2024 was the year I stopped being just a working musician and started building a portfolio. Not for vanity, but because I finally understood that if I wanted to step out of the small leagues, I had to act like I already belonged elsewhere.
The biggest milestone? Obviously, finishing my doctorate. That was the turning point. But alongside it came a steady flow of arranging gigs - for Nanyang Poly, Musical Touch, High Notes - writing for everything from concert bands to jazz big bands to string ensembles with rhythm sections. Quietly, things were levelling up.
The wake-up call came while I was mid-set at a generic bistro gig. I had the letters “Dr” in front of my name.. and I was comping behind a singer for a horribly written song. That was the moment. I knew I had to stop saying yes to easy cash and start saying yes to things that actually built something.
Hardest part? Walking away from the money. The low-effort gigs pay so well. Meanwhile, some of the most artistically fulfilling things I did this year actually cost me. But you can’t have it both ways. Lesson learned: don’t overcommit, especially to things that don’t feed the long game.
If I had to sum up where I’m at now in one word: clarity. ie., less noise. More direction.
Lately, I have been reflecting quite a bit on my own research identity. Not the academic kind involving CV lines or publications, but the deeper question of what I actually care about in music and tea
SRMC recently put out a short Ask Me Anything reel just of me on a stool answering questions about guilty-pleasure tunes, on-stage slip-ups, and the best advice I’ve had as a musician; light stuff! Bu
I wanted to take a moment to document this while it’s still fresh in my head. Earlier this month, I played what might have been my first proper large-scale jazz gig in years: a big band show with the
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