In high school I admired trumpet players like Cat Anderson, Roy Eldridge, Louis Armstrong, Dizzy Gillespie, Al Hirt, Doc Severinsen, Harry James, and of course, Maynard Ferguson. Many young trumpeters tried to play like these gentlemen, especially up high. In college, I managed to play a few of Maynard’s arrangements, sometimes even sounding a little like him, but mostly I gave it the old college try.
A well-played high register passage can be thrilling, and even non-trumpet players might appreciate the strength and control it takes to execute it. There’s a certain similarity between playing extreme high notes and lifting heavy weights. Not everyone can do it, and those who can are often respected.
In grad school, I was privileged to play a concert under the famous cellist and conductor, Mstislav Rostropovich. The maestro said he wanted us to sound like a “brass band” at one point in the finale of Tchaikovsky’s fifth symphony. After the concert, a section mate asked me, “how can you play so loudly?” I replied in two words, “Marching Band.” By the way, the audience reaction to the brass section was overwhelmingly positive, so it seemed the maestro was right. Sometimes playing loud enough is like hitting a home run.
For a long time, trumpet players have been known for their ability to play loud. According to legend, in the early days of jazz, Buddy Bolden could be heard across the wide Mississippi River. To be honest, trumpet players tend to stand out even when they’re playing soft. The tone of the instrument isn’t conducive to blending in. While some instrumentalists might be able to hide in the texture of an orchestra, it doesn’t take a degree in music to hear when one of the trumpet players makes a mistake. If you want to remain in the background, don’t play a trumpet!
When I directed jazz bands, I noticed that audiences often liked the fast tunes best. Count Basie’s “Wind Machine” and Sonny Rollins’ “Airegin” come to mind. In the classical world, “Flight of the Bumblebee” is a perennial favorite. Just as sports fans like a good footrace, or any race really, audiences like a good display of musical acrobatics. Even people who don’t like bebop can appreciate the skill it takes to play hundreds of notes per minute.
All of that said, we shouldn’t mistake being able to play higher, louder, or faster with playing better. In golf, there is an old saying. “Drive for the show, but putt for the dough.” It’s often the little things that make the most difference. I still appreciate those who can play higher, louder, and faster, but I have a special place in my heart for those who can play with passion and elegance. I have a pantheon of artists in my head who play or sing with such taste and finesse that I call their work, “exquisite.” Higher, louder, and faster simply can’t move me the way these artists can. The original reason I bought CDs was not for the big, bombastic pieces, but for the small, subtle moments that used to get lost in the surface noise of records.
Just as we can’t help but notice the higher, louder, and faster aspects of music, we’re innundated with interminable chatter and gossip in all types of media. There are shrill, provocative voices whose talking points stand out like high notes in a trumpet solo. There are loud, barking voices that seem to believe if they can’t make their points with evidence and reason, they can always drown out their opponents. And there are fast-talking con artist types who lie quickly and repeatedly. If we’re not vigilant, we won’t be able to fend off their lies.
Propaganda works this way: exaggerate, tell big lies, boldly and often, and tell so many lies so fast that few can keep up. Many people will either give up on finding the truth or will believe the higher, louder, and faster over the nuanced, factual, and well-reasoned. If we want the truth, we need to listen carefully and search beyond higher, louder, and faster. The truth is in the little things. There we might find the still, small voice of God.
MurrayWorks 