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I certainly did not expect to have this kind of reaction to a teacher passing, but it hit me immediately when I heard the news how much of an impact that man had on us as students, I’m pretty broken up over it. I’ve certainly written about him here before, most likely how I tormented him making dumb guitar noises/trying to copy his words by pitch as he was talking, random volume swells, etc. that got me kicked out of class more than once.
There’s 2 major things he taught us that I think every musician should have in their back pocket-
“You’re only a half step away from the right note”
Every time someone hit a bum note he’d say it to us and give us examples of how to get to that next note to get out of the bum note, with a slur or rhythmic rest, or to stay on it long enough that no one thinks it’s the wrong note. Every time I hit a wrong note (and I do it a LOT) that phrase pops in my mind. It’s bailed me out numerous times onstage over the years. (Yes, I know this doesn’t apply to every situation, spare me the theory lesson)
“Practice on your own time”
This one got said to me a LOT. If we were noodling or cramming to learn a part before/during class he’d say it. Back then I thought it was just his way of being a dick but once I started my first original band and was taking music seriously as an adult, it became my favorite saying. Maybe a quarter of that phrase has to do with actual practice, the bigger point was “Respect the group you’re playing with, respect the allotted time you have to do it in, respect the music and respect yourself by showing up prepared”
He was the first “old dude” I knew who had such a passion for music that it legitimized being a musician for the duration of my life rather than it being a teenager phase. That guy’s warmup on his clarinet would always be a single, ridiculously fast scale run and he was ready to go. I don’t know where that man found the energy for it, but on average he was juggling the high school band/marching band while playing in an orchestra….or two, while also instructing jazz ensembles in other cities.
My first 3 years with Mr. Libby weren’t the best, I was too focused on being the class clown/Steve Vai wannabe and there was nothing redeeming in my playing at that point. It wasn’t until my senior year that we first saw eye to eye when I busted ass one summer to learn the quads so I could play them in marching band and pulled it off, only to quit before marching band season started when a practice ran too late and I was unable to go purchase Vai’s The Ultra Zone on release day. He asked me if I was really going to quit over a CD and when I said “He’s my Satchmo” he understood me. I was still in the competition jazz bands and I had started to truly apply myself, playing solos fitting of jazz band instead of every wrong note Steve Vai ever hit.
When I won 1st place for a solo at the first competition I thought it would rub him the wrong way, like he now had to congratulate me unwillingly, but that wasn’t the case at all. Nothing but positive encouragement and by the end of that season I had earned his respect as a musician, which isn’t something that had occurred with any other adult at that point. Hell, it still hasn’t happened with my own father.
That man instructed a TON of students over the years, thousands, and for those who stuck with it and still play, I can guarantee they’re still utilizing his lessons on a regular basis.
RIP, Mr. Libby.
There’s 2 major things he taught us that I think every musician should have in their back pocket-
“You’re only a half step away from the right note”
Every time someone hit a bum note he’d say it to us and give us examples of how to get to that next note to get out of the bum note, with a slur or rhythmic rest, or to stay on it long enough that no one thinks it’s the wrong note. Every time I hit a wrong note (and I do it a LOT) that phrase pops in my mind. It’s bailed me out numerous times onstage over the years. (Yes, I know this doesn’t apply to every situation, spare me the theory lesson)
“Practice on your own time”
This one got said to me a LOT. If we were noodling or cramming to learn a part before/during class he’d say it. Back then I thought it was just his way of being a dick but once I started my first original band and was taking music seriously as an adult, it became my favorite saying. Maybe a quarter of that phrase has to do with actual practice, the bigger point was “Respect the group you’re playing with, respect the allotted time you have to do it in, respect the music and respect yourself by showing up prepared”
He was the first “old dude” I knew who had such a passion for music that it legitimized being a musician for the duration of my life rather than it being a teenager phase. That guy’s warmup on his clarinet would always be a single, ridiculously fast scale run and he was ready to go. I don’t know where that man found the energy for it, but on average he was juggling the high school band/marching band while playing in an orchestra….or two, while also instructing jazz ensembles in other cities.
My first 3 years with Mr. Libby weren’t the best, I was too focused on being the class clown/Steve Vai wannabe and there was nothing redeeming in my playing at that point. It wasn’t until my senior year that we first saw eye to eye when I busted ass one summer to learn the quads so I could play them in marching band and pulled it off, only to quit before marching band season started when a practice ran too late and I was unable to go purchase Vai’s The Ultra Zone on release day. He asked me if I was really going to quit over a CD and when I said “He’s my Satchmo” he understood me. I was still in the competition jazz bands and I had started to truly apply myself, playing solos fitting of jazz band instead of every wrong note Steve Vai ever hit.
When I won 1st place for a solo at the first competition I thought it would rub him the wrong way, like he now had to congratulate me unwillingly, but that wasn’t the case at all. Nothing but positive encouragement and by the end of that season I had earned his respect as a musician, which isn’t something that had occurred with any other adult at that point. Hell, it still hasn’t happened with my own father.
That man instructed a TON of students over the years, thousands, and for those who stuck with it and still play, I can guarantee they’re still utilizing his lessons on a regular basis.
RIP, Mr. Libby.
