To start, my parents gave me the name Jazz when I was born. I ask them, and still ask them today, why. They simply say, “We knew you’d play music.” Of course, when I was young, I didn’t think this was true at all. My dad was the one who played jazz music, and he would show me these incredible things. We would sit at a piano, and he’d pluck out complex, fully diminished seventh chord progressions with tritone substitutions, while I jammed out on a 12-tone version of “Hot Cross Buns.”
My mom, however, loved to listen to all kinds of music, from disco to rock to classical. She was a magnificent ballroom dancer, and to this day I still don’t fully understand what that entails. Even so, I felt it. I felt I needed to live up to my name.
In third grade, I was in band class, and it was time to choose the wand, or let the wand choose you. We tested a few instruments, and whoever was able to make a sound on them got to choose one as their primary. Granted, I grew up with five siblings, and we were all very competitive. I was determined to make a sound on every instrument. And I did, except the flute.
My teacher said, “It’s okay if you can’t play it. Just choose another one.” I was angry, fueled by my internal struggle for perfection and competition, and I wasn’t going to give up. So, I did what any rebellious seven-year-old would do and said, “No.”
From that moment on, I never wanted to be anything other than a Marine musician.
During my senior year of high school, I was approached by a Marine recruiter. He said there were spots available for flute and that he wanted to audition me. I was excited and scared at the same time, mainly because the guy was massive and intimidating. I didn’t think I was ready. I knew about military music programs since my mom had joined the Army when I was young, but I never thought joining the Marine Corps was possible.
I said to the recruiter, “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think I’m ready.” I wanted to go to college first, improve as much as I could, and then audition later.
Years passed, and I worked through my degree programs in college. To be honest, along the way, I lost sight of what I really wanted to do. What was I meant to do? We’re taught, molded, and shaped to be soloists. We’re guided to be the absolute best and to win contracts with top performing orchestras. As young musicians, we are told that the music world is extremely competitive and that we must stand out among a sea of extraordinary players.
It was overwhelming.
As I neared the end of my college career, I still had no idea what I wanted to do. I had to do some soul searching, reflecting on my past and what truly mattered to me. And then I realized something. After being in band all that time, I had never considered it as a career. I had completely forgotten about my meeting with the Marine recruiter back in high school, the one who told me there was an opportunity for me.
I could play music for a living? This was possible? Again, destiny is a weird thing.
I was approached by a colleague who had joined the Marine Corps after college. He told me to send in a couple of audition videos for a possible music job. I had no idea what it was for or what group I was auditioning for, but I sent them anyway. The people who reached out said they could arrange an in-person audition, so I went just to see.
It’s been six short years in this amazing organization, and I’ve never been more thankful. I’ve traveled throughout the United States and abroad, performed for distinguished generals, mentored our youth, and shared the love of music, all while serving our country.
If I were to leave you with one piece of advice, it would be a quote from the movie The Pursuit of Happiness (2006), “Don’t ever let somebody tell you, you can’t do something. Not even me.”
That doesn’t mean you should rebel and break all the rules to achieve success. It means you shouldn’t allow skeptics to project their limitations onto you. Say no to the naysayers who wish for your downfall. Your possibilities, and your capabilities, are infinite given the right mindset.
But keep this in mind, you are your own worst critic. You are your own naysayer and skeptic. And it is you who can prevent yourself from achieving your goals and dreams.
Don’t let that happen. And most importantly, never give up.
Destiny is a weird thing. It’s strange because it suggests life is an inevitable or predetermined course of events. But deep down, I believe destiny is the result of the choices you make. You create the path. You shape your reality.
A native of Orange County, California, Staff Sergeant Jazz Vu holds a Bachelor of Music in Instrumental Performance from California State University, Fullerton. His distinguished military career began with Marine Band San Diego during his initial enlistment. He currently serves with the 2d Marine Division Band at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina and has served on a combat deployment to Iraq, Kuwait, and Syria. He is the 2025 Staff Noncommissioned Officer Marine Musician of the Year.
