30. It's YOUR Song

Most people die with their music still locked up inside them.

― Benjamin Disraeli

Two weeks ago I did a post on "Story," the first of three things that composer, arranger, and educator Stanley Curtis on his blog Trumpet Journey calls the three "S"s. These are what he sees as the three key elements all great trumpet players have in common. They are simply

• Story
• Song and
• Support

Let's look at the second thing- Song!

Curtis wrote:

This is how we play what we play. This song can be sung with heart-on-the-sleeve romanticism, laser-beam clarity, or rhetorical interpretation. This is our personal song we sing on the trumpet when we play. Each of our voices are different–and they should be. Our song is the meeting place of our phrasing, our interpretation, our experience and, of course, our tone. I learned a beautiful lesson about tone from a former colleague of mine, the great euphonium player named Roger Behrend. He said it helps him to think about tone in terms of color, texture and taste. So, for instance, if you are thinking about maroon, velvet and chocolate, you get an especially luxurious sound. Or, perhaps you’re thinking golden, rough and with the taste of jambalaya, like I do, when I hear [Louis Armstrong]...

How we play what we play.
Just starting with that idea is enough to put it into a framework. Miles Davis famously said:

You hear three notes and you know it's Herb Alpert.

While some argue about the possible meaning, there is enough circumstantial evidence to indicate this was not a condemnation of Alpert. Instead it is a way of saying that Herb knew (and still knows) what his song is. One could certainly say the same about Davis or Chet Baker or Louis Armstrong. In every performance, in every recording, you can, in one way or another, hear the underlying song of the musician.

No- that does not mean that all the songs they do sound alike. Far from it. It's the jambalaya Curtis mentions in Armstrong. It's the California Cool in Chet Baker. It's a life of daring and innovation driving Davis. It is a curious spirituality in Coltrane. It's how they play.

The song we sing on the trumpet when we play
The song is your story. The song, as you play it, tells who you are. Now, I don't want to make too much of this. It isn't all that evident in those of us who aren't full-time professionals. Or maybe it is. Think about your playing. Think about how you play. Most of us have our "style" regardless of the music. Pay attention to it. is it you? Have fun with it in your practice room. You will notice yourself being more consistent.

The meeting place of our

• phrasing
• interpretation
• experience
• tone

That's really the crux of it.


What about me? What is my song? How do I play what I play? I never thought of that until reading Curtis' post. But then again, I knew it in my intuitive self. It started- and continues today, 55 years later- with one song- "When the Saints Go Marching In". I can now play that in all 12 major keys! (Some keys way more slowly than others!) I have at least 50 various versions of the song in my iTunes library from Dixieland to Bluegrass to "classical." Closely related to it is "Amazing Grace." I have around 90 variations of that song. Throw in "Tijuana Taxi/Spanish Flea" for some color and you can hear my song. It's how I play what I play.

What I have is blues and jazz, American gospel,  a sense of gratitude and joy. I wrap that into everything I play. It is not a surprise that the only song I have a solo on in either big band is "Basin Street Blues." My favorite solo piece for concert band is the (for me) blues-driven "Song Without Words" from Holst's 2nd Military Suite. I can probably hear that in my style from time to time when playing a Bach chorale, Moravian hymn, or Gabrieli's "Canzon #2."

So what? Always an important question. What difference does it make if I know this or not?

Does my song change? Do I play a different song today than I did 55 years ago, or even 10 years ago? For me, no. But the song does find different interpretations, tone, phrasing- all based on the changing of my experiences. Remember, the "song" is the meeting place of all those things. It is how the story gets told.

It is yours!

Don't lose it- and don't let it stay locked up inside you.

28. Your Story

Music is philosophy. Every chord, every word tells a story. If you listen you will know its meaning.

-Kamanda Ndama (African Musician, Philosopher, Poet and Songwriter

Composer, arranger, and educator Stanley Curtis has a post on his blog Trumpet Journey that talks about the three "S"s, the three key elements he believes all great trumpet players have. They are simply

• Story
• Song and
• Support

As to the first, Story, Curtis writes:

Each of us has a unique story. That story may be an actual account of some event, or even the story of our life. But we also have our own stories that we keep coming back to, such as “beauty is great,” or “old things are cool” or “technology is what I’m about.” These are our thematic points that our choices point to.

Some might say that part of the "story" is your own personal mission statement, your view of what it is you see as your life's mission. That is your guiding principle. Most of us never think much about that, but we all live our personal "Theme and Variations" in what we do and how we go about our lives.

Most of us are more than familiar with the Arban's "Variations on Carnival of Venice." There's an introduction, the theme and then the incredible variations. Another famous similar composition is Charles Ives' "Variations on America". Throughout each composition the basic theme repeats, of course, but all kinds of styles and flourishes are added. For the listener the goal is to see the connections with the  original theme. For the performer and/or composer it is to make those connections real and interesting without going so far afield that the original concept is lost.

That's the "story" we each continue to "riff" on as we go through our lives. Sometimes the riff is fast and furious, putting as much energy as we can into it. Other times it slows down and floats along with ease. Then it switches to a minor key or some odd set of tonalities. Yet, underneath it is "you", your theme. As Curtis says above this "theme" or "story" is what informs the choices and that these choices support.

He goes on:

Choices about repertoire, style, equipment, venues, and even the clothes we wear when we perform can help create our own story and the story that each generation needs to hear. Many players perform to a story that is going on inside their heads. As listeners, we can sense that something dramatic is happening.

Choices. We all make them all the time. Most of the time we don't even think about them. Most of the time the choices we make fall into the pattern of our story. It's who we are. Why did we choose to play trumpet, instead of any of the other instruments? How does "being a trumpet player" fit into our view of our story? Why did we continue to play the trumpet? Many people learn to play instruments but many quit after college, if not before.

Last year at trumpet camp there were those who are planning on making music their career, while others will have other professions. Yet there is something about the trumpet that obviously fits our individual stories. Why?

That's the choice. It helps define us. It fills a place in our lives that nothing else quite does. How then do we tell that story in our music?

Think about your story. What is it? Where do you want to go? How does music help you do that? How does that come out in your music? Spend some time reflecting on that and practice your story this week.

-Link for above quotes from Trumpet Journey

16. Making It a Story

Where words fail, music speaks.

― Hans Christian Andersen

Who knows what Frank Foster had in mind when he wrote the wonderful Blues in Hoss' Flat or what Count Basie thought as he put together the band playing the number? It is a fine tune with lots of style, flair and pure joy. Most of us don't think much about the meaning behind the songs we hear or play, especially if they are instrumental. It is just a song.

But don't say that too loud. Music has probably been telling stories since the first cave dweller pounded in some sort of primitive time. Last year at the Big Band Camp at Shell Lake we did the Blues in Hoss' Flat. But first we watched this video- a classic by Jerry Lewis from his movie, The Errand Boy. Take a couple minutes and enjoy it.

Lewis is, of course, pantomiming a "chairman of the board" leading a meeting. Does it help to know that the original Basie album was titled Chairman of the Board? Even if it doesn't, Lewis' interpretation is a wonder to watch. I can never hear the number without this pantomime playing in my head as well.

My first real introduction to "serious" music appreciation was back in junior high (dates me, huh?) when the music teacher dropped the needle at the start of an instrumental piece. She gave us the simple instruction, "What do you hear?" No name, no introduction, just that question. Through the speaker came the opening bars of one of the great works of American music of the 20th Century, An American in Paris. It didn't take me long, even with my 7th grade ears, to hear a street scene, car horns and soon I saw people scurrying to and fro. After a few minutes, she stopped and asked what we heard. I don't remember what anyone else said. I'm not sure I even said anything myself. But when she told us the name and what Gershwin was doing I was blown away.

I had heard the story in the music. I had heard what the composer was trying to tell me without having words get in the way. That one day in class 55 years ago changed my life. I don't always hear stories in the music I listen to. Sometimes I look at the name a composer gave to a song and try to put it to the music. For example, I don't know what Miles had in mind when he titled one of his numbers, Solar. But I hear the sun and energy, light and bright skies when I listen. But then Bruce Hornsby, Christian McBride, and Jack Dejohnette put a different arrangement of the same song on their album, Camp Meeting. Now the sun and light and energy are placed in a different context. I still see the power and light, but now it's in the spiritual context of a tent or camp meeting. Same notes, same basic song - but now a whole new story is being told.

Isn't that what we try to do when we play? More on this sometime in the new year. For the next few weeks spend some quality time listening to instrumentals, stories without words, and find the stories they tell you.