Niels' Artist Spotlight
When my partner suggested that we could move to Australia back in 2019, as a performing artist, it wasn't a given.
When you have a very active career in Europe, it's not a given to simply pack everything up and go to Australia, because worldwide, a lot of people believe that performing arts is far stronger in Europe than it is in Australia.
But, I've been coming to Australia as a guest and guest artist for about 15 years, and at first I was convinced that performing arts was way better in Europe than it was in Australia.
But, every single time I visited Australia, I got to do concerts. I got to meet fellow artists, and I got to do masterclasses. Every time I went, I met new young university students who were dead set on starting a performing career in Australia.
So everybody says, "Performing arts in Australia is very precarious. It's very hard." And every year I went to Australia there were more people saying, "I don't care how hard it is. I really want this." And then I realized, performing arts is not about society creating. You need to have a certain drive.
And if a society like Australia overall says, "Sports is way more important than performing arts, and you shouldn't perform. Or if you do performing arts, have a backup plan," and young people still decide to go into performing arts, I actually am intrigued.
So when my partner said, "Let's move to Melbourne," I started packing before she did. Because I said, "If that means that I can work with people who are almost insanely motivated to make a professional performing arts career work, I would really like to be part of that. It's actually very inspiring."
I am very much always looking for opportunity and creating things, and I've been doing that for about 25 years in the Netherlands. I already did so much, at a certain point I also realized what I was trying to do is always something that I'd already done before. So, at the age of 48, I was ready for a challenge.
So yeah, at 48, I just packed my bags and we had no plan. I had no job. My partner had no job, and we just left for Australia and started. I'd say started a new career, but we started pretty much in lockdown, and then, after lockdown, I just worked really hard.
I remember that at the beginning of the second week of December 2022, I looked at my diary, and I saw that that week I had nothing on. I got a bit down and I looked at my partner and I said, "I think I'm failing. I think it's not working. I'm trying to build something. But look, my diary is empty."
And my partner laughed, looked at me, and said, "Before I'm going to talk to you about this, can you do me a favor and go to your website. Go to the page with all the concerts, and count the concerts."
And I did. And then I realized, oh dear, I've actually done 52 projects and concerts that year, and it was only the beginning of December. So you say, "How do you do it?" I don't know. I just do.
When I look at my diary and I see a complete empty week in front of me, I get a bit—not nervous—but I get a bit of an itch.
I just like doing stuff, and I feel that every single weekend that I'm not out on stage playing a cool concert is a bit of a miss.
I love playing. I love performing. I love creating community. I love creating opportunity for other people to play. So, the reason why I decided to start a concert band in the region where I live now is simply because 3 months ago a friend of mine said, "You know, there's never been a concert band here. Why don't you start a concert band?"
And I thought, "Oh, dude, I'm really busy." But, then I drove home and I thought, "I can't really find a reason not to do it."
I live in a region where music education has taken a serious nosedive, and suddenly I realize there's loads and loads of parents who want to send their kids to something to do with music.
And when they're interested in woodwind, like clarinet, flute, and saxophone, there was nowhere for that to go, so I just thought, "I'll start a concert band."
And now I have a junior band. I've got a senior band. I've got a saxophone ensemble, but the joy is, I've got people in my band—adults—who came to me and said, "I've been waiting for this opportunity for more than 15 years."
I work a lot, but when someone comes to me and says, "Oh my God, I've wanted to do this for 15 years. Thank you for organizing it," that's enough payment. That just gives me enough energy to do it for another 5 to 10 years.
And it's not that much work. Because when you want to start a band, what do you need? You need a rehearsal room, and you need to tell people that you're starting a band, and then you need to get some music, and that's it.
I am in a very fortunate position. I am over privileged that I moved to the other side of the world 5 years ago, and I had an opportunity to start over, and I had nothing.
The only thing I had was a roof over my head. It's not nothing but I had no career, no expectations. No nothing. No one was asking me to do anything. And then lockdown happened. In Melbourne, lockdown was the mother of all lockdowns. We were inside for a year and a half.
So, I could have really come out of lockdown as an Uber driver, or a chef, or a native photographer.
And I gave myself a room to go, "Okay, you've done this music thing for 25 years. Now, maybe it's time for something else."
And then I sat still, and I sat still for a bit too long, and then I just started practicing and organizing. So, what is music to me? Apparently, music is what I do.
Even though I've always said, "If something were to happen to me and I can't play music, I'm not going to die of a horrible depression. There's so much more in life." But, if you give me free reign to do what I want, apparently, it's music.
So what is music for me? It's, apart from the people around me that I love, it is the one thing that I identify myself as: A saxophonist. A musician.
— Niels Bijl