Beyond the Notes with Vonn Vanier

The Heart of the Matter

Vonn Vanier

Imagine you're a professional musician. You've flown halfway across the world for a big concert in Istanbul. You walk out on stage... and there are three people in the audience. The band literally outnumbers the crowd. So what do you do?

That one story from violinist Jeremy Cohen got host Vonn Vanier thinking: In a creative life full of uncertainty, in a business known for being brutal, what is the engine that actually keeps you going?

This special episode pieces together the answer. Drawing from the archives of Beyond the Notes, Vonn traces a journey through the four essential stages of a creative life. It's a path that begins with a private spark of magic in the studio with Grammy-winning sound engineer Leslie Ann Jones; builds into an unbreakable bond on a stage with Jeremy Cohen and his quartet; grows into a hard-won connection with the wider world through the perseverance of acclaimed composer Peter Boyer; and ends with the profound weight of a mentor's final words, in a story from legendary producer John Snyder about the man who discovered Bob Dylan.

This isn't a story about fame or fortune. This is the story of what keeps you going.

Guests in this episode:

  • Leslie Ann Jones: Multi-Grammy Award-Winning Skywalker Sound Engineer
  • Jeremy Cohen: Multi-Grammy Nominated Violinist, Founder of Quartet San Francisco
  • Peter Boyer: Grammy-Nominated Composer
  • John Snyder: Grammy-Award Winning Record Producer

Listen to the full episodes here:


Podcast Script: "The Heart of the Matter"

VONN (Voiceover - Conversational, story-teller tone):

Imagine you're a professional musician. A violinist. You're part of a quartet, and you've flown halfway across the world for a big concert in Istanbul. You've prepared, you've rehearsed. You're ready.

You walk out on stage... the lights are hot, but the house is cold. There are three people in the audience.

Three. The band literally outnumbers the crowd.

So what do you do? Do you get angry? Do you phone it in, play the set as fast as possible? I mean, who would blame you?

Well, when this actually happened to my guest Jeremy Cohen, he said the choice was clear.

(CLIP START)
Jeremy Cohen:

It doesn't really change what we need to do. I think the important thing is that whenever we're playing for an audience, we can change the trajectory of somebody's life by giving ourselves fully as an artist to the task at hand.
(CLIP END)

VONN (VO - REFLECTION):

And that... that got me thinking. What is that? That feeling. That commitment. That engine. In a creative life that's full of uncertainty and rejection... in a business that's known for pulling every trick in the book... where does that come from?

Today on our show, we're looking for the answer. A special episode with four stories from our archives that get to the heart of that question. It's a journey that starts with a private spark of magic... builds into a bond on a stage... grows into a connection with an audience... and ends with the weight of a legacy.

This is the story of what keeps you going.

I'm Vonn Vanier, and this is Beyond the Notes. Stay with us.

VONN: Act One. The Spark.

VONN (Voiceover - Conversational, thoughtful):

You know, there are two kinds of people at any job, right? There are the people who do exactly what they're told. They stay in their lane, they do their part of the assembly line, and that's it. And then... there are the people who are always looking around the corner. The people who are thinking about the next step, about the whole machine.

That's the first thing you need to know about Grammy-winning sound engineer Leslie Ann Jones. She's the second kind of person. It's a philosophy she's had from day one.

(CLIP START)
Leslie Ann Jones:

From the time I first started, I always thought about things, not from just where I was sitting, but the next stage up. So when I was an assistant engineer, I thought a lot about, I try to think a lot like the engineer. To try and anticipate what the engineer might need in terms of, you know, a different microphone or something like that or paying attention to what the artists were saying... And when I was an engineer, then I started thinking like the producer... I would really try and think like the person whose job was next. And that allowed the recording sessions to move a lot faster and for me to be able to anticipate what people wanted.
(CLIP END)

VONN (VO - REFLECTION):

'Think like the person whose job was next.' It's such a simple idea, but it's a profound one. So what does that actually look like in the real world? What happens when you have that mindset, and you run into a problem?

Well, one day, a Dixieland band was in the studio, and they ran into a problem.

(CLIP START)
Leslie Ann Jones:

I remember... I was recording a kind of a Dixiel-and big band... and they blew the ending of a take... and I said well no why don't we just... back up 16 measures and just start playing and... I'll edit it together. That concept was completely foreign to them... we recorded the ending and it was perfect. And I got the two together and they came in and heard it they were just astounded. So I suppose that of anything made me feel like a sonic wizard.
(CLIP END)

VONN (VO):

And you hear that story, and you understand. That's the spark. That's the feeling. It's not just about being clever. It's the feeling of having a real, tangible impact. Of seeing the look on that band's face when you've done something they thought was impossible.

And for Leslie... that feeling would end up changing everything. She had originally planned a different career path entirely. But after moments like that, where she could physically shape the sound... she realized where she truly belonged.

(CLIP START)
Leslie Ann Jones:

Well, you know, when I started, I wanted to be a music producer and a manager... but you know, the more I got involved on the technical side of engineering... and the more I understood sort of being in the room with really great producers... I definitely gravitated more towards the engineering side. I felt that I could really shape the sound of what people were doing and have quite a big impact on what they were doing as well. I suppose somewhere along the line I felt that that was the path forward.
(CLIP END)

VONN: Act Two. The Bond.

VONN (Voiceover - Conversational, thoughtful):

So you have that spark. That private feeling of magic. But a spark in one person isn't a fire. And this is where things get really hard. Because a string quartet... it's a strange and beautiful thing. It's four soloists, four virtuosos, each one with their own ideas, their own instincts, who have all agreed to pretend they're not the main character.

So how does that even work? How do you get four people who are trained to stand out, to blend into one? I asked violinist Jeremy Cohen, the founder of Quartet San Francisco, about that. And he said, it starts with a very simple, shared mission.

(CLIP START)
Jeremy Cohen:

Well, if they love this, why don't we just play things for string quartet that we love? You know, and then we can be fully invested... We got into the music world, not for those reasons. We got in for the music. We got into the music world because we found a place for expressivity, for expression, for the connection, for the social connection between us and our colleagues playing together...
(CLIP END)

VONN (VO - REFLECTION):

Okay, so that's the big idea. A shared passion. But how does that work in practice, on a Tuesday, in a stuffy rehearsal room, when two of you feel a phrase completely differently? What's the tactical solution to the problem of ego?

Well, it turns out, it's a kind of radical democracy. A belief that for the group to be powerful, every single member has to feel powerful.

(CLIP START)
Jeremy Cohen:

Every player has to feel for the group to be successful. Every player has to feel that their voice is a critical part of what makes the quartet music good. I say in Quartet San Francisco, at one point or another in every piece, everybody is the first violinist. The distribution of material around the quartet has everybody looking out for certain parts of the piece where their voice is going to be the most critical voice. And how do we make sure that the others know to make space for that voice at that time so it happens seamlessly?
(CLIP END)

VONN (VO):

So you have these two ideas: a shared passion, and a radical respect for each other's voices. But a philosophy is just a philosophy until it gets tested. And the real test isn't what you do in a sold-out stadium, where the energy is easy. It's what you do when almost no one is watching.

(CLIP START)
Jeremy Cohen:

He didn't put out the word, so it turns out there were four of us on stage and three for a while in the audience. I think it ended up being five or six by the end of the concert, but it started with three. What do I learn from that? It doesn't really change what we need to do. I think the important thing is that whenever we're playing for an audience, we can change the trajectory of somebody's life by giving ourselves fully as an artist to the task at hand.
(CLIP END) 

VONN (VO - REFLECTION):

'It doesn't really change what we need to do.' You hear that, and you understand. This is what all that work, all that trust, is for. It's not just a way to play together. It's a kind of armor. It's what allows them, in that moment on stage, to forget everything else... the empty seats, the long flight, the fear of making a mistake... and just do the thing they came to do.

Which, when Jeremy describes it... sounds a lot like flying.

(CLIP START)
Jeremy Cohen:

I don't care about mistakes. Don't play careful. Play like it's your last concert. Give it everything you have... We work in an environment where we spend time talking, we spend time playing, and when we go to concert, we spend time flying, period.
(CLIP END)

VONN: Act Three. The Connection.

VONN (Voiceover - Conversational, thoughtful):

And that's the feeling, isn't it? The moment a group of musicians on stage takes flight. It's a collective, in-the-moment kind of magic.

But there's this whole other side to the story. The composer. A quieter, more solitary journey. And for a composer like Peter Boyer, after decades of work, a certain kind of reputation is built. You become the person who gets called when the subject is America. When the stakes aren't just about a new piece of music, but about capturing a piece of national history.

(CLIP START)
Peter Boyer:

It was a call... completely out of the blue from Kathy Cahill, the president and CEO of the Mann Center... And she very excitedly started saying, 'We're gonna have this amazing thing... for our 50th anniversary... about the Centennial Exhibition of 1876... We want you to write it. Will you write it?'
(CLIP END)

VONN (VO - REFLECTION):

And this is the thing about that kind of success. The responsibility is immense. It's no longer just about writing a good piece. It's about honoring a legacy. And that kind of pressure... it only gets heavier. When Peter got another one of those calls—this one from the Kennedy Center, for a piece celebrating America's 250th anniversary—he was already completely booked.

The opportunity was monumental. The reality was a logistical nightmare. And the only way to solve a problem of that scale... wasn't a business strategy. It was a creative breakthrough from acclaimed photographer, and collaborator, Joe Sohm.

(CLIP START)
Peter Boyer:

So part of what made this project so interesting is that my visual collaborator, a man named Joe Sohm... his idea was, rather than completely write this new piece... from scratch, why don't we do... 'Peter Boyer's greatest hits,' and let's take chunks from multiple existing works of yours, but repurpose them... So that actually was a fantastic idea and it made it more possible for me to do this project.
(CLIP END)

VONN (VO - REFLECTION):

And you hear that, and you realize something. This isn't a story about a composer being saved. It's a story about what collaboration looks like at the highest level. It's a creative partner seeing a different angle, a smarter path. It proves that the 'friends' part of the business isn't just about camaraderie. At this level... it's a strategy. It's how the impossible gets done.

Which brings us to the final question. Why do it? Why take on these massive, history-making projects? What's the real payoff?

And the answer... it gets right to the heart of what keeps you going.

(CLIP START)
Peter Boyer:

I have an opportunity to uplift people in front of me... I have an opportunity through this incredible vessel of the orchestra... to connect with people in a way that can give them an experience that they won't be able to have anywhere else... I know that I've been able to actually touch people and give them emotional and meaningful and uplifting experiences. So... you know, what's better than that? That's the greatest thing. That's a payoff.
(CLIP END)

VONN: Act Four. The Legacy.

VONN (Voiceover - Conversational, thoughtful):

You know, there are times in life when you have to make that visit. You know the one. The one to say goodbye. The one where you walk into a quiet room and try to find the right words to thank someone who changed your life, without falling apart.

When producer John Snyder went to see his mentor for the last time, it wasn't in a hospital. It was at his house on Sutton Place. But the room had that vibe. A back bedroom, with a hospital bed in it. A private nurse standing by.

And to understand the weight of that moment, you have to understand who John Hammond was. He is more responsible for the sound of the 20th century than almost anyone else.

He found Billie Holiday singing in a club in Harlem. He found Count Basie on a late-night radio broadcast. He signed Bob Dylan when everyone else passed. And Aretha Franklin. And Leonard Cohen. He signed Stevie Ray Vaughan when he was playing in a hotel lobby. He signed Bruce Springsteen. He mentored my guest, John Snyder.

That's why Snyder was in that room that day. To say goodbye.

(CLIP START)
John Snyder:

When he was dying, I went to see him... And he made me come up to his bed... because we were talking politics, because that's what he liked to talk about. He had to leave. His nurses were telling me I had to go. And so, 'Hammond, I have to leave now.' And I stood up and he said, 'Come over here.' So I stepped up and he said, 'No, come closer.' 'John, come up to my bed, will you?' And so I got right up to his bed. He grabs me by the arm and he said, 'It's up to you now.' And I walked home from there in New York thinking, 'That is not, I cannot do that. That is not me. I cannot do that.' But he just said it.
(CLIP END)

VONN (VO - REFLECTION):

'It's up to you now.'

And you can just picture it, right? John walking out of that apartment on Sutton Place, onto 57th Street, with those words just hanging in the air. You can hear in his voice, he couldn't understand it that night. Why him?

That's the great thing about mentors. They can see in us what we can't yet see in ourselves. And in John, Hammond saw a champion.

The truth is, Snyder had been championing artist rights for decades by this point. That's a complicated way of saying that he cared. For real.

The truth is, Hammond wasn't the only one who saw it.

Ornette Coleman knew.

Ornette was a true genius, a saxophonist and complete iconoclast who invented his own complete system for music. It has a name: Harmolodics. And the kind of artist who thinks on that level... they're not always concerned with the day-to-day things, like paying the bills on time. He was a pure artist. And he was in trouble.

(CLIP START)
John Snyder:

He had so many legal problems as soon as I got to know him... he was gonna lose his loft because of various reasons and I went to court and got a 30-day... they were coming to get him... we did have to, we had to sell the place. Then I had to get him a place to live. And then I got him a tour of Europe... but we got it, we did it. I ended up losing a ton of money, but whatever. You know, I was helping him get his life together. He was a great artist who was not being treated that way. I mean, it was phenomenal to me.
(CLIP END)

VONN (VO):

And when you hear that story... it all clicks into place. That's what Hammond saw. That's the proof. A person willing to lose his own money to protect an uncompromising artist. And it makes you ask a final question. What's the deep, core belief that makes you do that? What's the philosophy that drives those kinds of actions?

Well, it turns out, it's a belief in what music is actually for.

(CLIP START)
John Snyder:

The value of exchange of music is not just culture and commerce, it's empathy. And the more of that, the more people care about each other through the exchange of creative work. If you want somebody to hear your music, you're going to have to give some thought to them and care about them in some way. They need to hear this. And so that's what creates this empathetic exchange. And I think that creates community. That creates peace. We need more of this in the world that we're living in today, which is not a peaceful world.
(CLIP END)

VONN (VO):

And that's the answer, isn't it? To the quiet question. How do you survive?

You survive because of a spark of magic in a studio. And because of a bond you form on a stage. And because of the trust you earn from an audience. And because someone, somewhere, who saw that you cared, for real, grabbed you by the arm and told you that it was up to you now.

You survive the business... because you remember that it's not about the business at all.

(PAUSE)

My thanks to Leslie Ann Jones, Jeremy Cohen, Peter Boyer, and John Snyder for sharing their stories with us. You can hear my full conversations with all of them in our podcast feed.

I'm Vonn Vanier, and you've been listening to Beyond the Notes. Thanks for listening.