“You must go see Whiplash.” So, I ventured out on a chilly Chicago Sunday and caught the acclaimed movie about a talented young drummer and the tyrannical jazz director who controls his fate. The movie was not what I expected, but I have thought about it many times in the weeks since.
    In some ways, the movie lived up to the breathless reviews it has received in some publications. The acting throughout was superb. Veteran actor J.K. Simmons spits poison and fury with every line, creating one of the unforgettable characters of the past year. Miles Teller, who has given fine performances in many film adaptations of popular young adult novels, does excellent work here as the jazz drummer with an obsessive drive to make his conservatory’s top jazz band.
    It was particularly refreshing to see a movie celebrate excellence in musical performance. Movies and television programs so frequently portray student musicians as a punchline with hopelessly sloppy playing and non-existent intonation. The jazz in Whiplash is crisp and exciting, which may explain why many people who do not enjoy jazz found the film so engaging. The problem arises when the early realism in the film drifts into preposterous territory.
    Although the old school brand of directing probably still exists in many places, it is doubtful that any educator could get away with the endless stream of obscenities, slurs, and cruelty inflicted on the students at fictional Shaffer Conservatory. Screenwriter and director Damien Chazelle has said that he drew on his high school experiences and added inspiration from Buddy Rich and other demanding bandleaders of the past. Chazelle is certainly entitled to bit of creative license in bringing youthful traumas to life. However, when our young hero crashes a rental car on the way to a gig and performs while covered in blood, the movie has become a waking nightmare.
     Maybe there are directors like Whiplash’s Terrence Fletcher who continue to terrorize their ensembles. There certainly are many war stories about the demanding college and professional conductors of the past, so there must be some disciples teaching as they were taught. In the sports world, the clash between the old and new schools of coaching continues to this day. This year’s college football championship was won by a coach who was once so insanely devoted to his job that he ended up in the hospital after a particularly stunning defeat in the SEC championship game. The Super Bowl was a battle between unsmiling, unamused Bill Belichick and meditating, perpetually sunny (at least until the game ended) Pete Carroll. Do nice guys finish last? This year, the answer is yes.
    To see how a legendary director from an earlier generation handled his duties, take a look at Steve Peterson’s reflections on rehearsals with John Paynter in this issue. This essay is excerpted from an outstanding new publication conceived and shepherded by composer and conductor Mark Camphouse and published by GIA. Although Paynter’s name graced our pages for decades as an author and music reviewer, some younger directors may not know of him.
    He lived and worked at a time when the old-school approach was thriving in music education, but John Paynter never needed to raise his voice. Everybody was already listening. His mastery and passion for the music inspired everybody.
    The magic of music education takes place in rehearsal rooms every day, without shouting or insults. Too bad the movies never tell that story.

The post Blood, Sweat, and Tears appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

     Several years ago I had a student (who for the purposes of this column I’ll call Bubba) who made an extremely poor decision at least one time per school year. I recognized that he lacked good judgment his freshman year when he accepted a challenge from an upperclassman to lick a toilet seat. He did it for no other reason than to please and impress others. (Other than the trombone section, I’m not sure he made much of an impression.) After being informed of the incident, I had a talk with him about the health dangers of licking toilet seats, as well as the creation of a mental image that I would have a difficult time ever erasing.
     During his sophomore year, Bubba was trying out for all-region, and I saw him walking down the hallway of the host school. The first thing I noticed was that he left a three-foot trail of what appeared to be blood on the white, tile floor. Then I glanced up at his hands that were cradling his face, blood dripping profusely through his fingers. Alarmed, I stopped him and asked, “Bubba, what happened?” He looked at me and then slowly began removing not one, not two, but six gum balls of various shades of red from his mouth. What had appeared to be a blood was simply red gumball dye and saliva. Relieved that Bubba was not bleeding to death, I located a mop and made him clean the floor.
     On the morning of a marching contest Bubba’s junior year, he came into my office as I was completing some last minute tasks. I looked up and was astonished to find that his upper lip was swollen to three times its normal size. What he said came out something like “Iwasbuhoutbuhfrontdoorbuhof bandbuhroombuhandstuckbuhstick upinbubwaspbuhnestbuhandthey stungbuhmeonthelipbuh.” He was my fourth chair trumpet player, so this was quite a blow. Fortunately, he was not allergic to wasp stings and did not go into anaphylactic shock. Miraculously, the swelling went down enough for him to play several hours later.
Of course, it doesn’t take extreme examples such as these to prove that high school students have problems with decision-making. However, if we share a very simple technique with them, it could make all the difference. In fact, I use this technique myself to help solve dilemmas of all types:
     Take a piece of paper, draw a line down the middle, and then write the pros and cons of a certain decision on each side of the line. Pencil and paper will not always be available, but once this becomes a habit, the idea of considering good and bad consequences will likely carry over into decisions that have to be made on the spot. However, if possible, writing things down in a thoughtful manner is always best.
     After making the list, either written or mental, compare the sides. The number of entries on each side is a factor, and if one side greatly outnumbers the other, it is likely the way to go. But this is not a hard and fast rule; sometimes one factor on one side can be more important than several on the other. The important thing is to gain clarity, and have a decision that was made after full and rational thought.
     If Bubba had used this technique the consequences of his misdeeds may have been avoided. As shown below, in evaluating the two sides, it’s fairly clear that it would be best to leave the wasp nest alone.

     Of course, this method can be used for more serious matters. (Not that one’s personal health and safety are not important). My son Kelsey wasn’t sure whether he wanted to play football his sophomore year of high school or limit himself to band and basketball. Although I would have liked for him to concentrate more on his music, I realized it was his decision. However, I wanted him to consider both sides of the matter, so I asked him to use the method I’ve described above. Without going into precise details, I will say that after careful consideration he decided to play football. It ended up being the right decision; he became a two-time all-state running back and trumpet player.
     While this may seem to be a rather simplistic way to make decisions, it is extremely effective even when making major decisions like choosing a college to attend, deciding what major to pursue, accepting a new job position, or making a major purchase. Considering both sides carefully can be the difference between a good decision and one filled with regrets.

     Postscript: As for Bubba, there were no incidents his senior year. Four years later, he was the first in his family to graduate from college. He then married another former band member of mine, and now has a child. I’m assuming he’ll coach his young son about the dangers of licking toilet seats, overstocking his mouth with jawbreakers, and disrupting wasp nests.

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    Teachers hope to prepare the next generation to carry the baton of art and creativity.  However, many students hit the wall during the middle school years and quit. Strong students often are the children who excel in many areas of life and face many pressures and choices, but they likely will regret quitting music later. By understanding the challenges middle school flutists face and developing a plan to keep their interest high, teachers can increase their student retention rate and help students develop a lifelong love of music and playing the flute.

Get the Parents Involved
    Students with strong parental support have the best chance for success. Take active steps to involve parents. After a student’s lesson, mention a concept such as a practice strategy that was covered in the lesson and explain how the student has used this information to improve a specific technique. Share with parents when a student has prepared and played something well at a lesson. Occasionally send an email to praise a positive character trait such as  preparedness, curiosity, respectfulness, or concentration. Whenever possible, attend students’ concerts and musical events. Observe what is important in their lives besides music lessons and show interest in their other pursuits.

Learning Styles
    Each student learns differently. Whether students are visual, aural or tactile learners, how local schools teach may affect their expectations for private music lessons. In some school systems, students are encouraged to interact in class, so they become eager, engaged learners in the music studio. Other classrooms may not allow for much student discussion, resulting in students who are unsure how much freedom they have to interact with a music instructor.
    Recently, two of my students were in this second category of learners. I contacted the parents of each, and we came up with several solutions. With one student, I explained that music, because of its creative nature, was something that allowed a wide range of ideas for expression and that the music studio did not share the same rules as her school classroom. Since then she has blossomed into a perceptive person who is not afraid to share ideas.
    The other student is naturally shy but responds well to open-ended questions. Asking questions is a great way to find out what students know and what their perspectives are. After students play an exercise or piece, instead of telling them what is wrong or needs improvement, ask, “What do you think would make this sound even better?” or “What do you think it would sound like if you played it faster, slower, louder, softer?” If I get a blank look, I say, “Let’s find out.”

Develop a Curriculum
    Keep the lesson material fresh and engaging. Observe what a student likes and find ways to include it in lessons, such as studying video game music or watching YouTube videos of professional musicians playing the student’s repertoire. Acquire a collection of world flutes and use them to demonstrate various areas of the curriculum. For example, when a flute student plays the panpipes or Syrinx flute, he quickly learns that the longer pipes are lower pitched in sound than the shorter pipes. After he plays quickly from one end of the panpipes to the other, explain that this run of notes is frequently used in flute music when the composer is writing symbolically about Pan. Having students play a passage on a fife, crystal flute, penny whistle, traverso, piccolo, alto or bass flute, will open their ears to new coloring possibilities.
    Listening projects not only teach students how to follow a full score, but can instill a desire to learn new, more advanced repertoire. Listening to Bach opens many discussion topics such as what Bach’s life was like, stylistic concerns of the Baroque era, what a recording session is like, or why a specific instrument was used.
    Using books and magazines in lessons creates other topics for discussion such as practice strategies, who the current high-profile performers are, good CDs to study, and new music to perform, besides offering listings of competitions and summer masterclass programs.  

Teaching Themselves
    Teach students a process for learning and practicing. For example, one of the early steps in learning the rhythm in a piece is to write in the counts, clap the rhythm, play the rhythm on one note, and then play the passage. Make sure students thoroughly understand the process before leaving the lesson. If students can learn to solve musical difficulties by applying proper practice techniques, they can teach themselves between lessons.

Performance Anxiety
    Even after practicing well, some students have difficulties when auditioning. Anxiety may be so severe that students wish to quit band and music lessons rather than confront playing alone in a stressful situation. In such cases teachers should help students practice auditioning and demonstrate relaxation habits to use when playing alone. Students learn in three ways: exposure and instruction to the subject, repetition (practice drills), and performance. Playing by oneself is part of learning to do something well.

Praise Accomplishment
    In each lesson, look for things the student genuinely does well. It could be playing a correct rhythm or counting, attention to detail such as dynamics or finger synchronization, or something that you know the student accomplished on purpose. Especially praise diligence and the focus it took to meet practice goals. When a teacher praises a student in this way, it reinforces the priorities the teacher has set, and the verbal reward provides knowledge of exactly what is expected and a marker of when a goal has been reached.
    Be careful when congratulating a student who has achieved a status of a chair ranking or placement in a prestigious band group as it could be counterproductive. It may cause students to think that the result of a particular judged event is a reflection of their overall abilities.
    Sometimes worthy students are not chosen for promotion, and sometimes unworthy students are. Focus on praising students for following instructions and meeting goals because personal preparation is the real reward, and eventually the cream will rise to the top. Students should understand that certain achievements or the loss of a ranking will not permanently categorize them; they can expect their hard work to eventually pay off.

Provide Opportunities
    If a private studio is too small to host a recital, ask another teacher to share an event. Join a music teachers’ association to provide opportunities for your students to participate in festivals, competitions, recitals, and scholarship auditions. Send students links to articles or music videos that illustrate concepts you are currently teaching. When possible, take students to concerts, even those of musicians who play a different instrument. All of these experiences build a foundation for arts appreciation. Guiding middle school students through this time of development is a worthwhile investment.

The post Teaching Middle School Lessons appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

    A good sound is a good sound, but the expectation of what a good sound is varies between classical and jazz. Throughout the classical world, a good trumpet sound means something rather specific. A good classical sound is full and even, meaning that it has a good core to it and a full sustain. The volume is the same at the beginning, middle, and end of each note; there is no taper. It shouldn’t be too bright or brassy, but also should avoid being so dark that there are no highs in it. You want to have a ringing quality to the sound that projects, but also a vocal quality.
    A wide variety of sounds can be considered acceptable in jazz, but there is no excuse for having poor technique or an inability to play in tune. I have heard people say, “I’m just going to play jazz, so I don’t need to work on my slurs or articulations.” That is complete nonsense. Many of the best jazz players who ever lived had fantastic technique and few limitations. No one should ever forget that Miles Davis was a student at Juilliard for at least a semester before he got too famous. Clifford Brown had fantastic technique and a great articulation. As you listen to the best players, it becomes obvious that they all spent a great deal of time practicing. Sean Jones, one of the top jazz trumpeters today, works a great deal on technique.

Listening
    In my experience, few young trumpet players know how a trumpet is supposed to sound. They base their sound off of the best trumpet player they’ve heard, who is usually the player sitting first chair in their band. Their entire sound concept is based off of a beginner’s sound.
    What I tell my students is that you can only play what you can hear, and the quality of your sound is limited by the quality of your imagination. If you cannot hear or imagine what a good sound is, then there is no chance you will play it. Usually what I will do is demonstrate or play along with younger students so they hear a more advanced sound, or I will give them recordings or tell them to look up someone specific on YouTube. A Maurice André CD can do wonders for a student’s sound.
    Listening works because students become more aware of both their sound and the sound that the trumpet can produce. It can be a moment where the light bulb comes on, because inexperienced players may have no idea what the instrument’s capabilities are. I remember the first time I listened to Wynton Marsalis playing the “Carnival of Venice.” I didn’t even know what double tonguing or triple tonguing was at the time. I had listened to Dizzy Gillespie and Maynard Ferguson before, so I had a good idea of some of the things that the trumpet could do, but hearing Wynton play was that moment for me. Hearing great trumpeters inspires students to emulate them.
    If you are going to play jazz, you have to listen to it first, especially if you are going to improvise, which is the heart of what jazz is. To improvise is to speak a language, which means you need a vocabulary. You need to know the scales and understand what the chord symbols mean and what scales, chords, and tonalities they represent. You have to work on your accent, so to speak, just as if you were learning Spanish. The letters in “Hola, me llamo Josh,” represent different sounds in Spanish than they do in English. If you don’t say something the right way, it doesn’t mean anything. The best thing to do when learning a language is listen and repeat. In jazz, this can mean playing along with albums, transcribing, or finding a great player or teacher and playing along with them.
    Going to concerts is important, too. I go out to hear concerts as often as possible, because hearing new sounds and musical ideas is vital to our development as musicians. I encourage all my students and their parents to go to concerts. This can go a long way to motivate students. Plus, musicians should support each other.

Singing
    Singing is extremely important for both jazz and classical playing. You have to be able to hear in your mind what you want to play, because you cannot expect to be able to play something you cannot hear, you cannot hear something if you have never imagined it, and you cannot imagine something you have never thought about. A good sound, good phrasing, and good intonation do not happen by accident.
    I will have my students sing their music, buzz it, then play it. Singing and buzzing help students develop a lyrical quality and a better sense of pitch; it also forces you to first hear the notes in your head. The trumpet forces the player to the nearest partial, making it possible to cheat, but when buzzing or singing no such help is available.  Students must hear the pitches correctly and sing or buzz them properly. Learning how to sing and buzz accurately is going to improve the trumpet sound because students will buzz with more accuracy and not depend on the trumpet to funnel them into the right note.
    Singing can make students uncomfortable, but it helps to remove the distractions an instrument can cause to inexperienced players, who are often extremely focused on the mechanics of the instrument – or even just holding it. Singing is a good way to remind students that this is just music and the most important thing is the melody. It will really help them to produce more musical phrases while singing or buzzing, which should translate back to the trumpet.
    It took me a while to understand and appreciate my first jazz lessons when I attended Oberlin. I was getting both a jazz and a classical degree, so I had two lessons a week. In my jazz lessons I studied with Kenny Davis. He assigned me songs to play, but we weren’t working on improvisation very much; we would just play through the melodies together. Davis has played in the Ellington Band and with such people as Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin. You don’t get gigs like that without being able to improvise, but in our lessons, we mainly just played through melodies. I remember asking whether we should solo over some of them, but he responded, “Oh, no, let’s just play some more melodies.” What he was showing me was the importance of playing the melody. If you go to a jam session, some people won’t know the melody. They know the chords and can solo over them, but the improvisation is supposed to be an answer to the melody. Melody is important, because it is what people are drawn to, and the improvisation is what you play that is influenced and informed by the original song. If you don’t know the original song, how can you hope to improvise off of it?

Buzzing
    I teach sustain through buzzing. When you buzz you have to move air the whole time, which means you are using a substantial amount of air. If you ask students to play and hold a note, most will say they can do it, but you can’t actually hold a note, you can only sustain it. The difference between the two is that I can hold my phone and it won’t go anywhere, but a note is something that is created and instantaneous. If you hear someone play a note, and a moment later you hear the same pitch at the same volume, then it sounds like the same note, but really every single moment that person is playing is a new note. There is new air going through the lips, and a new vibration. A sustained note is actually a series of new notes that are being created rapidly, which produces the idea and image of sustain.
    Buzzing teaches young trumpet players that they are not playing and holding a note, but rather continually creating the note. This gets students to understand how much air they need to use. You cannot just start a note and let it glide; the air has to be steady and uninterrupted. I usually use the analogy of a light bulb. When we turn a light on, the room looks lit up. This is not because the bulb emitted light and the light stuck everywhere, it is just that every moment light is shooting out of the bulb, constantly reilluminating the room. To our eyes it just looks like the room is lit up, but every moment it is brand new light.
    Buzzing also helps students develop their breathing. To be done correctly, buzzing must be caused by air, not tension. The buzz is the reaction of the lips to the air. It is not forcing the lips into position that creates a buzz. If you’re buzzing on your mouthpiece and you’re relaxed and playing with full air, then it will help the embouchure as well.

Time and Articulation
    After sound quality, articulation is the next most important aspect of playing the trumpet. Articulation is the beginning of the note, and when you play in an ensemble with 20, 50, or 100 people, there is an expectation of uniformity of articulation. If you think about how many beginnings of notes there are in a piece of music, it becomes immediately evident how important articulation is. The goal in an ensemble is to avoid scattershot articulations where everyone comes in at a slightly different time.
    To get everyone in at the same time, students should count before they play and then breathe in tempo. This is as important as a golfer’s back swing. You can describe different tempos by comparing the back swing used with a driver to that used with a putter. If you play in an extremely fast tempo, you might breathe for two or three beats instead of just one, because one beat would be too little to get a full, relaxed breath. I always tell students to breathe in tempo, because if articulations, which are the air at the beginnings of notes, are to be the same every time, the immediately preceeding step, the breath, has to be the same every time as well. Additionally, if we breathe in tempo that means we will be counting the measure before our entrance, giving us a stronger sense of time. This helps students see how every aspect of playing an instrument ties together.
    When discussing articulation with my students, I ask what produces the articulation, and they usually say the tongue. I then ask how the tongue creates the articulation, which stumps them. I then show them how it is only the air that creates the articulation. If air creates a note, and articulation is the start of a note, then air creates articulation. The tongue can’t produce a pitch. Ultimately, every part of the body and the instrument all interact with or affect the air, but only air creates sound.
    I tell students the quality of the air is what determines the quality of the articulation, and have students visualize how the air moves. If you want a crisp articulation, you need crisp air. If you want a legato articulation, you need legato air. If you want an accented articulation, you need accented air. Terms like these are concepts students can grasp.
    Once students understand these ideas we can start working on articulation studies through scales or Clarke studies. I like to kill two birds with one stone; learning scales while practicing articulations is simply more efficient. Why practice two things separately when you can combine them? When I practice scales and articulations, I usually change modes so I am playing something different ascending and descending, to cover twice as many scales. I also mix up articulations and slurs on the scales. With some planning, practice can become a lot more efficient.
    In my jazz lessons, what we were working on while learning these melodies was phrasing, time, and a solid swing feel. Time is what makes jazz what it is. You can play the best notes and greatest licks, but with a poor sense of time it won’t sound good at all. Students learn the importance of time by playing through tunes with other musicians. This is how to best demonstrate the ideas and concepts of jazz time. Students will listen to others play and pick it up.
    When switching between classical and jazz, attention must be given to beat emphasis. In jazz beats two and four are strong and the eighth notes are swung, but this is the opposite of classical, in which the downbeat is the strongest, with the third beat (in 44 time) important to a lesser degree with the eighth notes being played evenly. In classical music, notes on beat one get more weight, but if you do that in jazz it will be phrased incorrectly. Even if a note is written on the downbeat, it should be played less strongly than the note on beat two. Most of the music people hear over the radio growing up has strong downbeats; this style is programmed into our brains, so it can be difficult for students to think about time differently at first.
    Inexperienced jazz players may overlook the importance of listening to the bass player. The bassist will give you both the time and the harmony. The drumset keeps time as well and is ideal for showing the feel and emphasis of the beats, but the bass gives both the time and the harmony on every beat.
    Expectations for articulations are also different. In classical music, trumpet players should have an extremely uniform articulation, whether they are playing in band or orchestra or soloistically. In jazz, articulations vary; certain notes are accented, and some notes might be leaned into. For the most part jazz articulations are a lot more legato; trying to swing heavily tongued notes sounds strange. They are also a lot lighter, and the note blooms slightly late. This all goes back to singing. Students should sing their music and then play it the way they sang it.

Technique
    The technical expectations of a jazz player compared to a classical player are different. In classical trumpet music at a high school or college level, a trumpet player would not be expected to play higher than written D6 or E6. In jazz, the expectation would be G6 or higher. In college I played lead trumpet on an arrangement of Recorda Me that went up to A6 or B6. The expectations when playing that high are different in classical and jazz. When playing that high in a jazz setting, the sound and articulation expectation is that you peel some paint off the back of the room. The great lead trumpet players play notes like that with a degree of finesse, but if someone writes a G6 in a lead trumpet part, the expectation is that it be heard. In classical music, something like the Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 is extremely high, but it is usually played on a piccolo trumpet and is supposed to be played delicately. Even if a classical trumpet part has a written high D or E, most players will switch from a Bb trumpet to one in C or Eb, if not a piccolo trumpet.

Interpretation
    Another important aspect of playing classical music is following the instructions. Being a great musician means taking all your talent, technique, and hard work and using it to interpret the instructions in the music. Composers spend a great deal of time translating what’s on their minds onto a sheet of paper filled with dots, lines, and letters. This is the blueprint. For some reason, it is taught that notes and rhythms are important but articulations and dynamics are an afterthought. However, these are just as important as the notes themselves. If you have a note that is supposed to be forte and you play it piano, you have totally missed the idea. Paying very careful attention to all the markings and style is important. The right note at the wrong dynamic is the wrong note, just as fingering low D with first and third valve but without kicking the tuning slide out is the wrong fingering. All the parts have to be there.
    I ask my students, “Based on how you just played, if you were sitting in the audience would you have been able to fill in where all the dynamics and articulations should have gone?” They say no every time. A characteristic of great performers is being extremely deliberate with the markings. I want my students to get to the point at which if they play a note and it is in time but articulated incorrectly, they say that they played it incorrectly. Paying close attention to the little details is what makes the music come alive. If the articulations and markings were unimportant, the composer wouldn’t have written them in the music.

Equipment
    For a student who practices less than 90 minutes a day, equipment isn’t going to be a game changer. I compare it to running: If you run one mile a day, it doesn’t matter how great your shoes are, but if you run a marathon, you need good shoes to protect your feet. Students who practice only a little bit will never ever reach the limitations of their equipment; to reach the limitations of your equipment will take a lot of practice. Otherwise, new equipment will mainly have a placebo effect. If a child gets a new mouthpiece or trumpet it will encourage him to practice a lot more. He will think the sound is better because of the new instrument when really it’s because he has been playing the new instrument an hour or two a day. If you gave a student in this scenario back his old trumpet, he would probably sound just as good. All the big music companies make great introductory model horns. You cannot go wrong with any of them.
    Students have to have a working horn with functional valves and slides. I will have a student show up with the ring broken off of the slide, and it has been taped back on. I tell students not to come back until they get it fixed, and I call parents to tell them that the instrument is broken and has to be repaired.

Practice
    For practice time, assuming that time spent listening is separate, I would break down a half-hour session for a middle school or high school trumpet player into three chunks. Chunk one, for ten minutes, is spent on warmups and technique. This includes time spent breathing, buzzing, and playing things like long tones and slurs. What most people call lip slurs I like to call air slurs. The air is what produces the note change, not the lips. The second ten minutes should be spent working on classical music. This could be band music, solos, an etude, or duets.
    The last ten minutes would be either their jazz band music, working on learning a jazz solo, transcribing, or even spending more time on technique, such as scales. Students can take the materials they worked on at the beginning of the practice session and play them with a jazz feel, rhythm, and articulation. If you think through the exercises students are assigned to do, you can cover a lot of bases using fewer studies and exercises. You can repurpose music by changing it from a classical to a jazz feel. This final section could also be spent learning some basic theory, like a blues scale or modes. This keeps practice sessions simple: three parts equally divided between warmups, classical, and jazz.
    I add piano playing to my practice sessions and am a big proponent of all jazz musicians knowing how to play the piano. The trumpet is a single-voice instrument that cannot play both melody and harmony, so advanced students should at least learn how to play the chords on the piano so they can hear how the chords sound and see how the voicings move.
    We are used to playing on our own in practice, but often the purpose of practice is to prepare ourselves to play with a group, whether that is in band or orchestra or with a pianist. If we keep this idea in mind during individual practice sessions, it will make ensemble rehearsals smoother and performances more musical with a better ensemble sound. We all want to play together and have fun, and I find that the better players get, the more fun they have.

The post Comparing Classical and Jazz Trumpet Playing appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

    John was an optimist, and he was a firm believer in the power of music and the virtue of the human spirit. He would often become visibly touched by the simplest act of kindness he witnessed. Were he still alive, he would find so much good in what is happening in the band world today. But perhaps more than anything else, he would see the challenges ahead, roll up his sleeves, and say, “Well, let’s get to work.”

    In my mind, one of the hallmarks of John Paynter’s contribution to our society was his deep desire to prepare not only the best musician, but also the best person within each student. He truly looked upon his job globally and would not separate the musical and personal aspects of anyone’s development. In the most traditional sense, John, as a teacher, was interested in preparing better citizens to take their place in our society. This strong impulse permeated everything he did.
    John’s high musical standards are well known, but this desire to find and instill the best in everyone could be found during his rehearsal lectures to the Northshore Band members, in the expectations (and occasional lectures) he had for his faculty colleagues, and even in his chastisements of the large audiences at the Midwest Clinic. John would often use his famously razor-sharp wit in front of capacity audiences at Midwest Clinic to fill more empty seats, to ask the audience to pay closer attention, or even to exhort them to show more appreciation for what was unfolding before them.
    Once in Wisconsin, John was conducting a high school honor band. He noticed that none of the high school directors seemed to be in the rehearsals, but were spending their time in the coffee room. After a couple of rehearsals, he gave the band a break and went outside to join the directors for a smoke. At the end of their visit, and as it was time to resume rehearsal, he turned to his colleagues and asked if they were all ready to return to the rehearsal. This was his gentle reminder that each of them still had more to learn and would be best served observing the rehearsal rather than partaking in another doughnut. Not everyone appreciated John’s consistent and constant efforts in this way. He took his traditional role as a teacher seriously, and those who chose to listen and learn from him were all the better for it.
    The first time I encountered John Paynter as a student at Northwestern (I had known him professionally earlier in my career) was as a doctoral student playing bass clarinet in the Northwestern Summer Band. I showed up ready for the first rehearsal. We were all warming up and looking through our respective parts, introducing ourselves to each other, and so on. Suddenly the room became completely quiet. I did not know why until I looked around and saw that John had just entered the room. The respect shown at that moment was palpable. I don’t believe I had ever experienced this before, and it certainly made me sit up and take notice. Not really knowing what to expect, I anticipated a stern and grumpy man would take the podium. What I found, instead, was a person who, from the very start, was friendly and witty, but all business and ready to get to work.
    In the summers, this business-like attitude was necessary because the band gave a concert every week for six weeks. Each concert was prepared in three rehearsals. Typically, the summer band played to a sold-out crowd in Pick-Staiger Concert Hall, and the repertoire included a wide variety of difficult music. John built this extraordinary summer series over many years to be among the most successful summer music events in the Chicago area. He believed in bringing music to the community and would bus in large numbers of audience members from retirement homes for each concert.
    I learned a great deal about quick concert preparation watching John in this summer atmosphere. Because time was so critical, each rehearsal presented musical choices about what to really dig into and what to leave alone. John had an uncanny knack for knowing what performance issues would take care of themselves with another run-through and what issues needed specific attention. This is a skill that all successful conductors learn over time. I also observed how John would spend more time on specific musical issues that were most important to him early in the season, with the expectation that careful attention early on would pay off with more efficient rehearsal later in the summer as students learned what skills were of the highest priority to him.
    Another critical skill John brought to the students in the summer band was that of effective programming. The large audiences that gathered for the concerts each week came because they knew they would enjoy a wide variety of music. I recall one concert for which John programmed Ross Lee Finney’s Summer in Valley City. This is an esoteric work, which is extremely difficult to perform and presents a challenge to the listener. John balanced the Finney piece with a number of works at the opposite end of the spectrum to provide balance for players and the audience. At the concert, he spent a bit of time introducing and explaining the piece, and even said to the audience, “Okay, here comes the piece you’re not going to like.” With his inimitable ability to work an audience, and with careful programming around the piece, it was a huge success. I saw him do this time and time again. Through John’s superb rehearsal techniques, terrific programming, efficient administration of the summer concert series, and ability to communicate with the audience, there was much to be learned by those of us who were involved in the summer program. To be part of this was a real joy.
    Like the Summer Band, Symphonic Wind Ensemble rehearsals at Northwestern were productive and efficient. John did not believe in wasting his players’ time. He wanted to emulate the professional music-making experience as best he could. In fact, near the end of his career, he advocated for a new approach to ensemble rehearsals. He wanted to experiment with the idea of more closely mimicking the professional experience by staging rehearsals every day for one week before a given concert. After that week, the students would move on to another project or ensemble for a while, or simply have time off to do other things. This was a far cry from the current practice of rehearsing an ensemble on a regular basis, giving a concert every few weeks. This is just one example of John’s willingness to think outside the box.
    In talking with a former student about this book, I indicated that I was attempting to describe a typical rehearsal of the Wind Ensemble. He thought it would be very difficult to put that into words. Indeed, when I think back to those rehearsals, I’m confronted with a variety of emotions. Every rehearsal was charged with lots of energy. This energy, however, was not the result of cheerleading from the podium. Rather, it was a combination of the opportunity to make great music with great musicians and a sense of wanting to please Mr. Paynter. Even the most-experienced and discriminating doctoral students knew that they would be better musicians as a result of their experience in the Symphonic Wind Ensemble. In fact, Northwestern is well known as a superb orchestra training school (among many other things). With this in mind, one might expect the top wind and percussion players to be primarily interested in playing in the orchestra. This was not the case. Everyone acknowledged that there was much to take away from playing under John’s baton.
    It would be misguided to imply that Symphonic Wind Ensemble rehearsals were free of tension and stress. Some of the stress resulted from the atmosphere John would create on any given day, but most of it was due to the expectations the students placed on themselves. Peer pressure in the room was palpable, and no one wanted to disappoint either their student colleagues or their conductor.
    John never spoke above normal conversational volume in rehearsal. This was, I’m sure, a calculated strategy that forced a very quiet atmosphere and increased the level of intensity. If there was much rumbling around or movement during rehearsal, the players would simply be unable to hear him. This caused a subconscious level of quiet and focus that was both attractive and a bit peculiar. Another effective technique he employed was to begin the music barely before everyone was ready. After he made comments to the group, he did not wait. He started. Again, subconsciously, students caught on to this practice and knew that they had to be ready to go in a very timely manner. There was simply no time to waste. While the rehearsal atmosphere was always business-like, the moods between rehearsals would vary. Some days John would come to rehearsal in a somber mood. The rehearsal, of course, took on this character. Those rehearsals would proceed pleasantly, but with little humor or levity.
    More often, rehearsals were interjected with humor and John’s notorious wit. One of his most enduring qualities was his ability to use that wit to correct and even chastise his players. He had a very unique way of making the person he was addressing feel good about himself or herself, often with a chuckle, while at the same time making a significant musical point regarding that person’s playing of a certain passage. This was done without sarcasm, which can be negative. It was often subtle, but never went over the heads of the bright students who attend Northwestern. At the risk of sounding smug, I believe this manner of interaction was highly effective at NU, and it was a skill John honed over a long career at this single institution. I consider this to be yet another example of how John and Northwestern were so closely intertwined and how, in some ways, the University molded the man.
    In the rehearsal process, John was direct. He believed he owed it to his students to be nothing less. They were there to learn and improve—to become the best musicians they could—and his job was to help them achieve that goal individually and collectively. He was always teaching. The reason John could be so direct was that he left no doubt that he knew his stuff. There was no waffling about anything he did in rehearsal. As soon as a problem occurred, or he wanted to offer some individual musical (or personal) advice, he would stop and get directly to the issue. Again, this was most often done pleasantly and with a touch of humor, but still directly. I don’t recall any time when he stopped and hesitated about what to say, or whom to address. He would stop, describe the problem, offer a solution, and move on.
    Sometimes it was difficult to predict how the work on a piece would progress. Occasionally, he would work very hard to make a particular point. He could, without hesitation, stay on ten measures for thirty minutes. This did not happen often, but he would use the situation to perfect a particular style or to make the point that he expected a great deal from his players. Conversely, there were many times when I would think another run-through of a certain section of music would be helpful, but he would leave that last run-through for the performance. This was not uncommon and added to the excitement of the concert itself. He trusted that it would be great at the performance next time—and this was perfectly acceptable with players as good as those with whom he worked.
    While John’s rehearsals were business-like, there was time for a story here and there along the way. The apologues were part of John’s style, but they were always offered with a particular purpose. He had a great knack for sharing a tale and then very neatly wrapping it up into a package completely relevant to the point he was trying to make. Unlike many band conductors later in their careers, he did not wax on in rehearsal without a specific purpose to the story. He was nothing if not efficient and respectful of his students’ time.
    John was direct with his criticism, but it was not offered in a mean or personal way; it was always simply matter of fact. The reason for critical suggestion was to improve the music and improve the performer. It was that simple. Most students learned that John did not pick on people. He just wanted to make them better. The exception to that would be if a particular student was consistently unprepared or overtly demonstrated a lack of respect for what was going on in the room. Should he detect that, John’s sharp tongue and quick wit could immediately lay someone out.
    Positive feedback was also very much a part of the process. Such feedback would not be effusive. It would be rendered quickly and honestly. It might be as simple as, “Have you ever heard anything more beautiful?” Such comments came often and, most importantly, were heartfelt, so they meant a great deal to those to whom they were directed.
    John’s particular conducting style was not expansive. His gesture was clear, but never over-done. His focus was truly on the music and the way it sounded.
    Occasionally, on a lighter day, students might attempt to engage in a bit of banter with John. This was always humorous because they would soon be drawn and quartered by his remarkably quick wit. In my opinion, he had no equal when it came to his amazingly quick mind (except maybe Marietta). And best of all was when someone became a victim to his wit and didn’t even know it. I count myself among the many folks, including students, deans, faculty colleagues, and conducting colleagues around the country, who dared to challenge, but learned the hard way, that he always won.

    John’s effectiveness on the podium was a result of several important factors: his superb musicianship, his extraordinary ear, and his thorough preparation before each and every rehearsal. His musicianship was enhanced by his consistent desire to improve, and stay aware. He and Marietta were regular attendees at the Chicago Symphony. He listened to music constantly and was always expanding his musical palette. John found great value in listening to music outside of the wind band world. He knew that a wide variety in his musical diet was essential to his own growth. He was proud of his colleagues at Northwestern and loved to rub elbows with them. He claimed to learn from them every day. Being associated with the finest musicians, both colleagues and students, for more than forty years clearly had a positive effect on John Paynter the musician—yet another example of his inseparable relationship with Northwestern.
    John’s degrees in theory and composition presented an unusual pedigree for a band conductor. He considered himself very much to be a theorist and an arranger. Indeed, his output was very large. His theoretical knowledge gave John a unique perspective as a conductor. While all conductors bring a grasp of music theory, John’s degrees in theory afforded him a large advantage when trying to understand the music he was conducting. His background was also helpful in preparing his remarkable ear. He could hear and discern exactly what was unfolding within any musical setting to a level I have rarely encountered.
    John did not rely on his musical skills alone in rehearsal. His confidence was acquired through hard work. His most basic premise, resulting from the influence of his father and Mr. Bainum, was to simply work harder than everyone else. He spent endless hours at his desk studying scores. I remember looking in on him at one point before rehearsal. He was poring over his well-worn score of the Hindemith Symphony. I asked what he could possibly be studying after having performed the work so many times. He replied, with that well-known twinkle in his eye, that he learned something new every time he opened that score. John never stopped studying, learning, and working.
    One of John’s more infamous habits was to program long—often very long—concerts. He simply loved the music too much to let any of it go. Additionally, he conceived each concert as a composition itself. Each piece played off the others, and the whole event was to be taken as an organic experience rather than simply as a group of works thrown together. This often made for very long evenings at both Northwestern and Northshore Band concerts. I remember a Symphonic Wind Ensemble concert in the winter of 1990 that started at 7:30 p.m. At 10:00 p.m., John cut the concert short, announcing that everyone had heard enough for one night and the audience could come back next time to hear the last piece.

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    While the state of Wisconsin may need a few months to thaw out from its traditional winters, Chris Gleason is keeping things hot in his part of the state. From unique ways to stimulating middle school students’ interest and creativity to giving major composers like Brian Balmages and John Mackey an idea or two for a new band commission, there is something special going on at Patrick Marsh Middle School in Sun Prairie.

When did you know you wanted to teach music?
    I probably knew by middle school, when I was about 10 or 11 years old. My father was a band director, so I grew up in his band room. My brother is also a band director, so it was a rite of passage.

How did you get started at Patrick Marsh Middle School?
    I started here 12 years ago. My wife grew up in Sun Prairie, a suburb outside Madison. Sun Prairie has always had a reputation as having a wonderful music program. When we started dating in college, her little brother was in the high school jazz ensemble, which won an audition to play at the Essentially Ellington competition with Wynton Marsalis. The band placed third, and as they were on stage with Wynton, I remember thinking, “These are high school students?” They sounded amazing. When there was an opening in Sun Prairie, it seemed like an obvious choice. I have great colleagues here.

Once students are in your program, what are the biggest challenges in retaining them?
    I have learned over the years that if you ignite students’ curiosity, passion, and joy, they will stay in your ensemble. I believe that students don’t stay in band just to improve on an instrument. Rather, they stay in band to make music, to learn about themselves, and to see the world through a different lens. Selecting high-quality literature is the first step in keeping students. The music is our curriculum, and it is what should nourish students’ souls and minds.
    A recent example of a great piece we studied was Moscow 1941 by Brian Balmages. We explored the history behind the work and how the music effectively portrays the story. One of my assignments was to ask the students to take the idea of group identity and come up with a mission statement – a plan of attack for their cause. One group of students created what they called the Sit Down Club. This group of students found other students at school that would ordinarily sit by themselves at lunch and simply get to know them better. One day my principal noticed this interaction and asked me what was going on. My one-word reaction was, “Band.” He questioned that answer, and I explained the project and what this group of students chose to do. Needless to say, my principal had an appreciation for my students’ efforts and also developed a greater appreciation for our profession. As the band director, I noticed that the students appeared to connect with this work at a greater level than simply worrying about difficult passages and other technical details. It was a powerful strategy that gave each of my students more ownership in the process and a deeper understanding of the music.

In teaching beginning students, what are the biggest challenges you have faced and how have you overcome them?
    The biggest challenge we face is time. Our building houses sixth and seventh grades, which is a bit unique. We start our beginners a few weeks before their 6th grade year and only have them for two years before they move on to our Upper Middle School. Our lesson program and rehearsal schedule is similar to many schools in our area. To increase time with the students I have tried to become more efficient and effective with my teaching. I am involved in a committee called Comprehensive Musicianship through Performance (CMP) in Wisconsin. The CMP Project began in Wisconsin nearly 40 years ago. There are now CMP committees in Iowa and Illinois as well. Developed by actual K-12 teachers, CMP is a planning process that helps teachers explore the best practices for teaching music. The training process helps music teachers clarify their priorities without losing the essence of their own approach. This training has helped me give more responsibility to students and to make the most out of the time I have with them.
What we have learned from 40 years of CMP is that great educators know how to select and analyze great music, set clear outcomes, create varied and rich strategies, and embed meaningful assessments in an effort to go beyond just the notes.

How do you get students to practice?
    After much thought and study I have come to believe that we cannot make students do anything. It is true that we can coerce or manipulate them, but those gains are usually temporary and come at a cost. Students must choose to practice. I believe this choice is made when students see the relevance of practicing, have some autonomy, and see how it will lead to greater growth. I teach them about myelin, the insulation that wraps our nerve fibers and increases signal strength, speed, and accuracy. We learn that mistakes are biologically required in order to improve, and we attend to the mistakes, break passages into chunks, and repeat them slowly and correctly. Arming students with the knowledge of how to practice and the role myelin plays has been a game changer.

You have a number of well-known composers writing for your band. How have these experiences benefitted your program?
    We have been fortunate to work with some wonderful composers, and the benefits have been amazing. The focus of the project is to create an opportunity for students to engage in the creative process with an outstanding composer and educator. Most people do not realize that the idea or concept for each commission has come from students. Each year  students are asked to come up with a creative idea that might be the basis for a new work. The students write papers discussing the concept, why it would make a good piece, and what it sounds like in their mind. The students then develop short videos introducing their idea, which we send off to the composer. When the work is completed, it is shared with the students. It is an amazing moment for them to hear their ideas come to life. The students show so much pride and excitement. Their focus and determination to perform it well for the composer pushes them to new heights each year.

You have an upcoming composition being conceived with John Mackey. Describe the process for getting a work commissioned for your group.
    We are so excited about working with John Mackey. This will be his first work for this age level. The process for commissioning a work begins with selecting a composer. Selecting great literature to perform with your ensemble is in a way like an audition for future composers. If a work makes it onto my program I usually consider that composer as a possibility for a future commission. However, with our approach to commissions, it is important that the composer communicates and works well with kids. Once the composer is selected the next step is to contact them to find out if and when they are available. Composers have different ways to establish their fees (by the minute of music or a basic fee per grade level). Find out what their fee is to write the piece and if they can and will come out for the premiere. If so, you will need to find out what their stipend is for time at your school. Travel, food, and other expenses also need to be considered. When a date of delivery is set, nearly all composers will send you a contract with all of the specifics listed above. Funding can be found through grants, fundraising, or a consortium of schools banding together to share the cost.

What are some strategies you employ during your warmup?
    I like to use the warmup as an opportunity to not only get the ensemble ready physically but also mentally prepared to dive deeper into the music. I try to avoid reactive rehearsals that are driven solely by fixing problems. I plan carefully and thoughtfully to use that time to make connections, to ask questions, and to get students even more curious.
    As an example, I will often write out the melody for the selections we will play and give it to them long before the music is ever handed out. This gives every instrument the opportunity to learn the melody and make a musical line. Along with addressing technical concerns, it provides me with the opportunity to ask questions about the nature of the music and what might come next.
    Rather than listing my rehearsal order on the board by the titles of the pieces, I will use something else about the piece that forces the students to think a bit about what they already know about the music. This could be listing the pieces by the composer’s name, or form, key, or style period.  It is often a quick assessment for me, too, of something I taught the previous day about the piece.

How did this creative approach to writing the rehearsal order develop?
    When analyzing a piece of music, I take a sheet of paper and jot down everything: composer name and dates, who it was commissioned by, key signature, form, timbre, and texture. I have a list of all the elements. For rehearsal, rather than put up the title, I’ll put up “Bb major,” “uses a three-note motif,” “composer also wrote Ascend,” or “B theme begins at measure 33.” This gets students to analyze their music. The first time I do this each year it is a bit chaotic. However, it is fun watching them talk to each other as they figure it out. As the year progresses they look forward to this challenge and expect it.
    I rehearse that way, too. I rarely say, “start at measure 25.” Instead, I’ll say, “start at the B theme.” This is one of my favorite things to do with an honor band. I’ll ask everyone who has the melody at measure 25 to play and then immediately start. Usually no one plays, which leads to some good discussion. It gets the point across that the students are expected to be more than robots who make sounds on an instrument. I want them to think about who has the melody and how their part fits into it. The aim is for students to be complete musicians.

What is a typical rehearsal like with your full bands?
    As students enter the classroom they see the order of the rehearsal on a rotating PowerPoint show, which includes general announcements as well. The PowerPoint may include a question for them to ponder as they get their instruments out. Class begins with music. We quickly move on to our warmup with standard breathing exercises, long tones, flexibility, articulation, and chorales. However, the warmup is tailored each day to review past learning or to foreshadow upcoming concepts. Conse-quently, the warmup is a natural bridge into the music.
    During the rehearsal of the music I also ask students to do quick self-reflections by showing me “fist to five fingers” (a rating of zero to five) for how well they performed a section or their comfort level with a tempo. Nearly every rehearsal also contains a skill or strategy designed to further our understanding of the work. The strategies could include anything from journal reflections to displaying tension and release with movement to creating a new rhythmic pattern on the SmartBoard. I strive to make my strategies rich and varied to help students with differing learning styles.
    I also work hard to have a moment in each rehearsal where a thought-provoking question is asked that may lead to a deeper awareness or a new connection. The rehearsals typically end like they began – with us making music. I sometimes ask students to fill out exit cards that ask them to jot down a few things learned today or new questions created.

How much time do the exit cards take to fill out?
    Not much at all. There are many different ways to quickly gauge what students have learned. I might have someone come up to the SmartBoard to make a list or do a matching exercise, but one of my favorites is to give students 3×5 notecards and ask them to create a goal, take a position on a topic and support it, or answer a poignant question. Recently we were playing Not Afraid to Dream by Brian Balmages. This piece, written in memory of a high school tuba player who passed away, has a tuba duet at the end. One day I asked the students what it might have been like to be at the premiere of that work, knowing that student wasn’t back in the tuba section. It doesn’t always have to be a question like this; “what key signatures did we play in today?” is perfectly acceptable, but this is a great way to get to know your students better.

What have been the most memorable responses to the exit cards?
    The day after September 11, 2001, I asked students “why is music important today?” One student said, “Because this is what makes America strong. Music is more important than ever, as it unites us as a country.” The cards that day were very touching and I was impressed that students could see the significant role music plays in our lives.

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