All-time Unfavorites

#1. Schubert's Half-Finished Symphony - because of its dinky themes that go nowhere and end as soon as they begin; also for the bad memories of countless student performances, all out of tune. (Not excluding some non-student performances). Sharps seem to be bad keys in which to try to play in tune in.

#2. First movement of Mozart's 40th. It lumbers, meanders, and just recalls bad memories of out of tune plundering and rushing students. Fortunately, trumpets were never required to add to the problems.

#3. Almost all of the variations of Enigma. Three are still in favor, but probably just two.

#4. The cello movement of Carnival of the Animals, along with all the rest of them.

#5. Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. All you get is B and E, and all of our B's are sharp, or else they are too flat from over-correcting. The E's are also free-for-alls. Besides, the soloist always takes it way too seriously.

#6. All works with narrators.

#7. Stravinsky's Circus Polka. (a waste of a good composer)

#8. Second movement of Brandenburg.

#9. First movement of Organ Symphony.

#10. Radetsky March with hand-clapping accompaniment. Just once, let's have a new year's concert without this piece. If absolutely necessary, prepare the audience not to drag. Percussion section should be instructed to shoot all offenders on sight.

Busy but Empty

I heard this short summary of frenetic holiday events, and thought that it could well describe much of our daily trumpet practicing: "busy but empty!" Just as an abundance of activities doesn't define Christmas, so too a frantic flurry of practicing doesn't produce great performances. We'd certainly hate to hear the assessment of our music-making that I heard years ago. "You are spraying the air with thousands of notes of highly questionable value, somewhat impressive, but not really usable. Nobody would buy them." I went home a bit deflated, but challenged at the same time.

The glitzy trimmings of Christmas celebrations can appeal outwardly, but only serve to hide the emptiness that often haunts us and even overwhelms us as soon as the last bowl game becomes history. How strange that the Lord Jesus Christ, the very center of the holiday, is often the most neglected Person in season and out. Maybe it's a stretch to link holiday festivities to poor practice habits, but musicians have been known to think in stranger ways, if at all.

Christmas is about God's intervening to claim those who were dead in trespasses and sins, completely unable to revive themselves. "For He hath made Him, who knew no sin, to be sin for us; that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him." (II Cor. 5:21) What an exchange! He has filled our emptiness with Himself. It is and always has been His work and not our own. This redemptive work of God has probably prompted our over-attention to all the externals in celebrating what He accomplished in the hearts of men.

The thought is pretty simple. Our misplaced attention on the outward has distracted us from seeing His Son, and the extent of His internal work, which lasts way beyond the lights, sales, and bowl games. My trumpet lesson back in the day was about learning to have a perspective on quality, depth, and a message to an audience. So while we can be quite busy, we are never empty, for "we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us." (II Cor. 4:7)

Our Forgotten Weapon

Not that this weapon is totally forgotten, but it is often neglected and not fully developed. Every profession is defined by certain necessary skills and abilities. Athletes must be athletic. Mathematicians must figure. Pilots fly. Bowlers roll. Managers manage. Politicians must know how to be vague, etc. So what about musicians that are hard of hearing? Very strange.

Take trumpeters. What do we do? Blow, finger, play high, play loud, play soft (if we must), play fast, play slow (if we must), blow, and blow some more. We take a breather, and then do it all over again. No wonder they stick us in the rear of the orchestra! We must do something to break out of our penalty box. We need more than the above to be competitive. It's a long way from the back of the stage to the solo spot up front. And it's a long way from the marching band to the recording studio. What's missing? That something is the skill of listening. Granted, a certain level of talent goes a long way.

We think of those obvious skills that identify trumpet players: confidence in those aggressive dominating passages; fearlessly blasting those fiery jolts of decibels right by the defenseless string players; and spraying the air full of rapid-fire triplet pellets over the heads of greatly annoyed woodwind players! Ah, the sheer joy of it!

But alas, necessary as all of that is, (after all, it is when we do our thing and do it well, that the audience realizes why they came) - yet those are not enough to do effective battle on the stage. Our secret weapon is sensitive listening. Like high rising antennas, it monitors all neighboring activity. Listening controls decibel levels. It governs balance. It adjusts intonation. It is tuned in to sound quality. Like sight, it operates peripherally. It makes us alert to rhythm, without which, good ensemble is guesswork. And it lets us focus during practice by allowing us to accurately copy the good, eliminate the bad and the ugly.

Discerning ears will enable us to greatly strengthen our other weapons. Without good hearing skills, we are hampered and hamstrung. Listening is our silent weapon, but when it is developed and utilized regularly, it is heard by all.

The Big Question

That's a very good question! I'm so glad you asked that! I love it when students really want to know the answer, (without prompting). The question? "What is an audition committee looking for in these excerpts?" Where do we start?

Preparing to compete for a high-paying job obviously requires a lot more attention than just running through a short list of popular excerpts for a class assignment. Call it getting ready for zero mistake tolerance in front of a very discerning audience. When students come to the point of being serious about preparing for job competition, not just getting through it for experience sake, but with the expectation of nailing it, then reality is at the door. It may be that reality is facing up to the fact that another field would be a better and wiser pursuit. Often however, the question says, I think I can do this. Show me what still needs to be polished. I'm ready to work. Let's go for it!

The result is often amazing. The ears begin to open and practicing becomes much more focused. The grid of competing tends to quickly filter out student-like mistakes. Rhythm, intonation, and dynamics begin to become our weapons rather than nagging duties on a dry checklist. We simply must have these skills, and it becomes a welcome challenge to perfect them.

Running the risk of over-simplifying the needs of good audition prep, I will just pass on advice shared by some who have been very successful at this. Before the performing must come the discipline. You need your tuner, your metronome, and your decibel meter. Put them on the stand and obey them. Over ninety percent of your work can be prepared with the diligent use of these devices, especially the first two. They will insist that you perfect those basics of the music. The machines will hone rhythm, dynamics and intonation which are musicians' tools. And what good is a musician without his tools?!

Building Sky Scrapers

O.K., your piccolo has been basically a dust collector in that huge bag o' horns which you've been lugging about campus for a long time. Now it's time to take it out and get it ready for daily use. A thorough cleaning is always good starting therapy. There is something about a clean horn that is positive, sort of like the new beginning on January 1st.

Next, with valves and slides working you're ready for the laying of some good sound foundations. Nice and easy notes below and in the staff must become your automatic, secure, home territory. You will depend upon those great basic low and mid range notes as you launch slowly upwards.

Noodle around in that safe range, and don't stray! Make good friends with all of the notes in that range. Rest often, and return again to your safe haven. Stay low and don't try to get high! Blow straight into the mouthpiece, no over-biting. Keep it natural. While you're at it, play in tune. The audience doesn't care that it's a piccolo. You will have to match the organ, strings, and others who will support you. Clear tone, good intonation, and no squeezing, at least not yet.

Gradually extend the range to C or D only. Up and down with scales, Clarke patterns, little harmless melodies, NO BACH. Rest often. Your goal: easy release of air, total control of attacks, sound, entrances and intonation. Insist on all of these. A weak foundation will create problems for the upper floors.

Try to look like it's not a big deal. A deadpan approach is the plan. Great sound, very little work. The work will come later. We want to postpone the work for way up there, not down here. Support well, but don't over-support. Just flow the air through as easily as possible. Blow without the trumpet, then copy that.

Your foundation shouldn't take much time to lay. You already know how to play. Just secure the bottom of the structure. Soon your building will be noticed from afar. For now, you plug away at ground level. Add a brick at a time, a note every few days, no spikes. Put on your hard hat and get to work. Actually, think of it as your easy hat. Soon it will be your high hat.

The Ultimate Trumpet Teacher

Are great trumpet players born, or do they acquire their skills? If so, where? What city, what school, and who are their teachers? What is the magic formula, the secret button, or the special equipment? How does fame happen?

Maybe it's the environment. It is said that being around greatness breeds greatness, and skills can be absorbed by osmosis. Take enough lessons, attend enough concerts, and travel to every brass conference, and then maybe it will all come together. Or, I know. It must be intense and careful listening that eventually sends fabulous notes soaring out the bell. Or is it the incredible amounts of practicing? Is it all or non of the above? Either talent is there or it isn't. Which is it?

My high school guidance counselor suggested that I ask my trumpet teacher if he thought I should go into music, and if I was good enough to pursue it. The reply from my teacher, "You go tell your guidance counselor that nobody can determine that. It is up to you how much you want to make of it. And further more, he said, it's not where you go (to college), but how inspired you are to work hard.

Wherever you go, there you are. You take your abilities, dreams, and determination with you. The best university music department cannot guarantee your success. And the loneliest uninspiring location cannot hold back one who is bent on developing great musical instincts. So the externals can prompt and stir creative juices, but it is that which lies within that determines our course.

When it comes right down to identifying the greatest influence on our musical journey, it is the player himself who must ultimately be his own best teacher. There are only so many hours of lessons one can take. Teachers can only hold our hands for so long, and then we are left to ourselves. The hours we spend alone with the trumpet far exceed all other stimuli. The successful player is the one who soon learns to instruct himself, and who is able to maintain his motivation. The training wheels are eventually removed, and we must confidently ride alone. Some learn this quickly. Others catch on in time, but some never learn.

The good news is in recalling all the instructions we've received and the wealth of how-to information available. Vacchiano used to say, "Nowadays we trumpet players know too much to make a mistake." Our job is to put to practice all we've learned, and begin to implement it into our playing.

Polishing

There is some very fine playing happening with CCM trumpet students lately. Solos, orchestral work, and small ensembles can be heard, as well as the daily grind of etudes, scales, and arpeggios. With recital season starting up after the holidays, there will be plenty of must-hear performances. Breaks are never really breaks when huge requirements lurk on the other side of vacation, so no one will be straying too far from the horn.

As pieces are starting to take shape, I was reminded of the simple requirements we have as performers. You can count on one hand the elements that need to be there for a successful performance. Of course there is good pitch, sound quality, musical phrasing, dynamic interest, steady tempos, and the right sense of style. But if you could only practice one thing, what would it be? I say start with producing a bunch of clean, polished, nice-sounding notes. In fact, forget the bunch, and start with just a few great-sounding notes.

Now attach a junk-note filter to your bell so that nothing bad can get out. Actually, that filter should be clipped onto your mouthpiece so that nothing bad gets in! No, in reality it begins before that, in your brain. That's where those great notes must start. Great music begins well before it is heard. Then you have something to play.

The next step is to slow the music way down, and listen. No bumps or stuffy notes are allowed. Insist on preparing each note for recording. Get it smooth, in tune and listenable and it will sell. A bunch of junk won't.

Audition committees are looking for a few good players. If you can get used to producing quality with small assignments, you'll have a good chance at the same success with larger ones. It begins by polishing one note at a time.

When the Sky Falls

What is it about trumpet playing that it can be so very, very good one day, and so very, very bad the next day? Or at least it feels that way. If I had the answer to that universal brass stumper, I could retire and make millions. I've got the retired part. Now for a stab at an answer, and then the millions.

When life is good behind the mouthpiece, heaven surely must be smiling too. But when the chops rebel and send up the retreat flag, it seems as if the sky is falling and there is no place to run for help. We sit staring at the music stand with a beat up embouchure while those pages of music glare back at us unsympathetically. In just one day the joy of playing can quickly turn into worry over even being able to get the notes. Because injuries happen, major and minor, learning from them is vital.

Two things to consider. One is the I-told-you-so review of what brought on the problem. Some abuse must have been going on the day(s) before. Examination should include a careful look at the warm up, adherence to basic correct playing, the hours on the face, and the general approach. Probably in the heat of the musical battles there was little or no attention paid to good fundamentals. I remember how much fun it was blasting away in our high school marching band. It was great to be able to contribute to the thrills on the field, but having swollen lips for the next three days was no fun all. All the adrenaline and inspiration in the world is no protection from injury. In fact, too much of it is most likely the problem. The tendency to overdo it when everything seems to be working is usually the main cause of injury.

Just as important as seeing what went wrong is organizing what to do to avoid repeated damage. A couple of suggestions learned the hard way: stop when it feels good; rest often; relax hands and upper body; don't give 110% so often; eliminate lip dominance by making something else take the majority of the workload; and avoid stoppage of air at the lips. Strive for less quantity, and more quality. Balance loud with lots of soft, and always play with tomorrow in mind. Supply and demand is the rule for air flow. Air is our fuel for the journey. We don't want to get stranded.

A stoic mind-over-matter approach needs to be wisely balanced with taking good care of your equipment. The lips must be able to produce not just for one big concert, but for a whole career. Fortunately, the body heals in time, and those storm clouds eventually get blown away.

Working Less

Many times it felt like we were racing past scenery at break neck speeds, muscling through Arban characteristics, plowing ahead on Sachse transpositions, and heroically taking on Haydn, Hummel, Hindemith, or whatever solo we could get our chops on. Life was fun. We played all day, went to dinner, and came back for more punishment! Youth and inspiration is a great combination.

"What do you want to hear today? I can play anything." That was the mindset for those early years as we students elbowed our way past each other out of school and into jobhood. It was mind over chops and passion over patience. I'm reminded of the famous line in that old Cagney movie? - "Look at me, Ma, I'm on top of the world!" Never mind that in the very next scene he crashed and burned.

Like young Cagney, most students could use a healthy dose of that conquering attitude. A daily purpose-driven agenda is a must for any student attempting to someday shed that label. But there soon comes a time when the student discovers that his chops can't lick the world forever. One of my teachers claimed that those Julliard trumpet heroes could sound just as good as any pro, but only on their good days. The pro understands pacing, efficiency and reliability. Trumpet playing is about sounding good tomorrow too. For survival there needs to be a transition to maturity in a hurry, and the sooner the better.

A few quick thoughts on achieving long-lived dependability: Try to stay fresh, and don't burn out every time you practice. Don't be sweating everything. There's always plenty of sweaty passages in every performance. Reduce excessive embouchure movements. Avoid chewing notes. Keep any motion minimal and internal. Upper body should be as relaxed as possible, including fingers, hands, arms, shoulders, even eyebrows. Rest more often than you want. Simulate life on the stage. Hot licks must be ready, but they are usually kept on hold for long periods of time.

Air circulation must be natural and sufficient for what's required. I have an old profile picture of Herseth playing. I call it "breathing for dummies." It has an arrow beginning deep in his lungs, proceeding up through his throat, out the embouchure and into the lead pipe. It is a simple illustration on how to blow the trumpet. You take a breath, and then you release it into the instrument! Why do we make it so difficult?! So often we compress the air and cause a bottleneck at the lips, and then we wonder why tension comes out.

Our goal: sound great and work less.

Conquering the Disease

Ever hear of that hidden disease that can thrive for years in musicians' brains? It can become well entrenched in time, and very cleverly avoids detection by its carrier. The smoke screen is, "Don't think too much or you'll come down with an acute case of paralysis-through-analysis." We soon become convinced that trying to perfect minute details is a waste of time. Too much attention to all of those tiny specifics just might kill the spirit of our performance. Don't distract me with things I don't hear. Besides, it takes time and it's fatiguing. I'm just going to breathe, blow, and try to get through it, we claim.

Some truth lies in that argument. After all, the big picture is our concept of the forest, not the leaves. Maybe the don't-bother-me-with-details approach works for the one-in-a-thousand who is so gifted and instinctive that he never needs to work out problems. But it's likely that such a cavalier nonchalant trumpet player never existed, although we are supposed to convince ourselves and the audience otherwise. Carefree playing demands a lot of careful work.

To think that great trumpet playing will just eventually happen is like thinking that skyscrapers will just appear. Every polished product was first a work in progress. The building of a Petroushka, a Pictures, or a Mahler 5 is like a construction job site. Every piece must be cut, crafted, and fitted exactly according to the blue-print. Enjoying the finished product depends upon precision. Quality control must happen at all stages en route to performance. Everywhere you turn, labor over details happened. The building of effortless, accurate trumpet playing doesn't develop over night. Each facet takes time, and requires the effort of a detail guy, you.

Assembling a nice ballerina's dance requires that each phrase be perfected. It is possible. There aren't that many notes, only 163 to be exact. We just lack the mindset to break it apart, clean it up, and begin the slow process of putting it together. If hard-hat guys in construction can do it, why can't trumpet players?

The Tie-Breaker

Mock trumpet auditions today at CCM. Four competitors played Leonore 3, Pictures, Scheherazade, Academic, Mahler 5, and Petroushka, six must-haves needed to advance to round two. There was some fine playing by each one. Written and spoken critiques followed, along with the desire to get another shot at it, which is a good sign. Another couple of at-bats, odds are, will produce a hit or two, maybe even a home run. And that's the point, learning to belt out a lot of hits under pressure.

Lessons learned: need for control in spite of nerves, accuracy, steady rhythm, clarity of articulation, intonation, control of dynamic extremes, ability to make an impression, and the rest of the usual list of things that all of us always need to work on. Nobody plays perfectly, and it's nice to remember that everyone is in the same boat. However, the struggle is to see who can get out of the boat first! First one out wins!

A review in the Enquirer of last week's Chicago Symphony concert had a few phrases that caught my attention. There were some high praises for the principal cello solo as well as a comment about the oboe playing that seemed to be just what we were discussing briefly in our mock auditions today. It was said that the cello solo showed "immense sweetness of tone and warmth of expression", causing the piano soloist "to grin from ear to ear the whole time." About the oboe: "it was the most relaxed lyrical oboe solo ever heard."

Now of course, nobody expects trumpet playing to be only about lovely, relaxed lyricism. We must have our killer-instinct helmets ready for battle on a moment's notice. By the way, isn't it interesting that composers usually depend on those in the rear of the orchestra when those visceral statements are required? Maybe the demands on the brass are greater than those of our woodwind and string colleagues as far as extremes are concerned. But, even in those high decibel visceral climaxes, there must be a core of enormous quality of sound. Regardless of dynamics, that sound must be noticed by critics and be able to make headlines in concert reviews.

It's difficult to pinpoint one single quality that wins auditions. But maybe high on the list would be sound and the ability to make an impression on the listeners that distinguishes the best candidate from the rest. Most will make mistakes, but the one who is accurate and sends the best overall message has the best chance of winning. Quality is that tie-breaker.

Dealing with the Monster

Whatever your career passion, be it music, business, sports, you name it . . . there can come a price to pay for total immersion. The rush of saturating ourselves in the fast lane on a one track pursuit can dead end us in a place we never saw coming. That thirst for success and recognition can become the monster that consumes us.

Witness Peanuts comic strip writer Charles Schultz. Life seemed perfect back in the early 60's, made to order. His family enjoyed an idyllic homeland with all the country surroundings one could dream of, the fruits of intoxicating success. Seeds were being sown however - seeds of his family taking last place so that the all-consuming career could continue to prosper. Success grows and has its way of demanding more and more time and energy. It never seems to retreat. How does one say no to the next grand opportunity? It becomes natural to escape family responsibilities in order to give attention to what got them there.

But fast forward 30 or 40 years and that happy home is history. To say that the business flourished is understatement. Peanuts had given him all the world could offer, but at the price of shattered relationships within his own family. Acknowledging even himself that the career never satisfied, Schultz's last days were spent with tragic questions about life, its purpose and its worth. He said he felt like he was Charlie Brown and never got to kick the football. Someone had always managed to pull the ball away at the last minute while he flew head over heels and crashed.

In our drive to do well, even to excel, it is vital to step away often, to see what and who is ultimately most important. Balance is the over-simplified answer, easy to say, hard to remember, especially in the daily pursuit of our God-given talents and abilities. How much more successful and happy would be the man who excels as much with his own family as in his work. What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world and looses his own soul, and his own family?

Absorbing Great Music

Remember the most recent music that grabbed your attention and wouldn't let go for days? Was it Mahler, Strauss, a Mozart opera, or Phantom of the Opera? Everyone has his own top ten list. James Levine warned us as students before an all-star cast performance of Don Carlo, that it would be a long time before show highs would subside, if ever. He said, "Enjoy this. You'll be walking on air for days." He was right. Hearing those arias to this day still pierce like a knife. Music does that, probably better than anything else.

I can still hear Mel Broiles demonstrating Caffarelli etude #66 transposed to D trumpet, boldly echoing all over Lincoln Center from an open window at the Met. Our brains archive thousands of files of great playing. How is your library? I wonder if there are more instances of great music happening every day than we realize. Be alert for them, and file them safely. You'll be needing to recall them often.

Yesterday the majestic strains of Fanfare for the Common Man could be heard echoing down the corridors at CCM. Today I paused to hear a performance of a Brahms Violin Sonata filling the Atrium. Last week a Charlier etude was being practiced for all it is worth while overlooking Lake Michigan. Five trumpets could be heard being coached through The Rite of Spring by Charlie Geyer. Next door the Rhapsodie Espagnol trumpet section was being rehearsed by Chris Martin. So much to hear, so little time!

Great music has its way of adhering itself both to listeners and performers. Extra special musical moments always leave lasting impressions. Seek them out. They are there waiting to be discovered and to be shared. Audiences love when that happens.

Picturing Entrances

C.S.O. trumpet colleague Doug Lindsay offers a great improvement on an Arban book term that probably has contributed to the stuttering and bungling of trumpet entrances for decades! He points out that the word "attack" of the note could well be replaced with "release" of the air. Brilliant! We subconsciously picture attacking entrances rather than a timed release of air onto them, a much more natural function. Attacking notes makes us think of explosive bursts of air, while releasing air gives us greater control for a variety of articulations. Finesse is possible in "release" whereas clubbing happens with "attack".

Not that clubbing doesn't have a large place in the arsenal of brass weaponry. But the point is how to control entrances with the greatest of ease. We've got the odds stacked against us when we consider how imperceptibly the violins can sneak in, and how unnoticed the woodwind players can ooze into their notes. Trumpet entrances are not so easy. Ever notice how the violin players can float the bow quickly over the strings (flautando), and yet still play very softly? A good visual for our fluid air movement even in pianissimo. Some thoughts, or images to think on while doing nothing:

Think of heavy aircraft landing on the runway without skidding and burning too much rubber, a graceful landing without bumps. Note also the small downward drop compared to the great forward thrust. Or how about pushing a child on a swing? No jerks, just smooth in-rhythm gentle shoves. Take bowling - an athletic windup followed by the silent release of the ball on the wood floor with no thuds or bounces. Like the plane, the main direction is forward, not downward. Or for those of you seniors, think lawn bowling, or boccie - old guys slowly rolling a not-so-heavy ball only a short distance. Then there is shuffleboard. Who in his right mind would think of striking the disc instead of giving it a smooth forward push?

More sports: think about the quarterback rather than the batter. Why? One releases the ball while the other hits for a living. Trumpet players must be able to do both. I wonder if our terminology needs some adjusting, our mental pictures more focus, and our practice habits greater efficiency. We need more forward-directed air, and a less percussive tongue. The tongue focuses, but it is the air that fuels the notes regardless of speed. Let's perfect our air releases so that they match the many demands of the music. Attack the problem, not the note!

Control Freaks Wanted

Ever thought or yourself as being a control freak? Well, isn't that a good portion of our job description? The top orchestras are full of them. Audition committees covet them. Perfect control of our product is always the goal. It should be high on our priority list in daily practice, in every piece, in every phrase, and with every note. It includes pitch, rhythm and dynamics. Even spontaneity and flexibility of interpretation must be carefully disciplined.

By finals, all the out-of-control freaks are on their way home. Only the machines are left, and the most musical machine wins. And that is the next criterion: musical control freaks. The search is narrowed considerably by this point. Only a few seem to survive this rugged scrutiny, and only one gets the prize.

How did this amazing control get acquired? Did it get injected into the auditioner a week before the audition? How about that great musicianship? It obviously can't be suddenly ginned up. When did it start? Answer: long, long ago.

The good news: control is quite doable, but it must be a daily priority. In time, control becomes the norm, rather than luck. The odds increase for us when musicianship is nicely controlled and dependable. Life on the wicked stage becomes much less traumatic and natural. Great control of the basics produces freedom for the musical expression to flourish. Great playing isn't a freak of nature, but the wonderfully disciplined skill of a very valuable control freak.

Popular Mechanics

Alright class. The curriculum for this course focuses only on mechanics, physical and mental skills developed to a high level. All of you emoting romantic types need not register. (A few students quietly slink out the back door.) As I said, this quarter we want trench men, ditch diggers, and top athletes with a single focus: stamina and absolute control. Espressivo, cantabile and rubato are not part of this class description. Those will be included in other courses. If I see or hear of any of that stuff, you get expelled on the spot. Got it?

Now then, here are the tools you'll need immediately: a minidisc or the latest state-of-the-art recording devise, the loudest most obnoxious metronome in captivity, a decibel meter, and several breathing devices. You will also want to have a berp of some sort, that's a buzzing extension for you freshmen.

Once you have all of these, you will need to brush up on your algebra. I want you all thinking math. All problems solved with no errors. You get paid for right answers. You get docked for mistakes. I want the agility of football players adroitly scampering through the tires on the practice field, each with incredible footwork, wired instincts, and superhuman conditioning. Got it? Think basic training for the Marines, climbing walls, running marathons, etc. This is endurance, alertness, dependability and cat-like agility training in high gear. By the way, you'll need all parts of your brain to be actively involved. No wimps will survive.

Here is your assignment: Concone book - the easiest, slowest, softest and smoothest playing possible. Next, fermatas with dim. to pp. Then incredibly fast multiple tonguing. Impeccable rhythm is a must-have. Extreme register changes with the ability to turn on a dime. Computer-like sight-reading. Awesome extremes in dynamics all well under control. All entrances secure every time. And all of this with flawless intonation.

Our goal: incredibly clean, accurate trumpet playing. Clean players get a lot of attention in auditions. Call it control freaks, that's what we want. You will be popular mechanics. Any questions? Class dismissed. Get to work.

"We are what we practice."

The message sparkled right there at the top of the bulletin board, written with silver thumb tacks: "WE ARE WHAT WE PRACTICE". A student almost needn't unpack to play for his lesson. Just take some solemn minutes there while gazing at the writing on the wall. Think about it. What's the status of our musical health? What have we been taking in, and what kind of quality are we giving out?

I felt like the guy walking through the gallery in Pictures at an Exhibition. Everywhere you looked there was a story, a lesson, a song. You could almost hear it all. There was a pic of the Chicago brass section, complete with Phil Smith (with long hair), Charlie Geyer (with more hair), Will Scarlet (with less hair), and of course the master himself, along with all the other brass masters in Chicago for so many years. Everywhere a huge chunk of trumpet history, a quote, an historic program. If only the walls in the NU trumpet studios could talk, or play! But indeed the halls are still alive with music and brilliant teaching. No need to herald the success stories of their grads.

But I digress. The subject: practicing. At one point Barb Butler commanded a student: "When you wake up, the first thing is, When will I practice today? Organize the day for that priority, and structure the practice to cover all the items on the agenda." Not "just do it", but "you must do it". I laughed to myself, thinking: You will have fun whether you like it or not! Obviously, the students are getting the message and seem to be much enjoying the ride. That is what the audiences will pay for, and it all begins with practice.

The Value of Hate Practice

No, I'm not talking about hating to practice, or being so self-critical that we become disabled and stripped of confidence. The point of the simple comment offered at Northwestern by Charlie Geyer to a student was learning to be discerning in daily practice and not excusing a ton of bad notes. We think we are too hard on ourselves, but often the reverse is true. What we need to speed up the maturing process is to learn to recognize those same mistakes made day after day, AND then take the steps to solve them. He said, "If you hate it, you'll fix it." Before you can hate it, however, you have to hear it. (I didn't see anyone on campus without a minidisc.) That driven attitude is what I liked sensing.

Whatever the issue to be dealt with, the first step must be a fighting attitude. We need to play in tune, but first we must WANT to play in tune. We must CRAVE great intonation, and set out on a mission to get it. Or take soft attacks. We must learn to hate our own poor attack execution, AND enjoy the daily work needed to master that skill. Charlie recalled Herseth's great command of delicate entrances. What a way to learn, daily sitting within a few feet of text book examples! So many skills must be owned. The challenge is enjoying the challenge.

Let's practice being so annoyed with our high tolerance of our own unprofessional playing, that we become motivated to deal with problems effectively, one at a time, and once and for all.

Horn Player Adam Unsworth at CCM

With orchestra requirements today including ever growing amounts of pops repertoire, the skills of Adam Unsworth are treasures for any orchestra looking for someone who can do it all. As hard as it often is to get us stiff classical trumpeters to swing, even more rare is the swinging horn player. The mold was shattered, however, and the bar raised this week as Adam lectured, demonstrated and performed in concert and masterclass at CCM.

His impressive credentials include several major orchestras and now teaching responsibilities at Michigan. His double major on theory has proven practical as it forms the foundation for his jazz improv and secure technique. Scales of all kinds matter, as do arpeggios and chords of all sorts.

Most notable for me was his relaxed almost cool approach to the horn. Jazz or non jazz, it was effortless. As soon as air was released into the instrument, style emerged. Jazz is that creative, spontaneous, and freeing element that can be just the therapy we need, sort of like dessert after way too much broccoli! Someone once challenged Adam to end each day's practice with 20 minutes of fun. (Oh that we knew how to make that the agenda for the whole day!) Fun, that illusive ingredient for success and satisfaction! It's the fun part of playing that can open up sound, help flexibility, and free up one's approach. It also demands the kind of thinking and listening skills that can often be neglected by classical players.

I liked Adam's purpose-driven phrasing. Jazz has a way of demanding that of us, whereas it is easy just to plow into some excerpt or etude hoping to discover what we are supposed to do with it before we're done.

A teacher, Doug Hill, once asked Adam if he planned to "make a living or just have fun (with his jazz)." I'm thinking, "Why not both?" Obviously so was Adam.

Why Practice?

Another day, another warm-up, more scales and arpeggios, another bunch of etudes and assigned solos. Oh, and range extension, attacks, soft stuff, endurance, articulation work, and then off to rehearsals. Of course you must attend to your list of weaknesses, followed by sore chops, and tomorrow more of same. Soon we conclude, "what's the point?"

That is the mindset that we battle. So cumbersome and difficult is the journey at times that the reason for playing at all is often obscured, lost, or deemed no longer unattainable. Leave it to John Madden to bring us refreshing perspective on Sunday Night Football. "This team has yet to show that it can overcome adversity. And that is the mark of greatness." The goal line often seems so far away that many become sidelined, injured, and discouraged. Yet great players find a way to win.

For young musicians in pursuit of a career in music performance, the hardest challenge is learning to enjoy and manage hard work. Being able to function efficiently is the skill that separates the dreamers from the achievers. Those who succeed are not always the most talented but the hardest workers. They have disciplined themselves to break down problems and to work them out methodically.

The goal line is not just getting the big job. That's just the beginning. Obstacles are conquerable when the pursuit of winning is strong enough. Remember why you chose to do what you do, and rekindle the excitement that got you where you are. The wise student learns how to be disciplined, how to be inspired, and how to inspire others. It is all about learning to perform and liking the process. And that is our mission. With that in mind, why not practice!