With my intended field being jazz performance and composition, a big part of playing music is collaborating with other musicians when playing and rehearsing for gigs. When learning music for an upcoming concert or job, there isn’t usually enough time for multiple rehearsals, so there are session days where we as jazz musicians jam out over tunes and sometimes turn these sessions into bonding moments, sharing stories and collaborating other ideas and solos for better playing. Collaboration to me is the act of lifting each other up and helping each other grow as musicians. The more I play with other artists, the more I get to learn the different styles and techniques other musicians developed. A big moment that inspired me to keep pursuing my music career is the hour before a concert. I love the moments where all the musicians are a little bit nervous and dressed very nicely and ready to go on and perform. It’s those moments where we all share the same feelings and, after the performance, the elation and joy of a good performance, really builds the community and connection among different people who share one love of playing music. I love every moment before, during, and after a concert where I get to play out my feelings and display the dedication all of us talented musicians put into the performance. Playing with other musicians makes me feel as though I am part of something much greater than I ever could have imagined. One big collaboration that has changed my perception of musical performance were the lessons with my saxophone teacher. When we practiced, we would always come up with interesting ways to modernize old jazz standards and add new chords and progressions to make the engagement of the audience more prominent. We always discuss intros and endings to pieces and share details on different shows either of us are playing. This collaboration means so much to me and my musical education because I carry on my teacher’s musical journey and get to keep playing music that he played since he has stopped going around playing gigs as much. It doesn’t matter what your age is or where you are in your journey, everyone still learns and grows from one another when collaborating together. I cherish these collaborations because I get to build friendships outside of a business or academic setting and they ultimately make me a better musician.

Whenever I hear the smooth voices of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, I’m instantly transported to my childhood kitchen, where my father and I would make pasta dough and Italian meatballs to the swinging backdrop of jazz. I was born a descendant of long lines of Italian Americans on both sides of my family. For us, cooking was not just a hobby but a lifestyle deeply rooted in our everyday home. Jazz became part of the fabric of who I was, like the flavor of my grandmother’s sauce or the rhythm of my father’s laughter. Though the music lay dormant for years, the moment I picked up the saxophone in high school, I realized that jazz wasn’t just a genre — it was the soundtrack to my life, linking my Italian heritage to the cultural mosaic of New York City, the birthplace of so many jazz legends. When I first expressed my desire to study music, I was met with concern from every direction — family, teachers, and even friends warned me of the financial instability and uncertainty of pursuing an art form. The word 'risky' became associated with 'music.' But then my father, a film major who understood artists' sacrifices, offered me a simple but powerful truth: "You might make it big, and you might not. But you cannot make this choice for any reason other than the love of music, or you may regret it." My dad had made many sacrifices in his pursuit of film, so he understood the sacrifices that needed to be made to achieve the goals of any art major. These words kept me from fully committing to music for a bit. The thought that you would have to take a leap of faith, a risk bigger than any other, to achieve a goal is almost impossible. The single-word question “Why?” is how I keep myself on the straight and narrow road. As long as I play for myself and I love it, then I am not making a mistake, and my dad would be proud that I am choosing to do something I love over something that is more “financially stable.” What fascinated me most about jazz was its freedom. I was obsessed with improvisational freedom, the way each note tells a story. As I learned to navigate the saxophone, I learned how each note could communicate with one another. The notes would argue, yell, scream for joy, and could profess love. The limitless possibilities of what notes, my notes, could say made every solo I play feel like a conversation between me and my audience. I could ask questions and I could provide answers all in one, with every rest, a pause of thought. I learned that style of music and learned all the rules to break them, building up texture to make such complex harmonies in perfect cacophony. From that moment in the kitchen, with the sounds of Dean Martin at the Blue Note club and Frank Sinatra’s beautiful arrangement of ‘Angel Eyes’ with the Count Basie band, I would always be reminded of the happiness jazz has and will always bring me. I know that the road will be long and grueling, filled with challenges most would give up on, but I am fueled by my love for music, the same love that my dad had for his art, and the same love I have connected to my father. I will be attending Montclair State University's John J. Cali School Of Music majoring in Jazz Performance and Composition with hopes to pursue Film Composing.

Whenever I hear the smooth voices of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, I’m instantly transported to my childhood kitchen, where my father and I would make pasta dough and Italian meatballs to the swinging backdrop of jazz. I was born a descendant of long lines of Italian Americans on both sides of my family. For us, cooking was not just a hobby but a lifestyle deeply rooted in our everyday home. Jazz became part of the fabric of who I was, like the flavor of my grandmother’s sauce or the rhythm of my father’s laughter. Though the music lay dormant for years, the moment I picked up the saxophone in high school, I realized that jazz wasn’t just a genre — it was the soundtrack to my life, linking my Italian heritage to the cultural mosaic of New York City, the birthplace of so many jazz legends. When I first expressed my desire to study music, I was met with concern from every direction — family, teachers, and even friends warned me of the financial instability and uncertainty of pursuing an art form. The word 'risky' became associated with 'music.' But then my father, a film major who understood artists' sacrifices, offered me a simple but powerful truth: "You might make it big, and you might not. But you cannot make this choice for any reason other than the love of music, or you may regret it." My dad had made many sacrifices in his pursuit of film, so he understood the sacrifices that needed to be made to achieve the goals of any art major. These words kept me from fully committing to music for a bit. The thought that you would have to take a leap of faith, a risk bigger than any other, to achieve a goal is almost impossible. The single-word question “Why?” is how I keep myself on the straight and narrow road. As long as I play for myself and I love it, then I am not making a mistake, and my dad would be proud that I am choosing to do something I love over something that is more “financially stable.” What fascinated me most about jazz was its freedom. I was obsessed with improvisational freedom, the way each note tells a story. As I learned to navigate the saxophone, I learned how each note could communicate with one another. The notes would argue, yell, scream for joy, and could profess love. The limitless possibilities of what notes, my notes, could say made every solo I play feel like a conversation between me and my audience. I could ask questions and I could provide answers all in one, with every rest, a pause of thought. I learned that style of music and learned all the rules to break them, building up texture to make such complex harmonies in perfect cacophony. From that moment in the kitchen, with the sounds of Dean Martin at the Blue Note club and Frank Sinatra’s beautiful arrangement of ‘Angel Eyes’ with the Count Basie band, I would always be reminded of the happiness jazz has and will always bring me. I know that the road will be long and grueling, filled with challenges most would give up on, but I am fueled by my love for music, the same love that my dad had for his art, and the same love I have connected to my father. My future plans include attending Montclair State University's John J. Cali School Of Music majoring in Jazz Performance and Composition.

For me, "One Heart, One Beat..." is a symbol of the connection musicians have with each other. I dream of pursuing a higher level of music education mainly for that experience of being in an ensemble that fills a stage with hopes and dreams of becoming musicians (a different experience from my high school ensembles.) I see the quote as describing all of us to have a shared heart, experiencing the same beat in time. My best in-person experience of this was when I played with an audition band and our conductor spent the first hour on nothing but breathing. At first I was baffled that we wasted time on something other than the music we had to learn, but it was not until much later that I understood why we spent the whole time breathing. It was to put our breaths, our heart beats, in sync. My conductor understood the necessity for musicians of a single ensemble to share the same heart, so we practiced breathing in one beat before we began to play (as most musicians do when playing a wind instrument) but I liked the idea of also including the percussionists in and the other band advisors. My conductor wanted to instill the power of sharing a mind and expression with those around you. I could feel in that moment when we took a breath as a group and all played the first note at the exact same time that I was where I wanted to be. After that experience I longed for that same feeling of connection, a place of no judgement or criticism among your peers, we all feel the music and the emotion that comes out of it as if we are one single entity of sound. Playing with large bands makes me feel like I am a part of something much greater than I ever could have imagined. A group of people in sync who share the dream to pursue something most people would frown upon (the idea that wanting to pursue music and art may not be the most financially stable decision.) The phrase "One Heart, One Beat..." evokes a sense of togetherness and shared experience, implying that it is possible for a group of people who have never met each other, strangers, people from all different backgrounds and life-choices, can feel connected and belong, making this idea especially important in a world like today that is still undoubtedly filled with classifications and judgements of people from looks to opinions. Everyone, even people that are not musicians, should remind themselves "One Heart, One Beat." We are all human and we all experience the same things, just presented differently. When I pursue a higher education of music I hope to teach people about a shared heart and a shared beat, hopefully spreading the message around the world.

Whenever I hear the smooth voices of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, I’m instantly transported to my childhood kitchen, where my father and I would make pasta dough and Italian meatballs to the swinging backdrop of jazz. I was born a descendant of long lines of Italian Americans on both sides of my family. For us, cooking was not just a hobby but a lifestyle deeply rooted in our everyday home. Jazz became part of the fabric of who I was, like the flavor of my grandmother’s sauce or the rhythm of my father’s laughter. Though the music lay dormant for years, the moment I picked up the saxophone in high school, I realized that jazz wasn’t just a genre — it was the soundtrack to my life, linking my Italian heritage to the cultural mosaic of New York City, the birthplace of so many jazz legends. The ability to tell a story, make a statement, convey an emotion, or make someone’s day are leading factors of motivation I experience. Playing music and growing as a musician is necessary for me because it allows the music I create to mature and change over time as I gain more experience. I began playing the piano from a young age but, through school, I have developed a connection with my primary instrument: the tenor saxophone. A big goal is to influence more people with my music. To make them feel ways that they never believed they could feel, ways I felt when I heard music that would transport me to a fond memory. My goal is to pursue jazz performance and arranging in college and, after all the studying and practice, I hope to one day compose music for film, incorporating the old styles of jazz and funk that have disappeared from the modern music scene. Musical habits I wish to develop at my time in college are imperative to my success as a musician because they develop to remind me why I started playing music in the first place. With the absence of effort and motivation, we make no authentic progress. My dreams of playing music for the world, and hearing my music through a silver screen, cannot come true without my effort to study, practice, and learn, for the rest of my life. To motivate myself to grow as a musician requires admitting that I may not always ready. Pushing yourself to the limit may sound bad, but the more you press, the more you grow, and if you never stop growing, then is there a limit? From that moment in the kitchen, with the sounds of Dean Martin at the Blue Note club and Frank Sinatra’s beautiful arrangement of ‘Angel Eyes’ with the Count Basie band, I would always be reminded of the happiness jazz has and will always bring me. I know that the road will be long and grueling, filled with challenges most would give up on, but I am fueled by my love for music, the same love that my dad had for his art, and the same love I have connected to my father. From that moment in the kitchen, I had decided I would stop at nothing to maintain the perfect image of happiness—a moment with my father, doing something we both enjoyed, listening to something we both loved—forever.