The Myth of Rising to the Occasion

by Drew Holmes

I was sitting lead trumpet for my first performance with the Loveland Choral Society at the Rialto Theatre in downtown Loveland, and we were nearing the end of a long rehearsal. Clifford Schultz, our conductor, signaled that the next song was “Winter Wonderland”. In this arrangement the lead trumpet has a lush Carmen Dragon-esque introduction with a lyrical run starting in the mid and ending in the upper range of the instrument.

This piece was not particularly challenging, so I had not belabored the point when preparing my part. I had never played with the group before and was still sussing out the overall feel and flow of Cliff’s rehearsing style.

I wish I had been a quicker study.

Cliff raised his hands and, before I could get completely ready, gave the downbeat. Without an extra second to set my embouchure and hear the part in my head it was a lost cause.

“Trumpet!” Cliff called curtly. “Let’s try that again!”

For the remaining rehearsals and at every performance, I received a preemptive glare from Cliff when we played “Winter Wonderland”, a well-earned warning to not mess up again. I pride myself on being well prepared for every gig. This time I had overestimated my preparedness, underestimated the situation, and been justifiably reprimanded.

This was not going to happen again.

Next December, I was once again asked to play the Christmas show with the Choral Society. Wanting to acquit last year’s momentary lapse, I accepted immediately. When I got the folder my heart sank — the theme for the show was Gospel, a genre I had never played. Then things got worse.

In the folder was an arrangement of “Amen” which opened with a rubato baritone solo. Immediately following that was a blistering trumpet entrance that started on a high A, reached a high D, and settled on high C. That kind of entrance would be challenging in the middle of a piece but coming in abruptly after a quiet vocal solo it had to be perfect every time.

In short, I was screwed.

I briefly considered begging off the gig and finding a substitute, but the desire to redeem myself from the previous incident was stronger. I had done hard things before, and there was just enough time to properly prepare for this.

The previous problem was a lack of preparedness for the situation so I formed a plan: I would memorize the entrance and practice it in as many adverse conditions as possible. I kept a trumpet in my office and over the next few weeks picked up the horn at random intervals and played that entrance. First thing in the morning, just before going home, fully warmed up, completely cold, no matter the situation I practiced that part until it was mastered.

We do not rise to the occasion; we revert to our training. By preparing just enough to succeed I had prepared myself to fail. Later, when I knew of the possible sub optimal playing conditions, I prepared not just to survive but thrive no matter the situation.

During the run of the show, I performed that entrance flawlessly every time. Instead of glares I received smiles from the podium and earned Cliff’s trust. I grew to enjoy a new genre of music I had never played before and to this day the Gospel Christmas show is one of my favorites I have ever played.

An amateur practices until they get it right, a professional practices until they cannot get it wrong. That December at the Rialto I earned the title of professional.