Dear Bud,

The news of your passing today came as a shock to me, and I have spent a good deal of time reflecting on the time that I was fortunate enough to spend with you both on and off stage. That time will always rate as some of the most memorable and valuable experiences I have had in my life. I will never forget walking onto the stage of Orchestra Hall, a young 4th trumpet player as green as could be. You were the first one to come over and say hello, and I will always remember the words you said to me…

The impact you have had on me as a musician and a person is immeasurable and I owe you so much that I never got to repay.

Your sound still resonates solidly in my head today, and I can hear you telling me stories as vividly as if you were sitting here right next to me. What I learned in my time playing in your section provided lessons that will last as long as I am able to hold up a trumpet, while other lessons I learned from you require no music and no trumpet at all. You have inspired people in ways that you could never imagine, and the world is most definitely a richer place because of your enormous contributions. You will be sorely missed.

Thank you for the inspiration
Thank you for the guidance
Thank you for the music

Rest in peace.

My grand orchestral experiment of 2011-12 has now officially come to an end, and it has left me with some great performance experiences and some hard-earned clarity in my career. Since winning the audition for principal trumpet in the St. Louis Symphony last September, life has been interesting, slightly heady, and overwhelmingly hectic! In the end, I will not be assuming the principal job in St. Louis, but will be staying put in Miami as the trumpet professor and chair of the Instrumental Performance Department at the Frost School of Music. So how does this make me feel? Well, playing principal trumpet with this fantastic orchestra has been a true honor, but it has also been clear to me since the very beginning of my trial weeks that this just wasn’t the right fit. I was trying to pound the proverbial round peg into a square hole, and no matter what I did, it didn’t change the basic problem: wrong hole, wrong peg.

The truth is, I have a really wonderful job at a vibrant and cutting edge school of music, a job that allows me the freedom and flexibility to pursue my own artistic projects while also furthering and supporting the artistic goals of my students and colleagues. The artistic energy I feel when I show up at work each day is positive and tangible, and in this crazy 21st century musical world, that is a very important thing. I work at a place that believes that new projects should not only be born but thrive, where barriers are meant to be broken or overcome, and where there is always room for a new idea. Quite simply, it’s the right home for me. I would be crazy to leave.

There are some people who will be really surprised by this turn of events, while there are others who could have predicted it from well before I even won the audition. The truth is, though, that this is the right thing for the orchestra and it’s the right thing for me. There is certainly nothing wrong with that.

I am thankful to my friends and colleagues in the St. Louis Symphony for the opportunity to explore this position. I will take away many fond memories from my time with this orchestra. It is an extraordinary group of people both artistically and personally, and I wish them nothing but the best in all of their future artistic pursuits. It’s nice to know that an orchestra like this exists in the world. Thanks for having me along for the ride.

Onward.

Sitting here at my gate — waiting for my flight to board — I have been afforded the opportunity (thanks to an American Airlines flight delay) to reflect a bit on some recent and upcoming performances.

I am excited to be headed to St. Louis to play principal trumpet with the St. Louis Symphony this week. And with Wagner’s “Parsifal” and “Harmonium” by John Adams on the docket, there is certainly plenty of playing to be done. If you don’t know Harmonium, be sure to check it out. It’s a wonderful piece.

The airport has been a familiar place for me lately, given that I just returned a couple of days ago from giving a recital and master class at the Trumpet Festival of the Southeast. Brandon Craswell, at the University of Georgia, did a wonderful job hosting this festival, and it was a success in every way. As for me, I really enjoyed playing the recital, which featured a program of pieces that I had never performed before. Given the feedback I received, the program seemed to be a success, and I’m looking forward to repeating it in the near future. One piece I don’t know if I’ll get to repeat soon, though, is the Yves Chardon Sonata for Trumpet in D and Violoncello. I was very lucky that my dear friend (and Atlanta Symphony cellist) Jen Humphreys had the night off and was willing to make the trek out to Athens, Georgia to play at a trumpet festival (of all things)! I had a fantastic time playing this piece and the audience seemed to enjoy it a great deal. If you get the chance to program it, I highly recommend it.

For now, though, I think it is time that this delay comes to an end. I have enjoyed writing, but I think it is relatively important that I actually make it to St. Louis for rehearsal tomorrow. Fingers crossed…

It is that time of year again. Summer is screaming to a close and I find myself back at the Cabrillo Festival of Contemporary Music for more challenging and inspiring music and music making. For me, this festival is always a welcome end to my summer because it provides a much needed recharge of the artistic batteries that can tend to fade in sweltering Miami summers, especially when the rest of life creeps in and demand your attention. In fact, this summer I went into a bit of a self-imposed online exile (if you follow me on Twitter or Facebook you may have noticed), but now I am back in Santa Cruz, the weather is cool, rehearsals are underway, and I find myself back at one of my favorite Santa Cruz spots — Lulu Carpenter’s — enjoying a fabulous latte; I’m already feeling more energized.

Rehearsals for the festival are underway, with the first full orchestra rehearsal last night. This festival is Marin Alsop’s 20th anniversary as music director here and the festival promises to be extraordinary. Last night we began rehearsing pieces for the performance on Saturday night (Aug. 6). The bulk of the rehearsal was taken up with a piece that Marin discovered while conducting in Japan. The piece is by Shuko Mizuno — a composer that was unknown to me prior to this festival (here is a page with some info on Mizuno — and is fittingly titled “Summer”. It is a fascinating piece that captivates with an aggressive Neo-Romanticism: moments of great beauty are followed by passages of clamorous intensity. This piece is probably the most physical piece of the whole festival for me, which means that the tradition of starting this festival with a chop busting first rehearsal is alive and well.

This afternoon we tackle music from Friday night’s performance, which features music by Christopher Rouse, Mason Bates, James MacMillan, and Margaret Brouwer. It promises to be another demanding rehearsal, but I am really looking forward to hearing the music. As for now, it’s time to finish this latte and go warm up, I have a feeling my face will appreciate that.

{ fin }

I know the life of a performing artist appears glamorous at times — doing something you are passionate about in front of an adoring audience, traveling the world, being immersed in a creative art form, etc. — but appearances, as always, can be deceiving. I was reflecting on this very fact last night while trudging in the pouring rain across an acre-wide, flooded parking lot, wearing my black suit, no umbrella, and with a heel broken off of one shoe. The concert I had just completed had gone fine, but that was the only consolation from a night where I:

1. Started warming up and felt like playing the trumpet was the single most difficult thing ever undertaken by man.
2. Had the heel of my left shoe inexplicably fall off while walking backstage just prior to going on stage.
3. Played well, but felt like I was in a death-cage match against Attila the Hun.
4. Forgot to acknowledge the composer for the brass quintet we performed.
5. Came out of the hall to find monsoon conditions had once again arrived in South Florida…
6. … and realized my umbrella was in my car, which was about a half mile away across the aforementioned flooded parking lot.

I am very fortunate to have the life I do. I love music, my job, performing, collaborating with talented and creative people, and all of the great things that come along with it, but the sacrifices are immense and the glamour? Uh…. no. Not so much.