April – Ode to “Winging it”

Long ago when I was in the second grade in a Catholic elementary school, the teacher one day asked if anyone was interested in playing a musical instrument. I’m not sure why, but I raised my hand and was sent to the music room. The nun in charge asked if I had a preference and, of course, I said “no”. I didn’t have a clue either about an instrument or what I was getting myself in to. This was one of my first formal episodes concerned with “winging it.” I ended up with a trombone. It looked interesting and much less complicated that most of the other instruments with keys and valves. It seems curious now that there were no drums around…

The next week private, once a week, lessons began and I started playing whole notes and navigating the slide and mouthpiece tentatively. By the way, I found out quickly not to inhale while moving the slide toward me. I’m not sure what lives down in the bottom of the slide, but it is very nasty. Things went along very well until the lessons got more intricate, especially if I didn’t practice enough to present them well to the teaching nun. Every now and then I got a swat across the nose, and those large gold rings they wear can hurt, and occasionally I got a bloody nose. This really helped me to practice at home more diligently. I learned the real value of practice – survival.

I played in the third grade then moved to a farm school where there were no instrumental programs. I practiced somewhat, but with no teacher I didn’t progress very well. Halfway through the fifth grade we moved back to town and I began private lessons at a local music store. Starting the seventh grade, I went to a public junior high school where I really got interested in playing with groups. I was in the orchestra and also the concert and marching bands. Playing your instrument is one thing, and marching and playing your instrument is a much different technique. The mouthpiece tends to bounce up and down while you are stepping on uneven grass or asphalt and this bubbling sound comes out. It takes some time to get this under control.

In the ninth grade I went back to a Catholic school and played with a band that was not as good as I was used to. But I started taking lessons from a professional trombonist who gave me challenging instruction for the first time. I went back to the public high school which had an excellent marching and concert band and thrived. I was seriously studying and practicing. At this time I also started playing with small dance bands, rehearsing and eventually playing small parties and dances. Not much money, but invaluable experience. Along with the playing I became interested in how the music we were playing was constructed. Who played what and how. Not much popular music was available then for bands, so I started writing and arranging little tunes that gradually started to sound believable. The first music theory I had was at band camp in the tenth grade. Everything started to make sense and I was off in parallel directions of arranging and playing. 

Next I joined the musician’s union and started playing with adult bands with a little more money for 3 or 4 hours of work for each job. The process was to dress up and, with my trombone and mutes, travel to a hotel, sit down in front of a music stand with a book (collection of individual arrangements) in front of me and play for three or four hours, usually four. Thank God my chops (lips) were strong enough. Because of all my other playing I was strong enough to last through these sometimes demanding jobs. I was now on the road to professionally “winging it.” Facing the unknown on every job and with every new band, me and my horn got better at doing this. Because bands were always looking for a trombone player, I was playing most every weekend and began to love every minute of this lifestyle.

Bigger bands had 3 or 4 trumpets, 2 or 3 trombones, 5 saxes and 3 or 4 rhythm players. This was really challenging and fun. Small groups were even more fun. There was usually a piano, bass and drummer and 1 or 2 horns: trumpet or sax or trombone in any combination. On these jobs I would walk in and stand up for 3 or 4 hours. There was no music. No music stands. We played tunes that everyone knew. The dances were slow or fast and may a Latin beat once in a while. Especially challenging when someone turns to you while you are playing and says “take the bridge.” Great if you know the song. The is “winging it” at its finest. I got used to it and loved it and it became a way of life.

During college and thereafter I could arguably read anything that was put in front of me. Classical, jazz, shows, or anything. I played Ice Shows, Circuses, Rodeos, and large arena shows in front of thousands of people. For these there was usually a rehearsal, but not always, and not always a complete run-through. Even these involved “winging it.” Be ready to walk in sit down and play whatever is put in front of you.

So my advice is to learn to “wing it” in life. Think on your feet. Dance around on your tip toes, and draw upon the experiences, personal practice and hundreds of situations that have made it possible and desirable to “wing it.” Be prepared (my Eagle Scout badge talking) to sing or play or do anything…anywhere…! And learn to love it…!