Andrew Samalin
Music, investments; it”™s all about numbers.
When you compose a musical arrangement there”™s a direct parallel to portfolio construction. Huh? Sounds like baloney, but that”™s how it works in Andrew Samalin”™s mind.
Samalin was an asset manager with Wachovia Securities in White Plains until recently when he started his own business, Samalin Investment Counsel in Mount Kisco, where he manages $100 million for his clients.
Both music and investments co-exist in Samalin”™s world. They have for a long time. Even back at Lakeland High School in Shrub Oak he was in orchestra and rock bands and also the class treasurer. His junior prom was much better than the seniors”™ dance, he claims, because he had the idea of holding a bagel sale to enrichen the class treasury, which in turn enabled his classmates to hold a nicer prom.
When he tried to mix music and business in college, things didn”™t work out. After a year at Berklee College of Music in Boston, Samalin had an epiphany. “I was never in music for business. I loved business for business”™ sake.”
Off he went to New York University, where he earned a bachelor”™s degree in business and music.
Music entered his life as a youngster in Yorktown in a surprising way. One night he was dispatched to have dinner at the Goldsteins next door as his parents ran errands. When he returned there was a used baby grand piano in the living room. His parents recognized some innate talent in their young son, or “maybe mom just wanted a piano in the living room.”
Whatever the reason, Samalin took to the instrument. His parents”™ signed him up for lessons. In high school he joined garage bands, the keyboards providing the ruse to meet ”“ who else ”“ girls.
By his own admission Samalin has been noodling around since the ninth grade. That”™s noodling as in creating his own compositions; maybe starting with an established musical piece and then adding his own notes and dimension. He says he rarely writes his work down, rather committing it to memory.
“Music is never finished; there”™s always a subtle dissatisfaction,” he says. “A piece is never done, unless it”™s the Beatles.”
He sits down in his Amawalk home and explores various avenues, not knowing when to finish. “It”™s a curse. Damn you 88 keys!” he says in mock anger.
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While sheet music helps with the basics and the mechanics, Samalin likes to relax without the printed note. He learned improvisation and composing with a jingle writer he worked for when he was a junior at NYU. While he was primarily a “schlepper and flunky,” his name appeared as assistant composer on several jingles that were written for national advertisers such as American Airlines and Hardees. It enabled him to receive residual checks in the staggering amount of $84.70.
Today he plays for his own stress relief and the enjoyment of his wife, Gina, 14-month-old son, Matthew, and Winston, a yellow English lab. Young Matthew will often hop up on his lap and bang away his own composition. A run of the keys by Samalin will elicit a howl from Winston.
Samalin has a Yamaha baby grand disklavier that allows him to play alone, accompany Frank Sinatra or maybe just listen to a CD and watch the piano”™s keys rise and fall to the music.
It”™s a beautiful piece of technology that has a built-in sound system ”“ a far-cry from the old player pianos that used rolls of perforated paper to supply the music.
But even without the extras, Samalin seems at peace when he sits down to play a personal composition for a guest.
It”™s unstructured; hearing the tones, the reverberation of wood and steel strings.
“Nothing else exists out there.”
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