Trumpet Bushido

[WARNING: Some of this post gets extremely technical and is primarily written for trumpet players. This is the obligatory musical equipment post.]

“The word bushido, the way of the warrior, thus requires some explanation. Bushi was the original term for the upper-class warrior. The Chinese ideogram used for this word has two component parts whose joint meaning has been variously interpreted. In any case, it seems to be a designation, in the Chinese cultural mode, of an upper class that ruled by knowledge (learning) and military leadership. Both qualities were considered essential to the “superior man” in China as well as Japan. Bushi made its first appearance in Japan in the Shoku Nihongi (completed 797) in the following passage: “Again, the August Personage [emperor] said, ‘Literary men and warriors are they whom the nation values.’” The term bushido as a formalized definition of the proper modes of warrior character and behavior – sometimes defined as “loyalty, self-control, and equanimity” – came into use in the late sixteenth century just before the beginning of the Tokugawa peace era.

The term samurai – which later, and in our time, became the name almost exclusively used for man-at-arms – was first employed in the tenth century and designated the lower-class professional soldier employed by the government, but not the higher-level mounted warriors described in the Heike Monogatari. Gradually, over the centuries, however, as the social and political climate and the nature of the armed forces changed, the word samurai almost totally displaced bushi. By the Tokugawa era (1600-1867) – that of the uncontested rule of the shogun (supreme military commander) and his warrior cohorts and allies – “samurai” included every man allowed to publicly wear two swords, with the possible exception of those super-samurai, the daimyo.” - Zen & The Way of the Sword, Winston L. King, p.125

The three primary weapons of the Samurai are the sword, the bow, and the musket. They serve as tools of destruction and as symbols of a specific lifestyle and ethos. I rely on my equipment, just as the Samurai warrior relied on his weapons, when I engage in musical combat.

Bach Bb Trumpet Stradivarious Model 37, Medium Large bore, silver plated, no. 211368 (ca. 1981)

This instrument was/is my first real trumpet; not including my actual first horn, a Conn student cornet. It came into my possession when I was still an elementary school student. I will never forget opening the case and seeing the most beautiful object in the world, a brand new, silver-plated Bach trumpet. The silver plating was so pure and bright, it reflected light like a mirror. Over the years, the horn has gone through countless modifications and alterations. In college, when tweaking your gear was truly in vogue, I replaced the original leadpipe with a Blackburn 20 leadpipe (1991). Later, I stripped the plating down to the raw brass and replaced the Bach S braces (between the bell and the leadpipe) with Conn straight braces, allowing greater ring in the bell because of an increased distance to the first brace post. Among many other modifications, I also built, with the help of Andrew Naumann, a unique curved tuning slide specifically for this horn.

Today I use this instrument in such ensembles as: electric bands, big bands, rock bands, latin groups, and some free improvisation settings. It’s my bar horn, my “frankenhorn”, best suited for unknown battle situations (literally, i.e. drunks fighting). After almost 30 years of "authentic battle damage" (Jack Black, Kung Fu Panda), it remains a truly great sounding instrument. I would compare it, in application, to the bow of the samauri. I often wield this horn in sections with other warriors, to hail a volley of arrows upon the enemy.

“A second requisite of the early samurai was that he be an archer of at least some skill. In those days of the cavalry’s dashing headlong toward enemy forces with the hoped-for impact of a battering ram, the warrior preceded his physical arrival at the enemy’s front-lines by a shower of arrows, released as his self-guiding horse galloped forward. The purpose of this, of course, was to breach the enemy lines so that the attackers could then gallop on through and wreak havoc on the disorganized enemy. Thus the mounted warrior carried a limited supply of arrows in a covered quiver slung over his back, from which they could be pulled one at a time as he rode. Shooting from horseback was, of course, no easy feat, especially when at full gallop, and required special training:

Three-target shooting (yabusame) involved launching the horse at full gallop in a proper direction, while releasing arrows directed at three targets, each constructed of a three-inch square of cardboard set on a pole along the horse’s path. Bamboo-hat target shooting (kasagake) was performed within the confines of a course known as the arrow way (yado), properly fenced and with a shelf at its end from which the bamboo hats were hung. The rider was required to launch his steed at full gallop and begin to hit those hats, first from a distance (tokasagake) and then at close range (kokasake).” – Ibid., p. 63

Blackburn Bb Trumpet, Large bore, Ambronze Bell 213120S, 20 leadpipe, 60-10R tuning slide, standard braces, brass finish, serial no. 253 (1993)

I remember receiving Cliff’s shop horn in the mail. Along with the valve section, there were a few different leadpipes, a couple of bells, and a couple of different shaped tuning slides. Upstairs in a practice room at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln (my undergraduate alma mater), I varied the components until I found the right combination for my tastes. I walked down a floor to the studio of Dennis Schneider, who was a Yamaha player (at the time). When Denny played the horn, he switched out the 20 leadpipe for the 19 leadpipe, and then immediately called Cliff wanting to purchase THAT horn! Cliff said that it wasn’t for sale, and he’d make one just like it for him; but he eventually gave in and Denny bought the shop horn. A few months later, I had my Blackburn as well. It had a raw brass finish for the first year, and then for its birthday, I sent it back to be gold plated (1994).

This horn was my main instrument all the way through graduate studies and well into the early stages of my professional career. It can play anything. Now I use it for classical music and some occasional studio work that demands a traditional, characteristic trumpet sound. To my ear, the caramel sound or this trumpet is an aural representation of the elegant curved sword of the samurai. I honed my trumpet bushido for 16 years on this instrument.

“In such an environment, good swordsmen were always needed; and since good swordsmen can be produced only by good training, swordsmanship instructors were in great demand by all hands – clan leaders, daimyo, shogun, and even the emperor’s court at times. Young warriors-to-be began to familiarize themselves with swords from an early age; At five years of age, they began wearing wooden swords; a little later, junior-size steel blades; and finally, full size swords in their early teens. By his middle to late teens, the young samurai was considered ready for combat. And between battles, any warrior worth his rice continually honed his warrior skills, particularly his swordsmanship, to a fine edge. In this situation, a kind of freewheeling competitive “system” grew up in which prospective employers vied for famous duels and battle-tested veterans to instruct their swordsmen, and ambitious swordsmen sought for positions as instructors. This loosely jointed apparatus gradually developed into the establishment of swordsmanship schools (ryu) throughout the country, each with its head instructor and its special method.” Ibid., p. 95

Naumann Natural Trumpet, Heavyweight, Amado water key, additional modern leadpipe, additional Bb crook, silver plated, serial no. DBG-214 (1995)

Naumann Natural Trumpet, Standardweight Package (German), Custom Wrap (which includes tassles), Amado Water Key, Gold plated, serial no. DGB-511 (1999)

At the University of North Texas, I was fortunate to be involved in one of the first natural trumpet ensembles led by Dr. Leonard Candelaria (Dr. C). One of my fellow graduate students, Andrew Naumann, had started building these instruments out of his Denton apartment. Andy and I were both avid fishermen and I remember him raiding the bait shops for sinkers, in order to get the lead he needed to bend the crooks. Don’t worry, most of the soldiering and metal work was actually done out on his balcony by the grill!

I have never preferred the piccolo for performing baroque trumpet music, the sound just isn’t right. The natural trumpets, even if they are far more demanding to play, have the most pure and beautiful trumpet sound imaginable. If I was forced to only perform with one sound, it would be that of a rich, full natural trumpet tone. The horn requires exceptional skill and endurance, especially when considering the control needed to execute accurate upper register lip slurs throughout the duration of a concert. It represents the essence of trumpet playing; it is the trumpet player’s trumpet. It is akin to the warrior shout of the samurai.

“One incidental dueling device, which was sometimes used, was the warrior shout as the attacker rushed forward to deliver his devastating stroke. Perhaps this was a throwback to the time of the charging horseman who loudly challenged his foes, partly out of sheer battle excitement, partly (he hoped) to strike terror into the opponent. In the classic dueling format, it was employed by the famous swordsman Miyamoto Musashi against his most famous antagonist, Ganryu (Sasaki Kojiro) at the moment of launching his fatal stroke – according to one account at least. No doubt it might be daunting, or at least distracting, when given full-throatedly at the climactic moment. In fact, it became a frequently used technique known as Kiai, practiced by some samurai along with swordsmanship. It was based on the concept of projecting one’s personal field of force against one’s antagonist in order to psychically disable him. It later became a fighting strategem in itself.” – Ibid., p. 65

Monette Bb Trumpet, Prana 1, Wide-radius, Gold plated, serial no. 2121 (2007)

I was in a unique situation of receiving an inheritance tagged specifically for purchase of a new musical instrument, so I traveled out to Portland for a shop visit. Dave makes some incredible horns and I wanted to play all of the different models. After deciding to focus on my jazz career, I was looking for a very specific sound in a new horn. I started with the extra lightweight lead instruments, gradually worked my way heavier, and ended with Ron Miles’ Samadhi that happened to be in the showroom that day. The P1 was a perfect balance of the newer lightweight models and his well-known heavy designs. It has the capability of blending with a saxophone unlike most other trumpets I’ve played, and the valves are like butter. I feel well armed for jazz combat.

Does this horn fill the role of the samurai’s musket? Is there some sort of magic or voodoo behind the metal? Will this new evolution of design affect the samurai as much as the musket could have? Will the samurai ban this new instrument only to be defeated by it in the future? Time will tell.

“Mircea Eliade has noted in various of his writings that metallurgy in its several forms in many different prehistorical and tribal societies had a mythical aura that made the smith a potent and sometimes awesome figure. He was mythologically akin to both shaman and the alchemist, those inhibitors of two worlds (the ordinary and the supernatural, super-sensible one) who inspired men with both hope and fear. The alchemist dreamed of a process by which the substances of the earth, especially the base metals, could be brought to their maturity and perfection and transmuted into pure gold by the “chemistry” of both physical and magical means. The shaman in his trances traveled to the supernatural world of spirits, forces, and influences at great peril, and he then returned to give his messages of counsel, warning, and healing to ordinary men.

Smiths were men of fire, often associated with demonic forces, their craft revealed to them by supernatural powers; they were sometimes feared and hated, at other times honored and respected. Sometimes they formed craft brotherhoods to be entered only by invitation. Their occupation, like the shaman’s, was hazardous because it involved contacts with two levels of reality: the demonic “underworld” of metals and fire, and the ordinary world of their craft productions. Their relations with shamans in various cultures have varied, sometimes hostile, sometimes cooperative and friendly; Eliade notes their relationship thus:

The “secrets of metallurgy” are reminiscent of the professional secrets transmitted among shamans by initiation; in both cases we have a magical technique that is esoteric. That is why the smith’s profession is usually hereditary, like the shaman’s. . . . Here it suffices. . . . to bring out the fact that metallurgical magic, by the “power over fire” that it involved, assimilated a number of shamanic exploits. In the mythology of smiths we find many themes and motifs borrowed from the mythologies of shamans and sorcerers in general.” – Ibid., p. 71

I have been, and continue to be, grateful to work with Cliff Blackburn and Tina Erickson; Andrew Naumann and his crew at Schilke; as well as David Monette and Dean Comely. My association and ongoing personal relationship(s) with these trumpet smiths, is a continued source of enjoyment and a highlight of my career. These artists are our modern sword builders.

Although these trumpets are my primary weapons in battle, the professional trumpeter must employ other instruments on a semi-regular basis.

“Some of these “unorthodox” techniques and their instruments were as follows: the iron-ribbed war fan, used by the bushi as well as others; the staff; the jitte, or side-pronged iron bar; the chain, sometimes by itself, sometimes on the back of a kind of sickle blade, used to neutralize the sword; two blocks of wood connected by a leather thong; a long-stemmed reinforced pipe, almost like a dull sword or bar of iron.” – Ibid., p. 65

Couesnon Flugelhorn, 109 bell, (no apparent serial no.)

Yamaha A/Bb Piccolo Trumpet, Custom YTR9820, short bell, 3 valved, silver plated, serial no. 301018

Antoine Courtois Cornet, Arban Model, shepard’s crook bell, serial no. 72509

Switching back and forth between all of the above mention horns can be difficult; yet when one switches, seppuku is not demanded. To perform on all of these instruments, specific, conscious adjustments are required since each has different peak efficiency points and resonant qualities. Only now, after spending years performing on each one of my Bb trumpets (exclusively, without change), may I move comfortably between the three. I would never attempt to wield them without keeping their individual peculiarities in mind. It is possible, once these variables have been internalized, to become immersed in a horn’s personality and ascend beyond the mechanics of the instrument into a Zen mindset, even while mastering multiple weapons.

The trumpet mouthpiece is a crucial element of each instrument, just as the handle and wrap are to the sword. I have never been one to switch mouthpieces frequently, preferring to solve challenges through practice; yet my choices have, and will continue, to slowly evolve.

Evolution of mouthpieces for the long sword:

• Conn 7C (cornet, summer 1980)
• Bach 7C (the switch to trumpet, 1981)
• Bach 5B (1988)
• Bach 3B (1995)
• Bach 3B w/ drilled out throat (1996)
• Monette B15M (STC1 weight, 1999)
• Monette Prana B15M S3 (STC1 weight, 2006)
• Monette Prana B15M S3 (P1 weight, 2007)

Evolution of lead mouthpieces for the short sword (the one used for seppuku!):

• Shew 1.5 (high school, Bobby turned me on to it)
• Schilke 6a4a (college marching band, I heard that Chase played this model)
• Warburton 5SV cup w/ 7* back (undergraduate big band)
• DiOrio 5E w/ GG back (graduate school and early professional work)
• Monette L2 (first Monette lead piece)
• Monette Prana B15L (switched at the same time as the new Prana B15M S3)

I have been playing the trumpet for 30 years. Every instrument I own, I treasure and maintain with love and respect. A sword will last for hundreds of years, as will a trumpet if they are both treated well and stored carefully. All of my instruments are practiced with reverence, in hopes that they will not fail me in battle, yet it is the warrior’s bujutsu that ultimately determines the outcome of the day.

"Thus Takuan (1573-1645, a well-known Zen monk) taught that no swordsman should “locate” (consciously center) his mind – that is, attention-cneter – at any specific point in his own body, not even in the body-central belly (hara). Fop example, one man said to him: “I place my mind just below my navel and do not let it wander. Thus I am able to change according to the actions of my opponent.” But Takuan countered, “If you consider putting your mind below your navel and not letting it wander, your mind will be taken buy the mind that thinks of this plan. You will have no ability to move ahead and will be exceptionally unfree.”

Where, then, shall he “put his mind,” the swordsman asked Takuan. He replied that if it is “put” anywhere at all in the body, then it becomes a prisoner of that part of the body. The proper method is not to put it anywhere, “and then it will go to all parts of your body, and extend throughout its entirety.” Then, and only then, will each body part perform its function properly – that is, naturally and instinctively. Therefore, Takuan counseled, “Because this is so, leave aside all thoughts and discriminations, throw the mind away from the entire body, do not stop it here and there, and when id does visit these various places, it will realize its function and act without error.”

As Takuan sees it, this is the swordsman’s Zen-inspired discipline. Zen, as a spiritual discipline of all life, is consistently opposed to rigidity, whether it manifests itself in sacrosanct doctrines, beliefs, rituals, or any tightly knit intellectual, attitudinal, institutional, or physical behavioral pattern. In any form, this is a non-Buddha-mind of spiritual fixity and death. And this applies across the board to all facets of living: fixity is death; fluidity is life. This is what Zen means by No-Mind, says Takuan:

“The No-Mind is the same as the Right-Mind. It neither congeals nor fixes itself in one place. . . . The No-Mind is placed nowhere. . . . When this No-Mind has been well developed, the mind does not stop with one thing nor does it lack any one thing. It is like water overflowing and exists within itself. [And most appropriately for the swordsman,] It appears appropriately when facing a time of need [i.e., when suddenly in combat]." -Ibid., p.168

The Other New York

I was talking with the guys on the gig this past weekend down at Fat Cat, and they were asking how things were going for me here in New York. Having no “Other” vision than the current reality of “New York” and all that that implies in my head, I told him things are fine; really good in fact.

I’ve learned that things weren’t always this way.

First off, and seemingly the most obvious difference between reality and, well, the “Other New York” is our Economy. The unemployment rate in New York City is around 10%, we’re clearly in the midst of a National Recession, and basically every major music market has been drastically affected. Really.

After speaking casually with people out here, there seems to be fewer private parties, especially those big, high paying ones. You know, the ones with shrimp at the buffet (and musicians could eat), fancy dresses, VIPs and valet parking? Well, when those parties don’t happen and the musicians aren’t getting the big calls, they can still play their regular gigs. This is not a musical slam, oh no, these regular gigs employ some of the finest musicians on the planet! All of the house bands, Broadway shows, orchestras, operas, club dates, experimental ensembles, touring groups and soloists are still cranking out music on a daily basis.

It’s just that the subs don’t get as many calls.

Broadway pits have reduced in size as well compared to the “Other New York.” This seems to be reflected in people’s excitement over large, full pit revival productions. Everybody loves a full sound, especially on these classic productions. There are a few shows running, however, who use the barest minimum of live musicians possible. Simulated big band music can be heard, but still… simulated big band music can be heard. Hmm. Those who do have the few great seats in the pit, are using their seatbelts.

It seems that the Latin band scene is gone or has diminished. The “Other New York” must have been heaven! This place is fantastic. Right here, right now.

Another sign of the times is that the Record companies are cutting way back. Recording sessions have been in decline for years. This seems to affect this city more than many other music towns, especially within the jazz circles. I personally feel it’s a massive after effect from major labels shutting down their jazz rosters, essentially stopping the flow of corporate money into the scene. The race to sign new talent is a long gone thing of the past. Being from Minneapolis, (a major jazz scene without a major label) I recognize the feeling of optimism among artists coupled with the creative desire to put out music, no matter what. Smaller labels recognize this as well; some are going “boutique”, or, charging artists to release an album. Thankfully there are some high profile, strong willed and creative independent artists and labels still here, as always.

An inevitable side effect of concentrated excellence, is that the young and dedicated stream here from all over the planet. This next generation of musicians, of which no major label will hear, would blow people’s minds. All of them are conversant in modern marketing methods and have the musical chops to back up their savvy. I was in a conversation with a fantastic, nationally recognized figure in the jazz world regarding booking shows around town, mentioning that I was competing for gigs with 19 year olds and he said, “We all are.” While financially frustrating, the potential for musical creativity and collaborative genius is unparalleled anywhere on the planet. This is jazz. New York hosts a global effort pursuing a musical dream of communication through improvisation.

The night I was subbing at Birdland with the Chico O’Farrill Latin Jazz Orchestra, one of the band members said to me on break, “You picked a hell of a time to move to New York.” At the time, I think he was comparing the status quo to the “Other New York”, but in my opinion, I couldn’t have picked a better time to come here. The unyielding optimism I’ve seen in New York’s jazz artists is a wonder in itself. It’s a tangible thing; you can actually feel it. Without fail, each show that I’ve played has put me in a fantastic mood, and has challenged me to my core. It’s like plugging into a pure source of ki. There’ve been amazing performances, amazing music and consistently solid crowds. All of the musicians share a single purpose,

They’re all here to play.

And they’re really nice. (Seriously, these people are really, really nice human beings!)

So far, I’ve been honored to perform with these groups: The Joshua Shneider Easy Bake Orchestra, Chico O’Farril’s Afro-Cuban Jazz Orchestra, George Gee Big Band, Michael O’Brien Greater Than Five, Anti-Social Music, Lou Caputo’s Little Big Band, Howard Williams Big Band, a special guest appearance with my good friends The New Standards (out of Minneapolis) and a new recording project by Daniel Alexander Jones.

Plus I’ve played and/or caught up with more people than I can keep track of, but here’s a short list: (in no particular order) David Gibson, Frank Kimbrough, Alexander Pope Norris, Geoff Vidal, Jon Davis, Joe Burgstaller, Pablo Masis, Michael O’Brien, Max Seigel, Shawn Edmonds, David Smith, Mark Miller, Stephanie Richards, Welf Dorr, Eric Halvorson, Joshua Shneider, Tom Bergeron, Lori Ann Taylor, Russ Nolan, Frank Greene, Mike Engstrom, John Walsh, Avram Fefer, Nate Wooley, Nick Videen, Paul Francis, John Guari, John Raymond, Mark Gross, Christopher Rinaman, Greg Diamond, Omar Abdulkarim, Wilmer Wise, Matthew McDonald, Thomas Heflin, Jeff Hirshfield, Matthew Jodrell, Ted Nash, Kirk Knuffke, Peter Evans, Laurie Frink, Howard Johnson, David Berkman, Roger Lent, Jason Wiseman, Dave Douglas, Billy Fox, Chris DiMeglio, Ty Citerman, Daniel Kelly, Chris Carroll, Daniel Alexander Jones, Sam Burtis, Rudy Albin Petschauer, Benjamin Healy, Evan Mazunik, Andy Gravish, John Eckert, Jim Seeley, Charles Blass, Eli Asher, Arturo O’Farrill, Bill Crow, Justin Mullens, Noah Bless, Frank Basile, Curtis Fowlkes, and many more… (give them a listen, great stuff)

And I can’t even begin to list the wonderful musicians that I’ve heard play live. Wow, what a town. Maybe someday, this will be my “Other New York”.

Gig From Hell

This is the best "gig-from-hell" story I have ever heard; and it happened to me. The story was big news for a while, I even remember reading about it in a regional dance band magazine. It’s been about 20 years since this gig and some of small details may be off, so if you happen to know any of the key dramatic figures, go ahead and ask them about the trip.

The Reflections Orchestra: 11-piece dance band based out of Lincoln, NE, owned and operated by five real life brothers whose father also led a dance band.

Mike: Lead Vocal and MC (brother no.1)

Dave: Drummer (brother no.2)

Bob: Bass (brother no.3)

John: Saxophone (brother no.4)

(The fifth brother, a pianist, had quit the band by this time, so he missed the fun)

Kristy: Vocals

Kelly: Trumpet

Bob: Trumpet

Dave: Sax

Trombone: Trombone (I can’t remember who was playing bone that night)

Freelance Kansas sax player: Sax (freelance player, small part in the production)

Freelance Kansas piano player: Piano (same situation as sax player above)

The set-up happened countless times before; arrive at a meeting spot, the tour bus picks up the band, we drive many hours to the gig, play, and drive back home, easy, right? The band was based out of Lincoln, NE and this particular gig was in or around Topeka, KS.

The temperature that day was a record high in Lincoln. It was probably upper 90's or more in the sun. I arrived at the truck stop, a.k.a. designated meeting place, 5 minutes before the scheduled departure time. Well, the bus didn't show for another hour, evidently the meeting time had been moved back. Of course, I didn't receive that message so I spent the time sitting on the hood of my ’72 light blue Duster enjoying (!?!) the weather.

Finally the bus arrives. This deluxe touring vehicle is a Greyhound from the 60's; it was a tank! It was wider than today's bus size regulations permit and the rear half had been transformed into a series of bunk beds and storage closets. Actually, it was a pretty sweet ride. As we get underway, we break out the deck of cards and sit at the table enjoying the air-conditioning and our usual game of poker.

Less than 30 minutes into the drive, the air-conditioning goes out. Aaargh. Ok, we're grown ups, we can handle this. So we propped the windows open with shoes and duct tape. After a couple of playing cards get sucked out the window, we abandoned the game. Nothing to do now but to sit and sweat.

Our first stop was in Nebraska City, straight south of Lincoln, to pick up one of the additional musicians for the night. We pull into the Wendy's parking lot and happily dive for the air-conditioned interior of the restaurant. Refreshed and well Frostied™, we head back out to the buss only to find that the keys were locked inside. No problem. I volunteer to scale the outside of the bus and climb in through the driver's open window. Once that was accomplished, I had to hit some makeshift electronic switch to open the main door; it was kind of like hot-wiring the lock. As we pulled out of the parking lot, we all felt lucky that we avoided a catastrophe.

The next hour or so was fairly uneventful, until the fateful moment happened. I was sitting near the bunks when I noticed quite a commotion amongst the brothers who owned the band. They were all up front by the driver, craning their necks to try and see behind the bus. I think someone was yelling something about the engine. We immediately (and fortunately) pulled off at a rest stop and streamed out of the bus. Trailing behind the bus, all the way back up the exit ramp, was a big black cloud of smoke. The engine had completely blown.

As us hired guns sat at a picnic bench, two of the brothers ran around the rest stop looking for rides into the nearest town. I remember this retired couple out walking their dog, turn and walk quickly back to their camper, then locking the doors when they saw these two scraggly musicians coming. Eventually, a trucker was kind enough to give them a lift… somewhere.

We had no idea what to do, or rather, what the owners of the band were going to do, so we just made the best of it an hung out in the shade of a few trees at this quaint little rest stop in northern Kansas. We assumed the gig would be scrapped and we'd just head home by car or something.

Much later, here comes this U-Haul truck blasting its horn, heading straight towards us. It's the guys! “Ok team, let's load up.” Being young and easily ordered around, I quickly helped to load ALL of our gear (amps, PA's, music boxes, fronts, light racks, power cables, drums and other instruments) into the back of this U-Haul. After we had everything in the truck it hit us – where do we sit? Yep, you guessed it. Up in the cab, one of the brothers drove, the female singer sat in the middle and the older trumpet player sat shotgun. The rest of us had to climb in the back of this thing and sit ON TOP of all of our gear!

Our first concern, while in the back of this U-Haul truck, was the amount of carbon monoxide that would get sucked into the compartment from the exhaust, so we shut the door tightly and headed out to the gig. Remember, the temperature was really, really hot and after loading all of that gear, we were some hot and sweaty dudes. Of course a couple of the guys lit up their cigs and pretty soon the compartment was full of sweat/steam/smoke… yuck. I only held out for about 25 minutes before banging on the cab to get the driver to pull over. We all laid down on the equipment cases and faked unconsciousness. When the driver opened the back door, smoke and sweat billowed out and he saw us all “dead” – of course his first response was to laugh. We immediately hit the next gas station and decided to tie the door open with a bent coat hanger, leaving a foot and a half gap, and just risk the exhaust.

We eventually pulled into the performance venue, which was some big dance hall, and one of the guys ran in to tell the story about the bus, and to explain to the crowd why the band arrived 70 minutes after the scheduled start time. After a lightning set-up, we hit, and the crowd gave us a wild round of applause, very impressed that we made it at all. After the first set, the singer was out in the audience talking with people and someone spilled a drink on her new dress, ruining it completely.

This is when somebody said, "Well, it can't get any worse," little did they know…

One thing that can always make a bad situation worse is alcohol. Up until now, the band has had only a few drinks during the gig, but since we were staring at a five plus hour ride home in the back of a U-Haul truck, we had to find something to drink. Thankfully, one of the brothers managed to convince the owner of the hall to get us a case of off-sale beer. He must have felt sorry for us.

What a party. Here we are, downing beers in the back of a U-Haul, telling dirty jokes and being generally rowdy. Kristy joined us in the back of the truck for some mixed company banter. Mike, the front man and singer, was a family man who seemed to be the most affected by the alcohol. The rest of us took it in stride.

About an hour into the trip, we needed a pit stop. The truck pulls over at a typical mid-western gas station, you know, the kind with rows of pumps out front between the street and the store. We parked the truck on the outside of the pumps, past a couple of cars and a pickup truck with a boat in tow. This is important because they all sat between the U-Haul and the entrance to the shop.

After acting like a bunch of obnoxious dufi (plural for dufus), we headed back out across the lane of pumps to the truck, now fully loaded with candy bars and bad burritos. Mike, who had too much to drink, jumped over the tongue of the boat trailer and landed badly. His ankle exploded to the size of a softball within seconds. Ouch.

So the next stop on this little tour was at the local hospital.

Although a couple of guys managed to get escorted out of the hospital for being overly rowdy, the party was beginning to wind down. Perhaps a good 50 minutes later, Mike comes hobbling out of the hospital on crutches. He had a severely sprained ankle.

Problem. What do you do with someone in this condition? Well, our only choice was to clear out a spot for him on the floor of the U-Haul, so he could lie flat on his back and keep his leg slightly up for the duration of the trip. We were pulling out of the parking lot and Mike's brother John was dinking around by the open door, inside of the back of the U-Haul. Speed Bump. The large back door, which is currently open about a foot and a half and still wired to keep it from opening all of the way, bounced hard and slams on John's foot. "@^%&!,” says John. So he heads up to the cab of the truck, biting his tongue because of the pain. Off we go.

I decided to stay awake since there was a guy laying on his back about five inches from an open door, flying along a highway at 85 miles per hour. I held the band's boom box stereo on my shoulder and turned up the tunes.

Later, not really sure how long we were on the road, I look out the back and see that we've turned into another parking lot. I figured it was another gas station. Since everyone else was asleep, I head out by myself to grab a soda.

Well, it was another HOSPITAL! I don't know where the hell we were, but it was a completely different hospital. I guess John couldn't take it anymore and had to check in. So a couple of us decided to indulge in some fine crap waiting room pseudo coffee flavored water. This time, the hospital was much faster, go figure; it's in the middle of the night. John had actually broken a bone on the arch of his foot. Yup, more crutches.

So here we are, two guys lying on their backs, on the floor of a rented U-Haul, with a pile of crutches, and the door wired open as we speed down a Nebraska highway in the middle of the night. Again, I was the guy to stay awake and watch over this bizarre scene.

Once we hit Nebraska City, I bailed and insisted on sitting up in the cab for the final leg of the trip back to Lincoln.

The rest of the trip was thankfully uneventful. But at least we got paid. The entire fiasco paid $80 per man!!!!

And YES, the above story is 100% true. Really.

Definition of Jazz

“Jazz is a global art form; which, primarily through improvisation, combines both the traditional and popular music of multiple cultures within a modern social context.”

- Kelly Rossum, 12:05am, October 1, 2007

Shugyo

What a view! This is what I see as I practice each day. This photograph was taken in late October from Fort Tryon Park overlooking the Hudson River. Some days are just amazingly beautiful up here on the hill. I can see the George Washington Bridge to my left and just barely see the Harlem River connecting off to my right. This is the perfect place to play, partially because I’m directly over the Henry Hudson Parkway (HWY 9A), which means that I will never bother anyone with my obnoxious trumpet calisthenics.

The first priority in realizing the life (my life) of a jazz musician is to maintain and ensure the highest level of personal performance, in other words: Be Ready. At any moment, you may be asked to play for or with musicians who can radically change the course of your career. Every time you place the horn to your lips, you are essentially “auditioning” for your next gig. There’s a phrase, “You’re only as good as your last note.” There’s some truth in that.

My situation in Minneapolis was luxurious in that I could see on my calendar when the Big Gigs were scheduled, and could prepare accordingly. I would keep my skills at a decent level through teaching and practicing in the office, and then would crank up the practice intensity during the few weeks before a show.

In New York, every day must focus primarily on the horn. Currently, I have no teaching commitments, so I have the opportunity to really explore the trumpet again. I’ve gone back to a system of intense practice called, “Shugyo.” This is something that I started in November of 2002 after reading “Blowing Zen” by Ray Brooks. It is a well-written, highly enjoyable story about discovering the shakuhachi, its music, and its deeper cultural significance. It is among the top three or four most influential books dealing with music that I’ve come across, probably because it isn’t really about music at all.

“Shugyo, which means “practice,” comes from the word shugendo, or the “ascetic path to realization,” and describes spiritual exercise or training. It can take any form, just as long as deeply focused discipline is present and ki energy is developed.

My chosen form of practice was to hike up Mount Takao each day, and, once at the top, play shakuhachi for six hours, then hike back down again. My aspirations weren’t so lofty as to become an “awakened one” but simply to increase my physical strength, vastly improve my musical skills, develop ki, and learn more about discipline.” – page 163, “Blowing Zen”, Ray Brooks

In 2002, I set a goal of playing three hours a night after my teaching was done. I would play from 9:00pm until 12:00 Midnight, hoping to make a straight 60 day stretch (with the exception of performance conflicts). During this time, I was writing specific exercises for the trumpet based on Nicolas Slonimsky’s “Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns.” These original exercises became the exclusive musical content of my sessions. The shugyu lasted slightly over a month, yet in this time I managed to unearth more personal resources than I ever expected.

Over the years, my definition of shugyo has changed to consist of focused practice EVERY DAY, not just a 60 day block. The time frame is now more flexible along with the content of each session. I still play from the original shugyo material as often as possible, however my musical focus can shift depending on my needs.

Here in New York, I have adopted one important aspect of Ray Brook’s original shugyo; I am playing outside. So far, the weather has been relatively mild (compared to Minnesota!). There have been a couple of cold rainy days, and on those days I am reminded of the book and smile.

“Shit! What am I doing up here? It’s absolutely ludicrous standing here. Sixty days! And me supposed to be a man of no goals! Why would anyone in his right mind spend his time standing on the side of a mountain in the pissing rain? I could have stayed at home and done my sixty days at my own temple. Prat! It’s bloody embarrassing. I’m freezing, my legs are aching, and my back is killing me. I bet I’m the only fool on this mountain today.” – page 164, “Blowing Zen”, Ray Brooks

I’ve found that the act of preparation goes a long way in executing a successful practice session. As I walk up the 80 stairs of the Alpine Garden and then wind my way up and around the path to the Cloisters, I can clear my mind of the buzzing and begin to think about why I’m up here. The park is an oasis of nature in an urban landscape. There are a couple of cats that live in the park and a black squirrel that I’ve named Charlie. When I reach the overlook, I sit on one of the benches and lay my case to my right side. Take out the horn. Breath, focus, breath, open your eyes, go.

“A painter seats himself before his pupils. He examines his brush and slowly makes it ready for use, carefully rubs ink, straightens the long strip of paper that lies before him on the mat, and finally, after lapsing for a while into profound concentration, in which he sits like one inviolable, he produces with rapid, absolutely sure strokes a picture which, capable of no further correction and needing none, serves the class as a model.

A flower master begins the lesson by cautiously untying the bast which holds together the flowers and sprays of blossom, and laying it to one side carefully rolled up. Then he inspects the sprays one by one, picks out the best after repeated examination, cautiously bends them into the form which exactly corresponds with the role thay are to play, and finally places them together in an exquisite vase. The completed picture looks just as if the Master had guessed what Nature had glimpsed in dark dreams” – pages 41 and 42, “Zen in the Art of Archery”, Eugen Herrigel

These routines are not mindless. Every motion both creates and requires focused concentration. If you can achieve this state BEFORE you begin a task, the quality of your subsequent actions, in this case a practice session, increases tenfold.

I’ve been climbing these steps since September. Now it’s become a welcome part of my life. Practice is a daily challenge with no immediate reward and no applause.

“Shakuhachi is not really an instrument that one can take up casually just for entertainment. It takes infinite patience and great presence of mind to learn it. If played with passion and without motive, it can become much more than just a musical instrument. For me, it’s been a valuable tool that has helped to unfold the deeper, more important questions of life. It’s been a fine teacher, and many times the harshest of mirrors,” he added, laughing loudly again. “As you study, don’t be concerned about ‘Am I getting better?’ Just practice for its own sake, and let progress take care of itself. Don’t corrupt the beauty of learning by becoming attached to an end goal.” – page 58 and 59, “Blowing Zen”, Ray Brooks

One day at a time.