A professional musician’s journey from frustration to flow.
I’m not a music teacher. I’m an instructional designer and a professional musician — largely trained in Western formal systems. I studied jazz performance at the University of Southern California, earned a master’s in Educational Technology from Cal State Northridge, and later added a second master’s in Applied Musicology from Utrecht University in the Netherlands. I’ve spent over 25 years performing, composing, producing live events and CDs, and building creative strategies for the entertainment industry — from touring with the Harry James Orchestra to producing a PBS documentary, to leading business development and marketing for major Hollywood studios. I’ve led hundreds of workshops for educators and students, presented at national and international music education conferences, and published work focused on music learning, groove-based instruction, and creative pedagogy.
And alongside all of this, I’ve spent just as much time in the informal world: learning by ear, jamming with friends, absorbing grooves from funk, pop, rock, Latin, and soul. Not jazz, specifically — but jazzy, contemporary music where the ear, the feel, and global grooves are king.
So, when I saw my own son’s school jazz band only playing music from the 1930s to the ’60s — charts older than most of the teachers — I felt a deep disconnect. Not just stylistically, but philosophically. It wasn’t about disliking the music (I LOVE playing big band music). It was about watching young musicians go through the motions — reading notes, following parts — with no sense of musical agency or relavancy to their lives. No connection to today’s grooves. No belief that their own musical ideas mattered. Hence, it was clear the experience was not accessible to them.
That moment led to a simple, but essential question:
“Is the traditional approach really the best way to prepare students for the modern musical world they’re inheriting?”
The Disconnect
What I saw was a system still designed to produce session players and symphony musicians — the top 1%. That’s a worthy path for a few, but it leaves the rest behind.
What about the students who don’t read fluently, but feel the beat?
The ones remixing, looping, and making beats on their phone?
The ones with raw musical passion who feel invisible in a stack of dusty swing charts?
Those students don’t need watered-down material. They need a different kind of entry point — one that starts where they are and helps them build forward.
The Turning Point
That’s what pushed me to create Unison-Based Content (UBC) — and its core methodology, the Unison Melody & Groove Approach.
This isn’t about simplifying music. It’s about shifting the focus to what makes music work now:
- Shared grooves
- Strong melodies
- Collective creativity
- Space for cultural exploration
- Real listening
- Empowered students
UBC brings everyone into the music through a single melody and flexible rhythm framework — open to all instruments, all abilities, and all styles. It supports non-readers and advanced improvisers alike. It encourages problem-based learning, student-led exploration, and groove-first performance.
It’s about participation, not perfection.
Grounded in Real Experience and Modern Discovery
My background bridges both rigor and freedom. I’ve lived in the world of notation and nuance, and I’ve lived on stage, chasing the pocket and responding in real time. My academic training in Applied Musicology and Educational Technology helped me codify that balance — combining the rigor of musicology and pedagogy with the dynamic realities of how people actually make music.
That’s why UBC is infused with:
- Social Emotional Learning (SEL) principles
- Culturally diverse music education
- Groove-based ensemble learning and improvisation
- Cross-curricular connections
- Modern learning modalities that reflect how students engage today
Put simply: I built UBC for the kids like my son — and maybe the student you once were, too.
If you’ve ever watched a young musician check out in rehearsal — not because they lacked talent, but because the music didn’t speak their language — you know why this matters.
UBC isn’t just a method. It’s a reframing.
This blog exists to share that reframing with you — through stories, tools, charts, and practical ways to reimagine what a music classroom can look and feel like.
Let’s trade perfection for participation.
Let’s make groove, listening, and joy non-negotiable.
Let’s teach music in a way that reflects the world our students are already living in.
Let’s have serious fun in jazzy music education.
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Nia2130
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