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.

Even more incredible, however, are the performances themselves. They aren’t all spectacular, though some of them should definitely have you scurrying to your practice room, but they are all interesting in one way or another. Some students arrive dressed in suits or formal dresses, others in jeans and sandals (not the best choice for a good impression on the judge). Some walk in confidently, shaking the judge’s hand and introducing themselves, while others enter quietly, as if they don’t want to be seen. The students come from a wide array of racial, cultural, and economic backgrounds. Some of them sport shiny new professional level instruments, while others arrive with something that looks like it was bought for $50 at a local garage sale. But almost every one of these students shares common bonds: they care about music, and they care about playing their instrument. Sure, some of them care more than others, and some of them are not blissfully in love with playing their instrument, but they all care on one level or another. They have all made sacrifices to attend. They have chosen to practice instead of watching TV, talking on the phone, or playing a video game. They have spent many hours refining their solo, trying to make it the best that they can. They have experienced the frustration of continued failure and the joy of the unexpected breakthrough. In addition to this, there is the matter of their attendance. After all, they are present and accounted for. They have chosen to dedicate their Memorial Day Weekend to one short performance of 5-10 minutes in a place that for some of them is over 500 miles away. They could have gone to the lake, to the beach, to a movie with friends, or on an outing with their family, but they have shunned theses things, and instead have traveled to Austin, Texas, where they sit chewing their nails in nervous anticipation of the performance that awaits them. Of all the things I observed as a judge, the mere presence of all these people is perhaps the most meaningful. Some of the students would be very quick to point out that this competition is not a big deal, that playing their instrument is not so important to them. We can’t necessarily believe everything they say, however. After all, it is seldom cool to admit that you are gaga over playing your trombone. But at the end of the day, where are they? What choice did they make for how to spend their weekend? That’s right, they are at the competition. It’s another classic example of actions speaking louder than words.

So what’s the point? You understand it’s a nice competition, but why write an article about it and broadcast it to trumpet players all over the globe? The point is about passion and significance. In this day and age of pop media rule, of techno-gadgets and video games, where we are we brusquely informed about what is cool and what is not, it can be very easy to feel as if playing an instrument is simply not that significant anymore, as if we are exercising some ancient ritual that is getting more and more detached from the pace of modern life. But before you put playing a musical instrument in the Museum of Ancient Human Hobbies, remember these things: one state, three days, 12,000 performances. Also remember that all of the performances were given by teenagers – the same people that are the painted by the media as self-absorbed, iPod using, video game playing slackers, whose lack of work ethic and morality surely signal the end of civilization as we know it. This, however, we know cannot be true. I took a long, hard look around while walking the halls at TSSEC. I saw students with a purpose, students with a cause. These young people have worked hard to hone their musical abilities in order to display them in the best possible light. Some have succeeded, some have failed, but all of them are making a statement: playing a musical instrument is important; it is worth making sacrifices.

The next time you start feeling like playing the trumpet is an obscure obsession, the type shared only by stick-horse jockeys and professional Scrabble players, just remember these numbers: 12,000 and 3. Remind yourself of the sacrifices, the hard work, the frustration, and think too about the joy of a performance that exceeds expectations. Think again about that last weekend in May, where a bunch of Texas teenagers remind us about the value of making music that is all your own. Remember these things when you are lost in the blinding array of modern marketing and gadgetry. There are a lot of wonderful things in our world today, but no matter how you draw it, it is certainly clear, playing a musical instrument remains firmly entrenched as a valued pursuit in our fast-forward world.

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.

This doesn’t mean that you should always stick to your plan. Indeed, there are many times when something comes up that absolutely warrants a change in what you practice, or when. Sometimes the occasion is joyous, sometimes tragic; sometimes it is simply a matter of necessity. Whatever it is, it takes priority, and you simply must adjust your schedule. The magic word here is priority.

You must have a very clear idea of your priorities. You need to know what is absolutely pertinent and what is a passing whim. If you succumb to too many day-to-day desires then you won’t be able to maximize your potential. On the other hand, if you lock yourself in your practice room every day and do nothing but practice all day, then you won’t have any life experience to express through your music. It can be a tricky balance, and, in the end, you are the one that has to be comfortable with the decisions you have made; it is your life, after all. You will be the one that has to decide if it is more important to go out with your friends or get in that evening practice session. You must choose between giving your friends or family a helping hand, or staying home and lending your helping hand to your career. Sometimes you will be able to find a way to do both, other times you will not. Knowing what to do comes down to the priorities you have made for your life.

Sit down right now and make a list of priorities. List 5-10 things that are of the utmost importance in your life. The list should include things like: immediate family, extended family, boyfriend/girlfriend, school, job, trumpet, and other hobbies or interests. As best you can, order them in order of their importance to you. Warning: if you put trumpet ahead of important people on this list, you may want to rethink your priorities, or at the very least, keep the list to yourself! Now, take your list and estimate the amount of time per week you need to spend on each item in order to achieve your goals for that item. Make a second list based on these weekly time requirements. This list is your list of practical priorities. The items at the top of this list are the items you have the least flexibility with, simply because they are the ones that demand the most time. They may not be the things that you care the most about, but they are the things that will take the most consideration the next time something threatens to derail your daily plans. Try to maintain your schedule for the things on the top of this list, because they will be the things that will be the hardest to fit in later.

With these lists in hand, draw up a schedule for your week. First, put in anything that is required and has no flexibility, e.g. work, school, appointments, etc. Now, begin filling in the gaps. Start with the top thing on your list of practical priorities, schedule it in at the ideal times, and then proceed accordingly down the list. Once you have plotted times for every item on your list, you can fill in the rest of your schedule with other responsibilities and desires according to their importance.

In the end, these lists will help you think about what is really important in your life. They will help you create a schedule that will lead you to fulfilling all of your important goals. Of course, as we all know, life can be demanding in surprising ways. Always maintain the flexibility to be able to adapt your schedule to whatever curve ball life has thrown at you. It is these types of on-the-fly decisions that can greatly affect your overall productivity, for better or worse.

The next time that very important “something” comes careening into your life, think about your list of priorities and decide where it fits in. Decide if it is really as important as it seems, or if it is merely one more in an endless stream of self-important distractions. Look at it carefully. Weigh your options. Remember, it is always something — something standing between you and your dreams.

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.

Fortunately, most players make the needed adjustments for chords to “ring” quite naturally. For those of you that would prefer not to leave things to instinct, though, there are a few quick and easy rules that you can use to make various chords sound their best. As I have already mentioned, any time there is a perfect fifth, the fifth should be raised relative to the root. In addition, the third in a major chord should be lowered slightly, and the third of a minor chord should be raised slightly. Following these simple rules will lead to chords that sound purer and more resonant. When we use a tuner, however, it is possible to let it override all of this by simply concentrating on centering the needle. This results in chords that lack sparkle and vibrancy. For example, if you are playing a melody that contains an E over a C major chord, then that E will need to be slightly low in order for it to sound in tune. The tuner, however, will tell you it is flat: about 27 cents flat to be precise. Conversely, if you are playing an E over an A major chord, then the E will have to be raised in order for it to sound in tune. The tuner, however, would disagree with your assessment and inform you that you are in fact playing the E sharp. Don’t listen to it! It is not always your friend.

Okay, so now you know that you may have to “disagree” with your tuner in order to play certain chords and melodies in tune, but the adjustment is simple. You deftly adjust the appropriate members of the chord the correct amount, and everything is fine. Any other information you get from your tuner can be counted on for its utter infallibility. The machine rules the day again, right? Well… not exactly. There is more to the fallibility of the tuner that needs to be discussed.

If you are accustomed to playing a note and then looking at the tuner to determine whether you are in tune or not, it is possible you are being misled to a surprising degree. Even if we don’t consider any of the “chord effect” intonation issues mentioned above, our tuner may be giving us information that is downright deviant. How can this be? Simple. A tuner is designed to determine the frequency of a pitch. It then compares that frequency to the “correct” frequencies programmed in its memory and shows you the result with its indicator. How can that be deviant? Well, in truth, it isn’t deviant. The tuner isn’t giving us inaccurate information, and it isn’t intentionally misleading us. The problem really arises in its ignorance or, truthfully speaking, in ours.

One thing no tuner has a concept of is how centered any particular note you play may be. If, for instance, you pull out your slide to where your instrument is tuned 30 cents flat, and then you play 30 cents sharp, the tuner will register a beaming “you-are-in-tune!” The truth, though, is that we are anything but in tune. We are actually 30 cents flat and sharp at the same time! The instrument is flat, but our technique is sharp; both things need to be corrected. The answer is obvious: push the slide in, and play in the center of the note, rather than pinching everything sharp. But if we follow our tuner’s indicator and leave everything alone, we are headed for sure disaster. To be fair, this is clearly much more our problem than our tuner’s, and we need to accept the sole responsibility of playing our instrument in an efficient and centered manner.

At this point it should be clear: your tuner is not always giving you accurate information. So the question becomes, what do we do about it? Do we simply give in to that urge to throw it on the floor and gleefully trounce it with our repeated jumping? After all, we now understand that any information it gives us is highly suspect and potentially damaging! Again… not exactly. Take off your spiked shoes and listen for just a bit longer.

Your tuner should still hold a prized place on (or near) your music stand. It is important to remember that a tuner is a tool: nothing more, nothing less. It does not think or judge; it simply provides data. It is our job to interpret that data and use it in one way or another. Our ability to interpret needs to be learned and refined so that we can use this tool to our benefit, rather than our detriment. If you play a note into your tuner and it indicates that you are sharp, then you should think about the role of that note in the melody or chord in which it occurs. You should pay attention to the way you are playing the note and see whether it is the horn or your technique that needs to be adjusted. Also, don’t forget that tuners can be calibrated. It could be that the ensemble you play in tunes to A=442hz. If your tuner is calibrated to A=440hz, then when you practice with your tuner, your horn will register as sharp. This, of course, is only partially accurate. The tuner has no clue that you have been tuning to an ensemble that plays at A=442; it simply tells you that you are sharp compared to the A=440 that it is set to.

In the end, pitch is relative, as is the information we get from our tuner. Playing with good intonation is an art of relativity. Your pitch needs to be good relative to other players, other chord members, and even relative to yourself. So resist the urge to huck your tuner directly into the trash. It can be a very effective tool for clearing the oft-muddled waters of intonation. But it will be up to you — your mind and your ears — to make it serve any use whatsoever.

Some people may be wondering why I have had nothing more to say regarding the controversy created by the Chicken Little article. Perhaps my silence is being viewed as some kind of statement, or a reflection on how I feel about the subject. This couldn’t be further from the truth.

What my silence indicates is simply this: my 10 year old son from California is here for his Spring Break, and I am going to spend every minute I can with him. As always, it’s all about priorities, and mine are with family. I’ll be back and writing soon, although I don’t know that Chicken Little will be at the top of my list of topics. I guess we will have to wait and see. Until then…

Well, I seem to have raised a stir. That’s good. The amount of thought and discussion regarding my Chicken Little article is a good thing. In many ways, that is one of the key purposes of this website: to present ideas, to challenge people to think outside the lines, and, hopefully, to inspire people to continue their pursuit of mastering the instrument.

That being said, it is important to make a few clarifications regarding this particular article. Many people understand this article perfectly, exactly as it is, and many people do not. Because of that, I want to make my intent perfectly clear, no satire involved.

The Chicken Little article was not written for the extremely talented young players that are able to compete for, and win, the most prestigious orchestra jobs in the country. It was written for the 99.9% of the trumpet community who are forced to endure a sometimes endless struggle just to try to make a living. Some people understand this article to be about bashing talented young trumpet players like Matthew Muckey. That is not my intent at all, and if the article is read carefully, without bias, it is very clear. That without bias thing, however, is not always easy to do.

Many of you would be surprised to know that I worked with Matt when he was in the San Francisco Symphony Youth Orchestra, in fact, I was the one who he auditioned for in order to get in. He was a 15 year old kid from Sacramento who came in and blew our minds. Every week, he made the 2 plus hour trip into San Francisco in order to play in the Youth Orchestra. He worked hard, played well, and was an extremely valuable member of a very talented trumpet section. Matt is truly talented. Matt is also extremely focused, hard working, and a really nice guy. The most important thing I will say in this post comes next. Get out your magic marker, set up your tape recorder, whatever you need to do, this is as plain and straightforward as I can say it:

Matthew Muckey deserves this job. He has earned it. He showed me at 15 years old that he had the ability to win a job like this someday. I have no doubt that he will go on to have an incredibly successful career, wherever it takes him. He has made plenty of sacrifices to get to this level, and they have paid off. My hat goes off to Matt, and I wish him the warmest and most heartfelt congratulations. However, this article was not written for Matt. It was written for everybody else besides those few who sail from school into elite jobs without seeming to even break a sweat.

I have been in the trenches. I have friends there. I have students there. I know people that have sacrificed everything they could possibly think of to win any orchestra job, and never succeeded. I know people that are extremely talented and gifted musicians that never quite had the fortune of things going their way, or never found a solution to that one particular problem that kept getting them cut. I know people that have foregone successful careers in business to try to make a run at an orchestral career, only to have their hopes and dreams stomped into oblivion. To these people, Matt Muckey is a heart breaker, a dream ender: not Matt himself, but what his statistics say. To anyone not talented enough to win a post in a top five orchestra before they finish their undergraduate degree — and that is almost all of us — talented young people like Matt can be just the thing that makes us throw our arms up in despair and abandon our dreams. If you are in this group, Chicken Little is for you. It says forget your age, forget whether you are behind or ahead, and follow your dream. Follow it until you realize it just isn’t your dream anymore, then find another one, get on, and ride it for all it is worth.

Oh yeah, and just in case you are curious, I knew exactly who Matt was when I heard the news, and before I wrote the article. And to whatever extent I can be proud of him, I truly am! (although I have no clue if I ever taught him anything worth remembering in that year of coaching his trumpet section. Maybe he can tell you.)

So congratulations Matt Muckey! You have done something that is truly extraordinary. And to those of you that despair over the news of someone so young achieving so much, take heart, your day may be yet to come.