We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Anton du Preez a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.
Anton, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. Are you happy as a creative professional? Do you sometimes wonder what it would be like to work for someone else?
I am immensely happy as an artist, and I also have a regular job! I’m a studio singer, film composer, songwriter, and arranger. I’m also a Doctor of Physical Therapy and a board certified specialist in neurologic physical therapy. As anyone feels in their respective fields or positions, I too hope for more success, better gigs, better positions, more recognition, etc. But, I consider myself very lucky to have two professions to fuel those desires.
Finding a balance in both of my careers took years. I could never decide between music and science. I loved both, and like many in our formative years, I was told I had to choose one path. I studied Vocal Performance in undergrad and added Exercise Science midway through as a backup. Through prodigiously hard work I thankfully excelled at both, but I still couldn’t decide which to pursue after graduating. Naturally, I joined the Navy. That’s a different chapter, but a poignant part of my journey because I was able to discover myself as an adult, work in both music and medical fields, and travel the world interacting with the incredibly vast, varied, and amazing people of many cultures. After my time in the Navy, I went to graduate school for my doctorate in Physical Therapy. I completed a partial residency in neurologic rehabilitation but had to resign for my own health issues at the time. For all those years, I barely had any musical outlet, and my depression expanded to the worst it’s ever been. Formal counseling helped some, but returning to school for my masters in Film Composition was one of the main keys to finding my internal joy and light again. Since then, I’ve created my own path, balancing full time physical therapy work with mostly full time music work through various freelance and individual projects.
I’m not sure how common it is to say, but as a creative, I often hate my previous projects after they’ve been released into the world. Impostor syndrome, sure. The sometimes crippling self doubt that it’s not good enough or I could have spent more time striving for perfection. But most importantly, my own personal growth. Some of my previous songs strongly reflect the person I was at that time, and maybe I don’t relate to that person anymore. Some of my previously released music utilized the skills and level of craft I had at the time, but I’ve continued to learn and grow and expand as a creative. And sometimes, the music was written for a project that wasn’t very meaningful for me, and thus, hearing it years later, is still not very meaningful. Even if a particular piece or song has reached some level of success.
This might be a shameless plug, but please allow me to share how my upcoming album, Songs of Feeling, draws from “my regular job.” I wanted to create a collection of songs that hopefully have the capacity to be poignant across a lifespan, not just a snapshot in time. I wanted to discuss and share many common but difficult experiences. Some songs were written as a way to reflect and process my journey, which includes the journey of others. Whether a song is written about my own or someone else’s experiences, they’re all based on the true stories of myself or those close to me. None of these were written for a film or a commercial pitch. Early in my professional songwriting career, there were many recommendations to “write universally without being too specific.” That makes sense if it’s a general piece of music that is to be used for many different purposes. But I feel that it also dilutes the meaning. As human beings, we relate to general themes, yes. But the ones that stay with us are those with specific details that deeply and truly relate to our own experiences. Not something vague.
It has been a privilege, and at times incredibly difficult, to work with patients and their families while preparing for death with a degenerative disease. Finding a way through the struggle and denial and grief of the surviving loved ones. As I’ve aged, it’s become more and more important to talk openly about personal and global issues to effect change. Sweeping issues under the rug is not helpful for finding solutions or providing assistance to those in need. We need to do better as a society to prevent the apparent decline of civility, and war. We need to do a better job in helping those with suicidal ideation, or abuse. And to bring a bit of levity to the album, there are, of course, a few love songs. But not themes related to young summer love, new lust and excitement, or “everything is perfect and dreamy.” It’s about learning that love has many ways to exist, successful relationships take constant work and growth, and only you can define what love is for you. And I’m so excited that my partner of 16 years wrote the lyrics and melody to one of the songs!
So, both careers influence the other. I’m a more creative physical therapist because of my life in music. I’m a more emotional musician and writer because of real life experiences. This album shares stories of my journey and meaningful interactions to this point, my life in places other than music, and the relationships I am eternally grateful to have shared. Even if fleeting, some of them have made an impact that I’ll carry with me forever. And as mentioned above, I hope some of these songs will have the capacity to remain poignant forever.
Anton, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?
Summarizing some of my previous answer, in music, I’m a studio singer, film composer, songwriter, and arranger. I took vocal, trumpet, and piano lessons as a youngster and through college, enjoying writing my own music instead of learning other standards (even through I did learn them), and slowly meandered my way through various life experiences, formal training, and connections to land where I am today.
I am a contract vocalist, mostly tenor and baritone. I compose original music, write songs, arrange existing charts, and orchestrate other’s compositions. I’m available for hire in all of these services, and have exceptional efficiency and time management attributes. Through balancing two interests and careers since 1996, and strengthened by Navy training, I greatly enjoy providing punctual, high quality, professional service.
As mentioned previously, I’m a Doctor of Physical Therapy and a board certified neurological clinical specialist. A neurologic clinical specialist (NCS) is a physical therapist with advanced training in neurological therapy and utilizes evidenced-based interventions to evaluate and treat individuals with movement difficulties due to an injury or disease of the nervous system. I still utilize my general physical therapy training with a strong focus in manual therapy, therapeutic exercise, and pain management as well. After working in hospitals for several years, I shifted to home health for increased flexibility and balance with my music career. I also provide remote services through Expy Health.
In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?
Enjoy (and pay for) art! Life without art is a dull and mundane experience. To elevate any experience, we use other senses (generally visual and auditory for music creation), but scent, touch, and taste are just as important. Whether you go to a live show, buy a record or painting, or enjoy music/TV/film from the comfort of your own home, someone created that enjoyment. And most likely, that someone went to a school (often specialized) to learn and grow that creative craft. Like anyone else with a “regular job,” creatives need to be paid for the work they do, and the joy they bring to the world!
Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?
Music literally saved my life. I enlisted in the Navy four months before graduating college because I couldn’t decide whether to go to grad school for music composition or physical therapy. I was also struggling with being a closeted gay man growing up in the midwest. So, I enlisted under the SEAL contract, trying to stave off my inner struggle by doing the most badass thing I could think of. Bad idea, to say the least. I was truly in the best shape of my life, liked the adventure and personal/team challenge aspects, but as my ship out day drew closer, I realized I’d never be able to take someone’s life. And I couldn’t fathom ever wanting to. It was getting late in the summer of 2007, and time was running out. When I talked to my recruiter, he stated that since I was within 30 days of shipping out, I couldn’t drop my contract, could’t switch jobs, and legally had to show up or face charges. I consulted my trumpet instructor, and he recommended contacting the Navy Band Program. In my panic, I’d completely forgotten about it.
With three weeks to go, I called the band in Great Lakes, IL since that’s where I’d be headed for bootcamp. Their leading chief petty officer expressed sympathy for my situation, but said there was nothing we could do before reporting to boot camp because I needed to audition before earning a musician contract, and it had to be before the 30-day mark. As my heart fell, he laid out a very risky, very slim-chance plan to try to switch to the band.
Step 1:
August 29, 2007: Report to boot camp as required.
He told me to ask every single person I encountered if I could be placed in a 900 division where all the musicians with contacts are placed. There, I might be able to audition. In the midst of hundreds of recruits arriving at the airport, bus ride to base, and corralling in holding areas all through the night, waiting to be placed in a division, I asked every person I saw. I got yelled at or teased by every single one of them (imagine all the ridiculous band slurs most musicians have heard at some point). Disheartening to say the least. But I kept at it. Until finally, at 3:30am, there were enough recruits with special forces contracts to form a full division. Since I had the contract, I had to go.
Step 2:
If step 1 didn’t work, wait until week 3 of training when we’d be allowed to drop our contracts, then wait until week 5 when we could choose another position.
Here’s the caveat: I still wouldn’t be able to join the band, since I hadn’t auditioned. The chief’s recommendation was to choose hospital corpsman (aka medic), since their training command was near the band in Great Lakes, and it was somewhat close to my second interest in physical therapy. So, in mid-September, I dropped my SEAL contract (after meeting many wonderful people, some of whom I’m still in contact with), got booted to another division, and waited. Every day, we’d train and clean and train and clean and train. In both divisions, we were allowed to talk while cleaning, so I’d sing, practice lip buzzing to keep my trumpet chops in shape, and draw staves in my recruit notebook so I could keep composing. Even though I’m not very religious, on Sundays I went to church so I could play trumpet in one service and sing in another. My drill instructors in both divisions took a liking to me for some reason, and occasionally escorted me around to other divisions to sing for them. This was such a wonderful opportunity to break the rigmarole, keep up my performance chops, and raise morale for us all. Early October, the 5th week, I received new orders to be a hospital corpsman.
Step 3:
Once I report to corpsman training, get permission to visit the band for an audition.
It was early November now, and the slogan “hurry up and wait” became even more apparent. In bootcamp, there was a lot of that, but we were all in it together. The first 4 weeks of corps school involved no schooling. Just waiting. And waiting. Waiting to have enough personnel to form several complete classes for an adequately sized graduating class. So again, after each morning muster in formation, we cleaned. And I sang. I got my trumpet back and started playing again. The 2nd week I got permission from my temporary division commander to visit the band over lunch. I finally met the leading chief petty officer who’d assisted in navigating this turbulent stream. He asked if I was planning on auditioning for trumpet or voice. I was interested in both, but I felt my trumpet chops weren’t back up to snuff yet, and I didn’t want to wait too long to audition lest I class up and had to stay in corps school. So I chose a vocal audition. He had me meet with their vocalist the next week to make sure I could actually sing and read music. She was thoroughly impressed. The 4th week I got an audition.
But the 5th week, I classed up. This meant I had a new commanding chief who did not acknowledge the audition. Essentially, he said “you’re here to be a corpsman, not a musician.” And he was right. But I’d come so far and gone through so much to even have a chance at keeping music my primary focus, I wasn’t ready to give up. In a somewhat breach of protocol, I recounted everything up to this point, the struggle it’d been, and how much it meant for me to even have an audition. He made me a deal: if I aced my first exam, I’d be granted permission to audition. It had to restrain myself from jumping for joy in his office! The first exam was basic anatomy and physiology: something I had already surpassed through my major in college. I aced it! And was allowed to audition!
Step 4:
Get orders for the band!
But in reality, there was a major hiccup. Before getting orders to be a musician, I first had to drop out of corps school. I was the top of my class and had met more wonderful people (some of whom I’m still in regular contact with today), but could not hold two sets of orders. So I resigned. With a lot of parting tears from my classmates, I was sent to a Transient Personnel Unit across the base.
Despite slogans for an expeditious and professional transition experience, TPU felt like purgatory. Other training commands have somewhat nice rooms, locks on doors, and let you set up personal things. In TPU, I had to keep all of my belongings triple locked in two bags because there were no locks on doors, no lockers, and theft was highly common. People often spent the whole day cleaning the same spot just outside their room door to keep an eye on their possessions. And here, the staff treated everyone like f**k-ups and failures, because unfortunately, a lot of folks were. Some had navy or criminal charges against them and needed to be prosecuted and discharged. Some had failed out of their respective programs and either had the option to find another or discharge. Some had medical or psychological issues that were missed during entrance screening and needed to be discharged.
I was the only one of the 300 sailors in that building who had dropped a program of his own volition in order to receive approved orders. I tried to explain this to the commanding officer, who promptly dismissed my information as hearsay, saying that everyone passing through his doors told lies to try to get out of it. I respectfully asked him or his staff to please contact the detailer (assigns jobs, orders, etc) in Millington to confirm my case. He was infuriated with my obstinance and made sure I was assigned to the meanest, toughest chief.
Again, we cleaned all day. We also had twice weekly meetings with folks who were in the same duration week at TPU, providing career counseling. My chief and the commanding officer still didn’t believe I was waiting for musician orders. I spoke with the detailer in Millington every day and he assured me it was going to happen, the paperwork was just slow. It helped, but didn’t stop the steamroller of typical TPU duties and schedules. Each day I waited, my name rose higher up the list of sailors scheduled to visit the career office. There, we’d be given orders for whatever job was available. Each day we cleaned, got yelled at, and kept watch over our personal belongings.
Early in the second week, my chief approached me at lunch and said he’d gotten a fax from Millington. It said my orders terminating my hospital corpsman contact had been processed and could now proceed to write musician orders. Just like that, the meanest, toughest chief was on my side. But, he said, since I was still unassigned, I was obligated to go to the career center when my name came up. He hoped my music orders would arrive before then, but had never had a case like mine and wasn’t sure what the outcome would be. Back to waiting, cleaning, watching.
Thursday morning of my second week at TPU, I was rounded up with a group of others after muster and told we would be escorted to the career center at 1300 after cleaning and lunch. My heart fell as my stomach leapt out of my throat. My chief said he still hadn’t heard anything, and the previous day, the detailer said they were just finishing the documents. I went back upstairs, tried not to have a panic attack, and scrubbed the same spot on the floor outside my door for almost two hours.
Suddenly, a pair of sparkling black shoes appeared in my field of vision. I looked up to see the commanding officer holding a piece of paper. His typical scowl was gone, his eyes actually showed some tenderness, and my consternation began fading away. “I want to apologize to you,” he said. “You have to understand that everyone that comes through here has a story to tell, most of them false. I was wrong about you.”
He shook my hand, gave me my orders to Little Creek, and walked away.
It was February 2008.
Step 5:
Become a Navy Musician.
All fleet musicians generally have to spend 6 months at the Navy School of Music, but after 3 months I tested and performed at a high enough level to graduate early. With orders in hand, I reported to the Pacific Fleet Band in Pearl Harbor, HI, and spent the next 4 years sharing music around the world!
Contact Info:
- Website: http://www.antondupreezmusic.com
- Instagram: @antondupreezmusic
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/antondupreezmusic/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/anton-du-preez-368aa03a/
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCtSfk_2tNWNxqMhwAEWlIAw
- Other: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm9851976/
Image Credits
Photo by Steven Miller
Photo by Steven Miller
Photo by Steven Miller
Photo by Steven Miller
Photo by Dennis Swinford
Seattle Symphony: Celebrate Asia (2017). Photo by Brandon Patoc