Mistakes, misunderstandings and nature of jazz

As with most cliches and motivational quotes, I’ve forgotten where I first heard the following one regarding jazz music. It goes something like this: “When you play the wrong note once, it’s a mistake. When you play it again, it’s jazz.” On first pass, it seems like a subtle jab at jazz music as a genre, as if every jazz musician out there just hits wrong keys all the time, muttering something to the effect of, “Yeah, man, it’s interpretive art. You wouldn’t understand.”

Of course, that’s simply not the case (nor is it the focus of this column). Actually, I think that quote compliments the intentionality of jazz and the jazz musician. The “wrong” note isn’t truly wrong; we thought it sounded a little off-key, but it’s all part of the beauty of jazz’s eccentricity and its unwillingness to sound like everything else. Jazz isn’t a collection of mistakes. If we perceive it as such, then we misunderstand the nature of mistakes.

We can have some foresight, but we typically evaluate the real-life consequences of our actions retroactively. People who tell you otherwise either conflate intentions with results or still use Magic 8-Balls to make their decisions. (“What do you mean ‘try again later’? Class starts in 10 minutes, and I need to know if I should study for this quiz now!”) In other words, we can’t predict the future. We can only try our very best to align our actions with our intended ends.

I think we frequently put too much pressure on ourselves to constantly achieve those desired ends. We’re unwilling to commit what we consider “mistakes” because those actions appear too far off the beaten track; in fact, oftentimes we prefer to play it safe — with our music, our clothes, our relationships, even our food choices — because we’re afraid of making mistakes. Or, perhaps even worse, we’re afraid of others perceiving us of having made mistakes.

I’ll speak for myself here. I know I’m guilty of this behavior. At times, I censor how I act or what I say out of fear of looking mistaken. But like the nature of jazz music, perceiving my off-key actions as wrong simply because they deviate from the norm confuses mistakes with some of the most important aspects of our lives: risk-taking, creativity, adventure and innovation. Without these so-called “mistakes,” we are doomed to mundanity. We would sound like everyone else.

In a society obsessed with image, I’ve found it difficult not to similarly obsess over how I look, what I do and how others might perceive these characteristics. I’ve worried that instead of embodying the beauty in the uniqueness of jazz music, I’ve simply been playing all the wrong notes. It’s only with this deeper reflection that I’ve realized how the desire to be different is essential to a healthy, functioning community that prizes both its diversity and its imagination.

If any of this rings true for you the way it did for me, know that you aren’t alone in toeing the space between the beaten track and the road less traveled. One is not wrong or right based solely on the path chosen. Keep your intentions in mind.

I began with a vague quote, so I think I’ll end with a more direct quote from a poem I keep tacked to my bulletin board. It’s by e. e. cummings, and it goes like this: “To be nobody but yourself — in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else — means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”

I’m rooting for you.

Mia Gettenberg is a UF criminology and law and philosophy junior. Her column appears on Mondays.