Recent Articles

Going Home

The concept is simple enough.  A player you admire, someone doing what you aspire to, is playing a certain mouthpiece or a certain horn.  Maybe you see it in an advertisement, or maybe it is just talked about in the hallways outside practice rooms and on internet chat sites.  There was a thread on TrumpetHerald recently where the whole topic of discussion was what horn Chris Martin was using, the underlying motivation for such a thread remaining unspoken: if I could just get my hands on the exact equipment Chris Martin uses...  Or perhaps for you it isn't another player that makes you decide to try a new instrument.  Maybe it is the seduction of improving a skill that is difficult on your current trumpet, or maybe it is the constant lure of that magical sound that will finally lead you to the career of your dreams.  Whatever the motivation, a new instrument can woo us at our most defenseless times and lead us to decisions that, in retrospect, were not sound.  Sometimes, of course, a new instrument can be the godsend it seems to be, but it's by no means always the case.  Just as often, and perhaps more often, this decision works against us, and that is the reason it must be taken carefully.

I mentioned a couple of months ago that I had some work done on my old Bach C trumpet (239 with a 25A for the equipment zealots), but I don't believe I went into any detail about what was done.  The work entailed a few minor repairs plus a removal of the pitch finder mechanism that John Hagstrom had convinced me to put on after I won the 4th trumpet job in the CSO way back in 1998.  With the pitch finder gone, the horn was... [complete article]

 

A Matter of Perspective

As I write this I am soaring (at 12,500 meters apparently) above scattered clouds and vacant stretches of blue, through an endless sky and over a ceaseless ground.  Impossibly inhabited little towns litter a landscape carved with lonely roads that meander senselessly but purposefully in every direction.  The men that imagined them and made them are invisible, but the product of their labor is laid out for all to see, like some kind of Earth-sized ghost town, with nothing but old signs and structures pointing to those who once roamed its streets. But forgive me; I wax poetic over the ordinary.  This is, after all, just a business trip.

Yes, it is just one more hastily packed and prepared jaunt around the world that people in our day and age have made so commonplace.  It is always the same people on these trips: The Noise Canceling Headphone Man, who has finally found the ultimate weapon for protection against...; The Talk to Anybody Conversationalist, who seems to always find a seat next to the most fascinating person they have ever encountered; The Bitter Old Man, shouting brusque instructions and complaints at his flustered, wobbling wife as they hurriedly slog through the busy terminal; The Sleeper, that irritating person who has the seemingly impossible (and much envied) ability to begin sleeping at the moment he drops into an airplane seat, only to awake refreshed and eager, like some modern sleeping beauty, when the airplane wheels kiss the runway on arrival.  This usual cast of characters, combined with the rigorous routine of security, the airplane boarding protocol, the squeezing down the aisle past the person who needs to unpack 17 things out of his carry-on in order to stave off relentless boredom for just a bit longer (yet another character that could be listed above) -- all of these things are the necessary evils and hurdles inherent in travel.  Both commonplace and irritating, they make our trip so inconvenient and difficult that we are left wondering why we should have to be burdened with such things in order to merely get from one point to another.

But that isn't really true is it?  It was not so long ago that a trip like the one I am on now -- from Miami, FL to Toronto, Canada -- would have taken days.  Not long before that, this trip would have taken weeks or months and would have involved preparations that would make even the most avid list-maker weep.  Now, though, we blast through the air near the speed of sound, whisked along on the wings of one of man's most remarkable achievements -- coffee and pastries in hand, iPod providing a soundtrack to our journey -- covering a distance in a few hours that once took man centuries.  And what do we do in sight of such luxury and wonder?
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Dueling with Pinchas: Building Strength for the Brandenburg and Beyond

My first year as Principal Trumpet in the Chicago Symphony had enough big repertoire in it to tantalize, terrorize, and titillate anyone with aspirations of sitting in that chair.  It just so happens that I was anyone.  It never really felt like sitting, however; more like roasting, but that is a story for another time... 

Amongst all the big concerts during that year there was one that stood out right from the time that I saw the press release for the new season: a concert featuring both Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 and Stravinsky’s Soldier’s Tale with Pinchas Zukerman as soloist and conductor.  This concert was to be done 5 times: Wednesday night, Thursday night, Friday matinee, Saturday night, Sunday matinee.  Looking across the landscape of that season it seemed to me like the Himalaya Mountains: many high peaks, but only one Everest.  This concert was my Everest, my biggest chance to soar, my biggest chance to crash.  I did not want to crash, so I set up a strength building routine to make sure I was in the kind of shape I would need to be in to be able to play a concert that I wasn’t even sure was possible, to say nothing of well thought out.  Oh yeah, did I mention that I had never played either piece before?  Yes, my debut for both of these pieces was to be under the bright lights of Chicago Symphony Hall, playing with one of the world’s greatest violin virtuosos, while sitting in God’s very own chair.  Other than that, I was pretty relaxed about the whole thing.

The first step I take in working towards a goal such as this is to figure out what the biggest challenges will be.  For this concert there were big challenges, but they weren’t widely varied.  The biggest issue by far was to be able to get through the Brandenburg with enough gas in the tank to be able to have all the touch and finesse required of the Stravinsky, especially over a period of five consecutive days.  The other big issue...[complete article]

 

Eclipsing

If I told you that I rolled out of bed (quite literally, I might add) in the general vicinity of 4am to drive down to the beach to see the total lunar eclipse, you would probably think I was crazy.  If I added that there was the distinct possibility that I might be a bit tired from said lunar gazing on a day that I have to teach five lessons to eager students who are trying to make careers in music, you might take issue.  But if I added that I only managed to practice an hour and a half on a day that started at 4am you would probably dice me up and sacrifice me on the altar of your local trumpet deity.  Well, so be it.  Get out that oversized, seldom-used kitchen knife and get to work.  That is the day I had and I am not ashamed to admit it.  How, you might wonder, can any self-respecting musician sacrifice so much precious time gazing at shadows on giant rocks floating around the universe?  After all, I could have been practicing, or studying scores, or teaching, or…

Yes, there are many ways that I could have been investing my time, many ways that are generally accepted, tried and true, and worthy of merit.  Perhaps you wouldn’t include watching a lunar eclipse in that list.  After all, what musical benefit could come from watching such a thing?  If you are thinking that perhaps I have been able to mine the darkened moon for sources of range and endurance, you are, of course, sadly mistaken, but I do maintain that there is merit in watching the shadow of the earth pass over, and then engulf, the light of the unsuspecting moon.  Confused as to how that could possibly make you a better trumpet player?  You should be.  However, if your question is how can that make you a better musician, then there is something to discuss. [complete article]

 

Smooth Water

It is 6:30 in the morning.  The wind is hard in my face and my body is shivering.  Tears run from both eyes as I sit blinking in the bow of our speeding boat.  No one is speaking, for we are in route. 

Not ten minutes prior I was sleeping comfortably in bed.  Then, in a blur, I was awakened, dressed, and now somehow find myself here, galloping across the cool morning water of the lake.  The sleeping world surrounds me.  I yearn for the comfort and warmth of my bed, a bed that is likely still warm without me.  Through my tear-soaked eyes, the only sign of life I see is the occasional duck scurrying to evade our determined craft.  But we have no time to stop for ducks right now, for we are in route.

I look back at my father.  He sits behind the wheel, relaxed, determined, happy.  He sees the world with a kind of boyish joy, and he smiles.  He points to the ducks flying low across the water.  He points to the sun, rising now over the hills, filling the clouds with color like a balloon with air: slowly, steadily.  I close my eyes against the wind, shivering.  I know the air is not truly cold, but my body is less convinced.  I listen.  The only sounds are the whoosh of the air and the roar of the engine.  I ponder the sounds I would hear if we were still: the call of the Bob White Quail so common in these hills, the water lapping at the shore, and the overwhelming silence of a sunrise at the lake.  These sounds will eventually be replaced by those of jet-skis and fishing boats, pontoon boats and ski boats, the sounds of the lake on a hot Texas Summer afternoon.  The water will be rough and chaotic, and it will be hard to find a good place to even throw a rope in the water, much less ski.  If you do manage to find space to ski, you will find water that has been churned up randomly in all directions.  Waves of all sizes and shapes will bombard you.  Your legs will be giant shock absorbers, protecting you from the onslaught of the hammering waves.  Yet now, in this stunning dawn, the water lies still, its surface marred only by the slight morning breeze.  If we were looking for a good place to ski we would simply throttle back, throw out a rope, grab a ski, and go.  But we are not looking for a good place to ski.  We are looking for a great place to ski.  We are looking for the smooth water.

If you have never felt it, then you can’t possibly know.  The feeling of skiing across glass-smooth water is like nothing else.  The ski glides perfectly smoothly; there is no bobbing and it makes no sound.  No chatter.  No hum.  There is no sense of texture on the surface below.  There is only smoothness.  The ski dodges and turns at your every whim in a lake with no surface, a lake with no sound.  It is a beautiful thing.  It is this sensation we are seeking, that is what pushes us forward: the feeling of gliding across emptiness.  The water we are riding over now is nothing in comparison.  It is adequate, sure, but it pales against that which we seek.  In this water the ski would vibrate subtly, driven to dance by the light wind-blown ripples on the surface.  The chatter would not be severe.  Quite the contrary, it would be very subtle.  But that feeling of soaring across emptiness is gone with the least hint of texture on the surface.  The skiing here is good, but we are not looking for good, we are looking for magical.  Yes, we are in route, in route to smooth water.
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School's Out: What Now?

 I remember the feeling well: the feeling that responsibility was lifted, that opportunity lay around every corner, that every day contained the seed of adventure.  I had just finished my junior year in high school when my best friend and I were heading out in his blue MG convertible.  We pulled out of the school parking lot and turned on the radio.  The not-so-dulcet tones of Alice Cooper belting out “School’s Out” filled our ears, only to be overwhelmed by our own really-not-so-dulcet voices joining in.  Freedom was our wind; time was our sail; the whole world awaited us.  We would achieve great things and have unforgettable experiences…

I have no idea what I did with myself that summer.  Well, actually I do, but I have no idea what I did to improve myself as a trumpet player or musician over that summer.  I had already decided that I wanted to be a professional trumpet player, and I know I practiced over that summer, but I don’t know what I improved, if I improved anything at all.  There I was, focused on a career in which it is excruciatingly difficult to achieve success.  I had the whole summer to focus on improving my playing and make big progress towards achieving my dreams.  How did I spend my time?  Well, I won’t tell you her name, but suffice it to say that I wasn’t too focused on my trumpet playing!  Even with no distractions at all, though, my progress may not have been great.  Why?  Simple.  I didn’t really know what I needed to be working on in order to be truly productive.

Determining what to work on while outside the guidance of a teacher is a very common problem and/or concern among students.  At the end of every school year, I am bombarded by questions from students about what they should work on over the summer.  Sometimes the students seem bewildered, curious, or even a bit afraid.  These reactions are understandable.  Staring into the kaleidoscope of seemingly endless summer can be daunting.  There you are, perched on the abyss of long and empty summer days.  You are certain you will jump, but uncertain about how or when, or, most importantly, what the outcome will be.  Having so much freedom in your life is truly a blessing, but it is also a challenge.  How will you mold your putty of time into something that satisfies your various goals and desires?  On the surface, this question may seem simple, but the deeper you dig, the more complex it becomes until you suddenly realize the dizzying array of options that are at your disposal.  Ten different things that you want or need to do are whirling around in your mind, but plucking one out of the air and setting your aims on it can often be like the scene with the keys from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: once you grab one, then the rest instantly and ruthlessly give chase.
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12,000 Reasons to Play

Three days, 12,000 performances.  The plausibility of the numbers may seem dubious, but they are correct.  What’s more, each performance was given by a high school teenager enrolled in band, orchestra, or choir.  Where can one see such an event, you ask?  If you know much about high school music programs in the United States, the answer will come as no surprise – Texas.

Each year the Texas State Solo and Ensemble Competition (TSSEC), held at the University of Texas and Texas State Universities, plays host to the most talented high school music students from all across this sprawling state.  From twirlers to trombones, voices to violas, this competition has categories for just about anything that relates to music at the high school level.  Busloads of high school students arrive at the campus and disperse into small packs that prowl the area looking for a place to meet, warm up, have lunch, or relax.  Everywhere you walk, you hear playing or singing; you see equipment of all shapes and sizes being whisked here and there.  You see Band Directors frantically trying to gather their students together, only to launch them off a moment later in twelve different directions, a room number nervously clutched in their young hands.  These students will somehow find this room and go on to perform for what they may see as some grouchy taskmaster of a judge that is there to dissect their performance like one of those frogs from high school biology class.  Yes, you guessed it; that’s where I come in.

Truth be known, those judges aren’t actually grouchy taskmasters at all.  In fact, the judges are people who dedicate their valuable time, energy, and expertise to helping young students learn and improve ­– doing whatever they can to further the art of musical performance amongst the young people of today.  When I was asked to serve as a judge at TSSEC, I was honored and delighted.  For me, judging this competition is a means of coming full circle.  I have attended it as a Band Director’s son – watching the chaos through a child’s eyes – as a participant – nervously anticipating a performance into which I have invested hundreds of hours of preparation – and now as a judge – listening to the performances and setting the standard by which these young musicians will be evaluated.  I have now seen the full spectrum of this unique event, and quite honestly, the more I see of it, the more I am amazed.  It is an organizational miracle that it doesn’t simply implode upon itself, a miracle that is secured by the tireless work of its Director, Richard Floyd, and his incredible team.
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It's Always Something

There’s no escaping it.  It is always there, nipping at your heels, nagging at your conscience, trying to convince you that this time is different.  You had it all planned out: what to practice, when to practice, that essential strength session at the end of the day.  But now “something” has come up, telling you that today is different, that today is special, that this time you just can’t work according to your plan.  “Tomorrow will be different,” the little voice in your head tells you. “It will be better.  This will be done by tomorrow.  This is something special.”  And you know what?  It’s right.  Well, at least it’s half right.  It is right in that this particular event may well be very special and may need to take priority today.  But it isn’t totally forthcoming in telling you that tomorrow will be better, that all of these distractions will at last have passed you by.  “Just wait until tomorrow,” the voice urges. “Tomorrow there will be no exceptions.  It will go absolutely according to plan.”  When you hear that phrase, you should be afraid, very afraid indeed.

You are likely wondering what this mysterious “something” could be.  In reality, it could be anything: it could be a repair on your home or car, it could be an errand you have to run, a big project that you have to finish for school, a girlfriend’s birthday, a boyfriend’s party, a holiday, a big game, a chance to see an old friend, a chance to make a new one…  In short, it could be any one of about a thousand things.  But this “something” always has one trait: it always believes itself worthy of an exception or deviation to your original practice plan.

Life is full of unforeseen responsibilities or opportunities.  It is full of things that you simply can’t miss.  The problem comes, though, when you realize that there just isn’t enough time left over to fit in those long hours of practice that are required in order to have a successful career.  If you always listen to and agree with that little voice that is telling you to change your plan just this once, then you will be changing it almost daily.  In the end, you simply won’t be able to put in the time that is needed.
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Unexpect the Expected

Think ahead to your next important performance.  Maybe it is a jury, a recital, or an audition.  What are your expectations?  Do you hope to win?  Impress people?  Play better than you ever have before?  Play like you do every day?  What do you expect out of that upcoming performance?  Do you imagine it being described using a dazzling display of classical-music-reviewer buzzwords: golden, splendid, refined, glowing, mellifluous, daring, convincing, staggering?  Do you have your expectations in mind now?  Are you sure?  Okay.  Lose them.  Squash them, beat them, bury them, pop them, blow them up, destroy them any way you can.  They are your enemies.  Expectations can be the barrier between you and the performance you truly desire.  Do you have expectations?  Unexpect them.

At first glance, expectations may seem to be helpers on your pathway to success.  They may appear to be the things that keep you moving forward, that make sure you are aiming as high as you possibly can.  To allow yourself to continue to perceive them in that manner, however, would be folly.  In reality, it is having a sound musical vision and the ability to set challenging but reasonable goals that will give you the ability to maximize your potential.  Expectations are frauds.  They trick us into thinking that they are our friends; they make us think that they will help to influence the outcome of our next performance in a positive manner.  In reality, though, nothing could be farther from the truth. 

Expectations are traps.  They shift our focus from the process to the result and, in doing so, they remove us from “the moment”.  Yes, that moment, the same moment that we are always hearing about.  The one that people are always getting caught up in or lost in.   If you have experienced this yourself, then you know how powerful and beneficial it is; if not, hopefully this article will provide you that opportunity.  You want to become totally and utterly lost in “the moment”.  That is the place where nothing matters other than what you are doing right now: the shape of this phrase, the sound of this note, the length of these staccatos.  There is no future and there is no past.  Successful performances stem from the immersion of the performer into the music of the moment, and this phenomenon is the exact opposite of an expectation.
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A Study in Relativity: Your Tuner and You

It’s simple; you play a note into the tuner, and it tells you whether you are sharp, flat, or in tune.  If you are out of tune, then you adjust your pitch until the needle indicates that you are in tune.  Job done; end of story; ’nuff said… right?

If this has been your approach to using a tuner, then you haven’t been getting the information you need from this extremely useful tool.  In fact, you may even have been hurting your own playing in the process.  “But I make sure I always peg the needle when I tune,” you reply, “This article can’t be talking about me!”  Ironically, it is the needle-peggers that need this article the most.

When you make the decision to play “in tune” with the tuner, you are committing yourself to many things.  First and foremost, you are committing yourself to the equitempered scale, the same one that a piano is tuned to.  At first, this may seem a good and logical thing to be committed to, but a closer look points out some of the problems that this presents.  The equitempered scale was designed so that we could play in many different keys, with no retuning required for the new key.  However, the purest sounding intervals and chords are not generated using an equitempered scale.  To make a chord ring, the members of the chord must be pried from their equitempered homes and moved slightly in one direction or another.  For instance, a perfect fifth on a piano is not nearly as perfect as a fifth can be.  In order for the fifth to resonate with absolute purity, the fifth needs to be raised from its equitempered position.  Given that the perfect fifth serves as the foundation for all Major and Minor chords, it becomes obvious that this one adjustment will affect a huge percentage of music and, as a result, your music making ability. 
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Calling Chicken Little

This time it’s real.  It’s take-it-in-the-gut-and-suck-the-air-out-of-you real!  This is no mamby-pamby children’s tale.  This is the unrated, uncut, unfit for human eyes, director’s version.  We have all seen the signs – the little pieces of sky falling here and there – but we have chosen to ignore them.  Now, we can’t afford to do that anymore.  The sky of our trumpet world is falling, collapsing in a heap around us.  Young kids in diapers winning orchestra jobs left and right, leaving everyone else to ponder why in the world they ever picked up a trumpet in the first place.  It is time for a panic: a sell-all-your-horns-on-eBay-get-your-real-estate-license-why-have-I-wasted-so much-of-my-life-playing-the-trumpet kind of panic.  We need the expert.  We need Chicken Little.

If you have ever envisioned a career playing in a major symphony orchestra, your sky is falling, and falling in big juicy chunks.  Early on there was Chris Martin.  I think Chris won his first orchestra gig when he chose to focus on the audition list for the Philadelphia Orchestra, rather than the 8th grade band tryout material his band director had assigned.  Okay, so he wasn’t that young, but he was young enough.  When he won the Associate Principal Trumpet position in the Philadelphia Orchestra, the writing was on the wall.  If you looked carefully, you could see pieces of sky already beginning to peel off and small chunks falling to the ground.  But no one was that concerned then, and the falling sky was almost universally ignored.  Now, he has won the vaunted position of Principal Trumpet in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, leaving anyone else with desires for the job to wait in their swaddling clothes for the next audition in 2040, or 2050, or, if he stays as long as Bud Herseth, 2059.  And you thought the wait at your favorite restaurant on a Friday night was bad.  What is that on the ground beside you?
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Control Points

Control points.  Every trumpet player has them, but few consciously use them.  That’s unfortunate, because proper use of your control points can transform your playing.  Does this seem a little bit too much like those infomercials for the “Perfect Club”?Have no fear; I will not infomercialize trumpet technique.  I will, however, do my best to give you some idea what control points are, and why you should care.

We are all keenly aware of our embouchure corners.  Likely, we know what things we can do (or not do) with our corners to facilitate our playing.  Really though, the corners are just half of the picture.  The job of the corners is to stretch the lips out, like a smile, and if there is nothing on the other end to counteract them, then we do indeed form a smile.  This may look good for the school picture, but it is no way to play the trumpet.  What we need is something to balance the stretching muscles in the corners, so that we can form a vibrating surface with the lips.  The muscle that provides that balancing force is the “puckering” muscle (yes, that is the scientific name, unless of course you count orbicularis oris, but you likely won’t remember that, so I’ll stick with puckering). 
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Hi, I'm Better than You

You probably all know it.  It is almost universal.  But just in case you don’t recognize it, I am talking about the trumpet player’s handshake.  You know the one.  You stick out your hand, squeeze the unsuspecting fingers of your trumpet-playing foe, and confidently pronounce, “Hi, I’m better than you!”  Now, this handshake is always told as a joke, but like many great jokes, there is some truth to it.  If you have ever shaken someone’s hand at an audition, you know what I mean.  There is certainly no ill will or malice (normally), but there is definitely tension, and the fleeting thought: I wonder if I am better than him.

When discussing the realm of trumpet auditions, this is certainly a viable question/concern.  After all, everyone is vying for one, maybe two, spots.  It seems pretty clear that the “best” trumpet player(s) are going to get the gig, while everyone else begins a long, lonely, soul-searching trip back to wherever they came from.  The quest to be the best is certainly noble.  Athletes the world over compete and train feverishly to become the very best, the top of the heap.  In corporate America, people huddle in little cubicles for long hours, putting in the extra time, giving their projects that extra bit of zing, doing whatever they can to set themselves apart from their co-workers.  This is a good thing, right?  After all, it is important for us to do our best.  Where would we be if we didn’t always strive for more: pushing ourselves, challenging ourselves?  The answer is simple, it definitely is important for us to do our very best, but that isn’t the same thing as trying to be “the best”.
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The Forest for the Trees

I don’t recall where I first heard it.  Perhaps my Grandfather whispered it in my ear, having watched me bowl headfirst into the side of the house, in hot pursuit of one toy or another.  Or maybe it was my Father; he would have had plenty of opportunities.  Maybe it was after he saw me standing frozen in the backfield during a flag football game, clutching the ball, watching the kid I was supposed to give it to run down the field without it.  The parents were screaming at me to run, but I didn’t get it.  I had forgotten that the goal of the game was to score points, forgotten that the only thing that really mattered on this play was that we gain yards.  My only thought was that I needed to hand the ball off, but now there was no one to hand the ball off to.  So I stood there holding the ball, with no idea what to do next.  It didn’t take long, of course, for the memory to return.  I remembered the goal of the game, the goal of the play.  So, I ran.  I ran hard and fast, but I ran out of room before I ran out of field -- out of bounds, just shy of the end zone.  The play was a huge success, but I knew I should have scored, and my Dad knew it to.  He could have told me then, but I don’t know if he did.  He could have wrapped his big arm around my little seven-year-old frame and said, “Craig, you just couldn’t see the forest for the trees.”  I would likely have stared blankly back at him, not understanding why we were talking about trees.  But he would have told me; he would have explained the thing we all need to know about forests, and their trees.  If I didn’t learn it then, I learned it soon after, in some other similar circumstance, but the point is I learned it. We all learn it.  That’s what makes it cliché.
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Weird Trumpet Books

When I was 9 years old, we moved into a house that had a music room.  I spent many hours in this room during my teenage years honing my skills, trying to realize my dream of being a professional trumpet player.  In this room there was also a lot of music – music that was filed away in an assorted mix of cabinets and drawers.  There was piano music, tuba music, vocal solos, barbershop arrangements, and, of course, trumpet music.  In my adolescent mind, the trumpet music was divided into two basic groups: music and weird trumpet books.  Weird trumpet books were the books with strange diagrams, photos of men breathing by unnatural means, notes extending far above and below the staff, and they were always peppered with claims of improved sound, range, and endurance.  I would thumb through these books, mystified.  They contained no music, only mundane exercises – whole notes and half notes extending in all directions.  I would read the text, try it for a while, and then go back to my regular music, convinced that there simply had to be something better I could be doing with my time.  Now, two decades later, my philosophy toward many of those books remains the same.  A select few of them, though, now hold hard-earned places in my routine, having proved themselves in the face of extreme skepticism.

The Carmine Caruso, Musical Calisthenics for Brass, is one of those books.  It includes exercises I regularly use to increase strength, and I consider it an essential part of my foundation routine.  How to use this book, however, is a matter of much debate.  Many people have conflicting views and interpretations of what constitutes the “proper” Caruso routine.  I don’t participate in that.  In fact, I don’t even have a Caruso routine.  Instead, I use this book as a collection of exercises – a resource for building range and endurance to the fullest extent.  I will scatter these exercises throughout the day, usually using only one or two.  If you are looking for the purest interpretation of Carmine Caruso’s ideas, you won’t find it here.  Instead, you will find a guide to a practical and sure-fire method for increasing strength and, as a result, range and endurance.
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LMI Basics

We are proud to say that LivMusic News has over 1300 subscribers from over 40 countries! However, a recent glance at statistics for LivMusic Interactive tells us that there have only been 15 comments made on the blog. You don’t have to be a mathematician to see that only a very small percentage of our subscribers are posting comments; in fact, you don’t even have to be five years old to see it. What could be the reason for this? Are our subscribers simply shy? Let’s see… 1300 trumpet players… shy? I’m thinking not. We believe there are two main reasons that there have been so few comments: the posting process is too involved/complicated, and you have questions or comments that don’t pertain to anything you are seeing on LivMusic. We have made changes to address these issues, and we hope this will make all of you want to throw in your “two cents” from time to time.
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RSS and LMI

Welcome to acronym central! Every time I encounter an article title like this, I am struck by the fact that there is still no game show where contestants have to correctly define the words that correspond to a given acronym. There could even be a bonus round, where the contestants would have to determine whether or not a particular word (or collection of letters) is an acronym. I can see it now: “I’ll take internet acronyms for $500, Alex!” But enough of my game-show fantasies.

Hopefully you already know that LMI is short for LivMusic Interactive, which is the title of the trumpet studio blog. What you may or may not know, though, is that RSS stands for Really Simple Syndication. There are other interpretations as well, but I am sticking with that one. Why should you care about RSS? There are many reasons, but one of the most compelling is that it gives you the ability to track changes and posts at all of your favorite websites and blogs. Of course, the website has to publish an RSS feed in order for you to do this, but that is becoming more and more standard.
[complete article]

 

Prada Jeans

Prada blue jeans:  I am flying across the country from Miami to California, and a man comes down the aisle wearing Prada blue jeans.  They’re blue, faded, a bit worn; they look comfortable but not stylish.  They are average, run-of-the-mill blue jeans.  So the question becomes, why Prada?  Are they better?  Blue jeanier?  Is it a status symbol?  If so, what is the status that it symbolizes?  Right now I am more inclined to think it portrays foolishness more than anything.  You have to be wondering why I am writing about blue jeans.  In fact, I am wondering myself, but I can’t tell you that.  I think the reason that it comes to mind has to do with how we use our resources.  Do not panic, this isn’t some random environmental rant, but rather, a common-sense tip for a life in music. 

Playing the trumpet is not likely going to make you rich – newsflash – but if you work hard and sacrifice yourself, you will find a reward, and you will be able to support yourself.  I make no promises about others, but you can support yourself.  Did I mention that you have to sacrifice yourself?  Bury yourself is more like it.  What about the Prada Jeans?
[complete article]

 

Sound Sculpting

Okay, visualize some music.  Got it?  Are you visualizing a piece of sheet music sitting on a stand?  If you are, you’re wrong; that’s paper.  Paper isn’t music.  Music at least consists of sound, right?   Come to think of it, what exactly is music?  Can we define it?  Music is an evasive thing.   When we try to pin it down with a definition, it squirms free, making our verbose attempt look silly and uninformed.  Webster’s dictionary defines music as follows:

Music
1 a : the science or art of ordering tones or sounds in succession, in combination, and in temporal relationships to produce a composition having unity and continuity
1 b: vocal, instrumental, or mechanical sounds having rhythm, melody, or harmony

Really?  The science or art of ordering tones…?  A composition having unity and continuity?  This definition defines something in which I would find very little interest, yet I have devoted my entire life to making music and am passionate about it.  I have a great deal of difficulty finding the music I am passionate about in the definition above.  I’m sure others would have the same problem.  There cannot be many composers who have ever viewed themselves as scientists who order tones, yet that is the way they are depicted here.  It is not often that we are able to see Webster’s words squirm with such apparent unease, but let us not be too judgmental; we would be hard pressed to do much better.  Yes, we might solve some of the obvious shortcomings of the definition above, but likely we would only find ourselves trapped in the confines of a much less luminous pit of conscious thought.  We may find, for example, that we have crafted a wonderful definition for the word “noise”, or worse, that our definition includes the words “pleasing and beautiful”.  Isn’t it ironic, having dedicated our lives to making music, that we experience such difficulty in trying to define exactly what music is?
[complete article]

 

A Tale of Two Selves

 

It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times...   I know what you are thinking.  However, this is not A Tale of Two Cities, and this story can be read in one sitting, rather than forcing you to miss an entire week of work to complete it.  This is a tale of two selves: one self, doing all of the work, pulling off miraculous stunts of timing and dexterity; the other self, barking commands, doling out criticism at a pace that would make a hummingbird weep, all the while remaining almost entirely ignorant as to how things actually get done.  In reality, this tale more closely resembles Cinderella than Dickens’ classic.   It is a tightly woven story about the inner conflict that runs within each of us every time we pick up a trumpet, or for that matter, any musical instrument.  We know this story well, for I am not the only author.  We each write it anew everyday, a constant running dialog between our conscious mind and our subconscious mind.
[complete article]

 

Stamping It Out (Part III)

If you began the Stamp routine when I first posted Stamping It Out (part I), you may be wondering why you have wasted your time on all this silliness while you could have actually been getting something accomplished in your practice routine.  Don’t worry, that is normal.  I felt the same way when I first began this routine, and I put it away for months before coming back to it and giving it a second chance.  You must have a great deal of patience while learning to play these exercises correctly, but we all know patience is a virtue, and it will not go unrewarded.
[complete article]

 

The Bell End

The trumpet has two ends.  You blow in the small one and sound comes out of the big one.  Earth-shattering news, I realize, but interestingly enough, many people pay too much attention to what goes in the little end, and not enough to what comes out the big one.  In the midst of all this talk about technique, we have clearly been focused on what goes in the small end of the instrument.  This, of course, is of extreme importance, but we must never lose sight of the fact that it is only what comes out of the bell of the instrument that has any musical significance.  It is so easy to get caught up in what goes into the instrument – the way to use the tongue, the air, the lips, the fingers, etc. – that we begin making judgments about our playing based on how it feels, rather than how it sounds.  Very often after a student plays something for me, I will ask a simple question, “What did you think?”  Almost always the response I get is something like, “Well, I didn’t feel like I took a good breath, and that caused my throat to close down again,” or, “ I was really stretching for the high C.  I just didn’t feel centered leading up to it.”  These observations are often correct, but troubling nonetheless.  [complete article]

 

Stamping It Out (Part II)

If you have been playing the Stamp Warm-Up for the first time over the last couple of weeks, you are probably either already feeling some benefit from it or you are cursing the day you ever started this exercise.  If you are in the latter group, take heart; it will get better with time, and these exercises will improve your playing.

In this article, we will begin to look at one of the principles that is a cornerstone to the Stamp philosophy: thinking down while playing up.  To speak more precisely, you will always be thinking in the direction opposite to the direction of the notes.  If the music has a D going down to a G, then you will think D up to a G.  “What kind of voodoo is this?” you may ask, “How is this supposed to help my playing?”  Perhaps a more detailed description will make this clearer. 
[complete article]

 

Fundamentally Speaking

We all know we should do it.  We have been told to practice our fundamentals since the day we began playing.  Some people do them, some people don’t.  If you do your daily fundamentals, then you know the benefits they provide, and if not, you will have to do them to learn how much they can help.  Even those who do practice their fundamentals religiously, however, may have found themselves in the position of playing through an articulation exercise every day, only to find that the clarity of the attack is not improving; or practicing lip flexibilities, only to struggle with the same issues day in and day out.  What is the problem?  We have always been told that doing these exercises will make these issues improve, so why isn’t it helping?  The answer can be found, of all places, in the woodwind section (Caution: throwing whatever you are holding at this article will only result in damage to your computer!).  More specifically, our answers lie in the practices of top-notch oboists and bassoonists. [complete article]

 

One Long G

I have a number of exercises that I like to use to develop strength, and I will address each of them in future articles.  For now, though, I will discuss an exercise I got from John Hagstrom during my time in Chicago.  This exercise originated, as he told it, from the great jazz trombonist, Tommy Dorsey.  The exercise is very simple in content: play a G in the staff, very softly, for as long as you can.  Eventually you will play it for an entire hour, but you have to build up to that.  At first you may be able to do it only for 5 or 10 minutes (or even less) before the embouchure gives out.  Find your starting point, and then gradually lengthen it over time until you can do it for an hour.  It is a simple exercise, but there are a few details that need to be addressed in order for us to get the full benefit from it and still avoid injury. [complete article]

 

Stamping It Out (Part I)

When it comes to establishing a daily routine and warm up, trumpet players are all over the map.  In spite of this fact, the Stamp Warm-Up routine has found its way into almost every player’s routine at some point.  Usually, it seems that people have just been introduced to one fragment of the routine, or one exercise.  The purpose of this article, though, is to introduce you to the entire warm up routine as I use it, and as I use it with my students.  When done properly, the Stamp routine can help a student work through inefficiencies in his technique, and allow him to play in a way that he could previously only imagine.  It is important to remember that I am not trying to pose as a “Stamp Expert” who knows every in and out of how James Stamp would have instructed a student to play.  Rather, I am presenting to you my ideas of how to use this routine in order to see real and tangible improvements in your playing.  The method has worked for me, and it has worked for my students.  It is because of these experiences that I have decided it is important to write this article. [complete article]

 

That Time of Year

by Craig Morris - LivMusic Trumpet Artist
February 16, 2005