Perils of Caffeine in the Evening

Well, about 3 weeks ago I declared here that I was rejoining Rainbow City Band after a long hiatus due to the pandemic and my target-rich pre-vaccine demographic.

But after more than a year without touching my trumpet, picking it up and pushing it at my mouth seemed like the most unnatural thing I could do, sort of like an Ikea DIY facelift kit mis-applied in the wrong place and with parts left over.

 I’ve often thought that I was physically mismatched with the instrument, and initially I thought maybe this was perhaps my chance to try the oboe or some other woodwind that would reward my ample air supply with mellifluous bamboo vibration.

 Instead, I parked my trumpet in the basement and, little by little, lost that raspy lozenge of guilt that used to spur me every night down to the basement where no one can hear you scream..or practice.

 So, for four weeks now I have reluctantly headed downstairs and done purely calisthenics: lip slurs, long tones, 8th-grader stuff, considering giving up altogether, and then..flickers of musicality have begun to infiltrate the clangor of distressed metallurgy, and I’ve started to add actual music to my nocturnal finger-Nautilus.

Looking forward, now, to joining my trumpet section as an asset and preparing for our February concert at Benaroya Hall..