The Comeback Kid (Sort Of), Part 3

| Jul 21, 2019 |

When Maria Bengtsson asked me to play the Handel Eternal Source on her July 9 recital at Stanford University, my main concern was being able to prepare myself physically for the task at hand. But in my preparation up to and including the day of the concert, I recognized certain things about myself that were true but perhaps not particularly admirable or even healthy. I also realized that I probably share some of those qualities with many or perhaps even most performing musicians. The quality I struggled with the most was having my feelings of self-worth depend on how well I performed.

I remember many years ago coming to the realization that, no matter how much I loved playing the trumpet and performing, there were going to be several times a year when upcoming concerts would be incredibly scary, putting me into a dark tunnel of dread. I’ve always had tremendous admiration for principal trumpet players in major orchestras who, week after week, must play the most challenging music, under demanding circumstances and before discerning audiences.

During my 18 years of retirement, that feeling of dread when approaching a difficult situation gradually faded into history. But now, faced with another performance in a beautiful venue with a great artist, I began to experience that feeling again. As I spent time thinking about it, I came to the realization that it really doesn’t matter. When I was a player I gave several (or more!) absolutely horrible performances, a couple of which seem funny today and a couple of which are still painful. I would imagine that every player reading this blog has had at least a few performances that they wish they could take back.

Here is what changed my thinking. My good friends Nick and Claudia Norton were in the area and were able to attend the concert. Nick was formerly principal trumpet of the Utah Symphony, and Claudia played bass in the orchestra. They had come to the Bay Area mainly to be with Claudia’s son, his wife, and their baby daughter who live in the area, but also to hear the concert and spend time with me. (Nick, true friend that he is, also brought a B-flat trumpet for me to practice and a G trumpet for the Handel.) Earlier in the week, Nick and I went on a wonderful hike at Edgewood Park and, as always, had a great time together. As the concert approached I had thought I would spend the day of the performance resting. But now that I was older and perhaps a bit wiser, I realized that the performance was not as important as what was truly meaningful: friends. So Nick and I went on a long walk that morning. I was a little tired afterward, but I’m glad I did it. And I think, if anything, it probably helped the performance.

Do I wish I could put the older me in the younger me? Of course. But I think maybe all performers are this way—that our self-image and self-worth are at least partly dependent on how we perform in concert. For years and years, I’ve thought that Bob DiVall, principal trumpet of the Los Angeles Philharmonic when I was in college, was more mature and well-balanced than any trumpet player I’ve ever met, simply because he seemed to have absolutely zero percent of his self-image based on how he played the trumpet. I admired that quality and recommend it for all of you who are performers, if you can achieve it. I never could.

I’m glad I made a comeback of sorts, even if it was just for one piece. It confirmed how much I absolutely love to practice—for me, it was always fun and never work. It reminded me of the thrill we get from performing music, from being in the middle of it in both rehearsal and performance, an experience that is quite different from hearing it in the audience. Finally, as great as that experience is, it reminded me that friends like Maria, Nick, and Claudia, not perfect performances, are most important of all.