making marks on a pad with a pencil. When I finished, he announced, “Well, I counted eleven mistakes in that melody.” The lesson was that I needed to be more thorough in learning tunes, learning the correct melody, and not saying I “knew” a tune until I really knew it. I grew to really admire Randall’s exhaustive and detailed approach and his tireless dedication to excellence. I always strive to live up to his example.
Other UM teachers who were greatly helpful and also role models to me included Whit Sidener, Ron Miller, and Steve Rucker. I played in the Concert Jazz Band, the big band that Whit directed, and took an excellent improvisation class with him as well. Ron taught jazz composition. I loved his gentle, accepting, and somewhat hands-off approach that made students feel like they could be free to be creative and be themselves. I’ve stayed in touch with Ron over the years and have participated in numerous “Ronjams” at his house which are always lots of fun. Steve, who taught drums, was never officially one of my teachers, but I was recruited to play on a student recording project that he produced, and he immediately struck me as friendly, encouraging, and enthusiastic, and I knew how much the drum students revered him. In the ensuing years, I’ve gotten to know Steve very well, and we continue to be good friends and musical collaborators. I admire him equally as a musician and a person.
The other presence who looms large as a mentor is, of course, Mick Goodrick, who inspired my Confessions of a Stupid Guitarist and basically my whole musical existence. In addition to my life-changing lesson with him, I have spent countless hours working on the concepts presented in his book The Advancing Guitarist and in his three-volumes of Voice Leading Almanacs. The almanacs contain multiple lifetimes of musical material that have enriched my artistic voice in more ways than I can explain. They have also brought me thousands of hours of joy exploring the exciting possibilities that they offer. My main mission as a teacher has become to try to help disseminate this treasure trove of musical wisdom and to make it more accessible to musicians everywhere.