Today we’d like to introduce you to Derek Jenkins
Hi Derek, we’re thrilled to have a chance to learn your story today. So, before we get into specifics, maybe you can briefly walk us through how you got to where you are today?
For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated by patterns, repetitions, and numbers. As I grew up, this became an insatiable curiosity about all things mathematics and science, particularly physics. Now, if you know anything about me, at this point you’re probably thinking “Math? Physics? But he’s a musician?!?” True, but for the biggest part of my formative years, I wanted to design and build rocket ships. It was when I was in 8th grade that that all changed. My junior high school hired a new band director, John Oelrich. He started to reveal all of the hidden possibilities within music. He fostered my growth and understanding as a budding musician. He challenged me with various music related tasks and projects that pushed me further into the study of music and helped me find that same fascination with patterns and repetitions from childhood in this new medium. High school was nothing but a continual attempt to engage with music as much and as often as I could. I was in marching band, concert band, jazz band, and orchestra all four years. I joined choir and show choir in my junior year (please, for your sake and mine don’t ask me to sing). I was in two musicals. I did solo and ensemble competitions, All State, and honor bands. But what really stands out to me was my constant desire to explore more.
I started my musical studies on piano. Then tried violin and was terrible at it (but I also didn’t practice so…). Next I tried saxophone, which I played all through high school. And finally, I found the bassoon. Here was my instrument. The one that I wanted to play and become sufficient at, or so I thought. My curiosity wasn’t so easily satiated. I want to know and experience more. I picked up flute when the band director needed it for a jazz band chart. I picked up a baritone when I didn’t like marching saxophone any longer. I played contrabass clarinet when one of my teachers needed another student in her clarinet ensemble. The more that I discovered about music, the more I wanted to learn. Enter: music composition.
With my first attempt at composing, I found that I could “play” any and all instruments or voices that I wanted at any time. I could explore their colors without having to actually learn to play them. (I did need to understand the mechanic, limitations, and physiology of playing them, but that’s a whole different tangent). I had finally found a way to explore to my heart’s content all of the aspects of music that I wanted to. Interested in this particular musical idea: write a piece. Curious about this combination of instruments: write a piece. Want to express outside ideas, like a story or an image: write a piece. Anything and everything music related was now available to me.
From that point onwards, I found myself marching off with a singular focus: to become a composer and college professor. I found many supportive mentors and colleagues, like Mr. O, throughout my college student life. I don’t want to try and name them all for fear of missing anyone, but I would be remiss if I didn’t mentioned James Mobberley, Andrew Granade, and Joseph Parisi in particular. Some have even grown into close friends and confidants. Many of those people helped shape and guide me as a person and musician, and I definitely wouldn’t be where I am today without them. In fact, so much of my success in life came with assistance from the many wonderful people in my life. To them, I am truly indebted.
From the outside, I had a fairly straight ahead path from K-12 student to college student to university professor, almost going straight through from one role to the next without break. I did have one year off between my masters and doctorate, but otherwise I have been directly affiliated with schools since preschool. However, I was burnt out once and almost stopped my schooling. And then later, reached a point where I almost left the field completely.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
Is it ever? Is any road smooth? If it is smooth, are we growing into who we really need to be? Are we really pushing ourselves?
Three items or events stand out to me when thinking about your question.
The first isn’t a singular event, but rather the general ups and downs that comes with being an artist of any kind. In a given year, I will apply to about 2 to 3 dozen calls for scores, festivals, conferences, etc. In a year when I’m actively applying for jobs, add another 6-10 applications. My first year of applying to college teaching gigs, I applied to about 40 jobs. If I get 1 “yes” out of all of those opportunities, I count it as a win. It’s a competitive field. Not just with the number of active composers, but in the sheer quality of music that is produced. I am currently on a committee screening pieces for inclusion on a conference, and I’m blown away with the amount of creative and well-crafted works. This is something I experience every time I am tapped to be an adjudicator. Some years I’m lucky, and some I’m not. But it was impressed upon me by my professors and the last undergraduate roommate (Andrew Cole) that I need to put myself out there, regardless of the outcome. No one gets to know your music, if you don’t put it out there. Applications are a quick, easy, and relatively painless way to do that. But the rejections still sting. Sometimes they sting a lot. Sometimes they feel unfair. Really unfair. Or wrong. Or make me question why bother submitting. Some competitions have age restrictions, and for that it is almost a sigh of relief that I no longer have to worry about applying to (and probably getting rejected by) them ever again. The worst, however, is finding out that you were highly considered but ultimately passed over and due to the nature of the application no “honorable mentions” or “second places” are awarded so you just…..sit with that knowledge….? It is rough, and I don’t envy anyone applying for academic jobs currently. Out of those 40 job applications during the last year of my doctoral program, I moved on to the next level in only 2 of them. Of those, I got to the final round in only 1. However, that 1 ended up offering me a job, and 1 “yes” is all it can take. Sometimes.
The second moment that stands out to me is at the end of my masters in Houston. For many different reasons, I was tired. I had done 7 years of higher education nonstop. I had applied to doctoral programs and wasn’t accepted mainly due to my own failure to expand and diversify my applications. I only applied to two, highly, highly, highly competitive programs. Programs that would take possibly 1, maybe 2, new doctoral students a year. Silly Derek… I had also applied for a Fulbright grant to study in Manchester, England: the single most competitive country for a Fulbright grant. I distinctly remember that I had already heard back from both doctoral programs, and the Fulbright was my last opportunity to do something music-related after I finished my masters. Talk about not playing the odds well. So that summer, I found myself with my first year off from school in my memory. I felt defeated. I was tired. I was ready to try something new. “New” ended up moving back to Kansas City (where I had done my undergraduate studies) and working full-time as a server (and then bartender and aquarium cleaner) at T-Rex Café. I distinctly remember in my interview with the general manager (who I had known from a previous job) when he jokingly told me that if I were still working there 2 years later that he would fire me because he saw something in me and wanted me to succeed. Now I have nothing but the utmost respect for hospitality workers and the jobs that they do, and I am truly grateful for that job. But ultimately it just wasn’t the right fit for me. I made it to November that year and started entertaining the idea of returning to school or at least doing something new. The clear deciding moment for me was the first weekend in December when I was seated within the giant, animatronic octopus above the largest aquarium in the restaurant dressed as Scuba Santa that it dawned on me that my true passion and desire was to be a college professor, despite the burn out earlier that year. And to do so, I needed to go back to school after entertaining a restaurant full of children eager to have “Breakfast with Santa.”
The third thing that stands out to me was when I almost left academia completely. I had entertained the idea to the point where I was starting to feel comfortable with it, which after more than two decades of relentless pursuit of that goal was extremely difficult to do. I had discussed it with my wife, and a plan was in place. One more year to find a new college gig or a completely new field. As you can imagine, this took a lot of time process and significant mental adjusting. For years all I wanted to do was be a composer and college professor. And I had done it! I had the gig! I was doing the thing! I had just been promoted and earned tenure! Life was good…externally. But I was unhappy. I felt worthless and walked on. I was undermined constantly. I felt used. And it felt like, and often was the case that, I received zero support from my supervisors. Despite vocalizing the problems and difficulties that I was experiencing, nothing was ever done. Nothing changed. Gaslighting and lies abounded. For seven years, I had these feelings and issues, and yet I wasn’t heard. I loved the “job” part of the job (the teaching, the composing, the students), but the political games, one-up-man-ship, and tolerance of complacency were cutting me to my core, and thus I began in earnest looking for my way out. I applied to several college teaching jobs again and once more advanced in only 1. But like I mentioned before, it only takes 1 “yes.” I am glad and fortunate that I have found my current gig. I am just wrapping up my first semester here, and I am happier than I have been in a long while. And as a bonus, I have found a fantastic work-life balance, something that was sorely lacking before.
Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
In addition to college teaching, or rather in tandem with it, I am a composer. I am often asked what kind of music I write, which despite its simplicity as a question, is rather difficult to answer. I tend to answer with a generic response about writing concert music for a variety of ensembles and instruments. But really, I try to connect to others with and through my music. Tell a story. Share a thought. Capture an image. Yet it’s not all surface level considerations like that. In constructing my work, I like to tightly knit my pieces together. A small idea here becomes something big later. A throwaway gesture or motif there becomes a device to frame the piece in its deepest background. While I can’t necessarily account for each and every note choice I made when I revisit a piece later, the overarching decisions and the general “how” it came to be still persist.
I, like many active composers that I know, tend not to like being pigeon-holed into a set specialization. I like to hold firm to the idea that as a composer I can work with and through any medium, instrument, voice, etc. to create art. Much akin to Michelangelo, who was primarily a sculptor and yet painted the Sistine Chapel. The medium matters less than the art itself. However, despite trying to be “just a composer”, I have found myself gravitating towards or winding up in particular types of ventures more often. I cut my professional teeth in the wind band world. It was there that I first had a piece begin to take on a life of its own. I like working with bands of all ages (beginning to advanced, middle school to college and beyond). I have come to make many friends among wind band conductors around the world, and I cherish those relationships.
I have also become a little bit of a “space guy” when it comes to composition. I don’t particularly seek this out, but much of my free time reading revolves around space exploration history. I am intrigued by the lives and adventures of the astronauts. All astronauts, but in particular the pre-Shuttle era. The first attempts. The development and refining of skills and techniques. The moon landings. Skylab. All of these events captivate me, and just seem to naturally reveal a musical canvas to me.
But really, it’s the opportunities that intrigue me most. Working with people to create something. To bring it to life. It is exciting. Thrilling. I like working with old friends and new collaborators and just relishing in the fact that we get to bring a little beauty into this world together.
Do you any memories from childhood that you can share with us?
Whew…not sure I could think of just one. I was very fortunate growing up. I have a loving family, and we did a lot together. I lived within 30 minutes of all four of my grandparents and was 17 before I lost my first one. The bulk of my extended family primarily lived within a couple hours of each other, and holidays and celebrations were big events, packing everyone into someone’s house. So picking one is tough, but any and all that are coming to mind right now involve or were a result of having other people in my life.
Playing piano for the first time. My uncle stored a piano at my parents’ house for a little while one year. This was the first time that a musical instrument was in the house. I was immediately intrigued. One of my older cousins, on the other side of the family, had been taking lessons for a few years, and she taught me some Christmas carols that year. I was hooked!
Reading. I read so much as a kid and have continued the practice to today. I remember spending long summer afternoons lounging in my parents’ hammock and just losing myself in a book.
Building LEGOs with my brother. We played with our LEGOs for hours on end. Building rocket ships (go figure), cars, buildings, anything that we could think of. I still enjoy building with LEGOs today.
Family trips. We took many family trips over the years. Typical ones like Disney World happened but so did so many trips to just random places. I remember visiting the Badlands in South Dakota. Spending a week in the middle of Ohio. A trip to D.C. Another to Cape Canaveral. Just exploring the United States. The trip that stands out by far was a summer trip to Germany (that included quick stops in France and Switzerland) right after I had graduated high school. I was born in Germany, and my parents had wanted to take me back there for years. It was a truly amazing and wonderful experience! I loved every minute of it!
I am grateful for everything my family, especially my parents, did for me over the years. Looking back on my childhood, I remember it so fondly, so happily, and so loving. As with any situation, there were ups and downs, but overall I was happy. I truly wish that was the experience everyone could have with their families, and I hope years from now my 2-year-old son will have similar feelings.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.derekmjenkins.com
- Instagram: derek_m_jenkins
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/derek.m.jenkins
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/derek-m-jenkins-composer/
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@Jynx1703
- Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/derek-m-jenkins
