I woke this morning to the tragic and shocking news that Fred Mills, former cornerstone of the Canadian Brass and Trumpet Professor at the University of Georgia, was killed last night in a car accident.

I never had the pleasure of meeting Fred. He was one of those people looming in the trumpet community who I hold in the highest esteem, one who leaves a deep impression on those he touches, but one who I had never actually met. I always knew that at some point I would get to meet him as we both journeyed along this narrow, trumpet-filled musical path. Sadly, I was wrong.

I still remember the day I first heard Fred Mills play, though. My Dad came bounding through the front door one afternoon with a gleaming new record (yes, a record) under his arm. “You have to hear this,” he said. So I listened. And I listened some more. In some ways, I feel like I never stopped listening. It was a recording of the Canadian Brass playing the Tocatta and Fugue in D Minor by J.S. Bach, and if ever there was a landmark recording in the brass world, I would say that was it. The recording was sensational; the buzz surrounding the recording was off the charts. Up to that point, I had never heard any brass group play on that level. They seemed to set a new bar for what was possible on a brass instrument. The level of virtuosity, especially in the trumpets, was staggering. The recording inspired me. It made me aware that there was so much more I could do on my instrument than I was doing at the time. I was a good high school trumpet player when I first heard it, but after hearing it, I started to truly understand the limits of simply being a good high school trumpet player. I knew there were bigger mountains to climb and a lot of talented people climbing them; if I was going to be competitive then I would have to raise my game. It was that simple.

That recording opened my eyes both musically and professionally. It inspired me to dig deeper and to try harder. Of course there were reams of fantastic recordings and performances that followed, but for me, that recording was it. It was a defining moment.

So on this day of sadness in our trumpet community, I would like to extend my sincerest condolences to Fred’s family and friends. They have suffered an enormous loss. And to Fred… Well, if there were some way to turn back the clock — watching the paths of our lives retreat into days gone by — I would go back and make a slight detour, just a little jaunt out of the way, to a point where our paths crossed, and to where I could extend a hand and offer the warmest and most sincere thank you I can muster. His work touched people all over the world in ways that he could never have imagined, and I for one, am incredibly grateful.

Rest in Peace Fred Mills. You will be missed.

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