Upon landing at Dallas Fort Worth Airport, morale among the group was at an all-time low after a long day and soggy shoes from our earlier trip to Niagara Falls. With only a vending machine for comfort, Helen and I sampled some spicy dill pickle chips that nearly burnt off our taste buds. Relief arrived in the form of our knight in shining armour, Mr. Dan West, who pulled up in another “battle bus.” Unfortunately, our joy was short-lived when we discovered the van had no boot. After failed attempts at folding down the seats, we wedged ourselves, luggage, and instruments into the cramped space and returned to the hire desk for a replacement.

Two and a half hours after landing, we were finally on the road in a 12-seater white Ford minibus, expertly packed in a Tetris-like fashion. Bravo to Dan and Pete for not only battling the car hire chaos but also making the heroic 3.5 hour drive to Huntsville, where we arrived at 2:30 a.m. Ouch.

The next morning was one of recovery: laundry, naps, exercise, and a delicious Mexican lunch. That evening’s concert took place in the aptly named “Payne” Concert Hall at Sam Houston State University, hosted by the welcoming Jerome, a tuba professor. The Texan air conditioning had us freezing through rehearsal – our trumpets so cold that changing instruments was a challenge – but the warmth of the student audience soon thawed us. After another enjoyable concert (fuelled by excellent snacks), I was flattered to see a long line of students queuing to meet us… only to realise they were waiting to get credit for attendance. Ego only slightly bruised.

The following morning, we embarked on a four-hour journey south to Corpus Christi. After soundcheck at Del Mar College for our concert for the Corpus Christi Chamber Music Society, Pete and I, delirious from exhaustion, invented a new art form which I would like to name “swizzle chair ballet.” Our generous host Susan treated us to a lovely post-concert dinner where we were joined by local trumpet teachers Mary, Danny and Donny. Sasha was particularly taken with the key lime pie.

The next morning began with an early masterclass featuring some talented brass groups from the local university, followed by a quick lunch before tackling what we thought would be a seven-hour drive to Denton. The drive turned into an adventure through a ferocious Texan storm. Visibility was near zero, cars crawled along with hazards flashing, and at one point we passed six vehicles bunched together – one facing the wrong way. Thankfully, there appeared to be no casualties. We sensibly pulled over to let the storm pass before Dan resumed the journey to his alma mater, the University of North Texas in Denton.

That evening’s concert at UNT was a special one for Dan, who had studied there as an undergraduate. During the performance, he gave a heartfelt tribute to his late teacher, Vern Kagarice, who had taught Dan at UNT and had sadly died 10 years ago. During the concert that evening I was reminded, as ever, what a privilege it is to perform this music with such exceptional musicians. In a masterclass the following morning we were blown away by the standard of the student performers. It was also a treat to reconnect with euphonium professor David Childs, a familiar face from our UK banding days.

During the Q&A in the masterclass that morning, we were asked about our most inspirational trumpet players. While names like Maurice Murphy, Philip Smith, and Wynton Marsalis came to mind, I gestured to the Fountain brothers beside me. These are the musicians who inspire me daily – colleagues I’ve grown up with and continue to learn from. Hearing James and Thomas pass melodic lines between them has been one of the great joys of this tour.

The next day was a travel marathon: Denton to Dallas, flight to Atlanta, then a drive to Clemson. Somewhere between airports and interstates, we realised we hadn’t planned the 50-minute educational concert we were due to give at 10 a.m. the next morning. Fueled by caffeine and creative energy, I volunteered to draft something. Sequestered in the back seat of the “battle bus” – known affectionately as “the hole” – I wrote a narrated version of Gershwin’s An American in Paris.

By the time we arrived in Clemson, I had managed to cobble something together. The next morning, Thomas and I presented the show, telling the story of George Gershwin meeting a Parisian trumpeter named Pierre. Adrenaline coursed through me – so much so that I dropped Aunt Dina the car horn at the start – but despite skipping a few story elements, the 600 or so middle and high school band students seemed thoroughly entertained. The narration breaks were also a welcome rest for our chops!

Our wonderful host Mickey treated us to lunch at Sunnyside Café, reminiscing about the last time Septura had been in Clemson five years earlier, when a hurricane cancelled their concert after the soundcheck. Thankfully, no such misfortune this time. After an afternoon of rest, we returned refreshed for the final concert of the tour.

Clemson’s new acoustic shell provided a beautiful sound for what felt like an incredibly special concert as a culmination of these performances. 

Each concert had seen us take more risks and, for me, Clemson felt like the most musically satisfying performance of the tour. Special thanks to Dan West for his inspiring breathing techniques, which carried us through to the end. Afterwards, we enjoyed a post-concert reception with the generous donors who had funded the new acoustic shell and even got a short demonstration of its acoustic magic.

The next morning, the group began to part ways. Pete and I set off at 5:25 a.m. for a 2.5 hour taxi ride to Atlanta airport, Pete heading to Dublin via Boston for a concerto performance, and me taking a brief detour to visit my dear friend Finan Jones, who has recently become Assistant Conductor in Atlanta. A day spent catching up over coffee, wandering the city, and fighting off sleep was the perfect way to decompress after such a demanding and rewarding tour. I reunited with the others at the airport for our flight home to London.

As I reflected on the journey, through storms, concerts, long drives, and countless snacks, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The camaraderie, the laughter, the shared exhaustion, and the sheer joy of making music together made this tour something truly special. 

Thank you, Septura. 

Wide awake well before my early alarm, I gathered my belongings and joined the team in the lobby of our Skokie, Illinois hotel. The immediate mission is to get Septura – players, instruments, luggage (including Aunt Dina the car horn) onto a tiny domestic aeroplane destined for Rochester, New York. Ultimately our goal for today is to get to the picturesque Upstate NY town known as Geneva (presumably named after the Swiss city because of its situation in the proximity of various lakes and woodland) and perform our American in Paris programme to the good people in The Smith Opera House. More on that later.

The gang were a bit jaded, only 2 days into the battle with transatlantic jet lag, and we all felt slightly bruised & battered in the general embouchure region due to our exertions in the first concert the evening before. I’ve always found it to be an educational experience to observe how my talented colleagues grapple with the intensity of the travel and performance schedule of these tours; these are some of the top brass players in the world and their mental resilience is beyond reproach, with each player exhibiting extensive psychological resources to draw from to get through the demanding mission ahead of us. My admiration for these skills comes as I feel I have started to make major inroads on my own performance anxiety journey. I think everything gets a bit easier as we get older and I realise perhaps there isn’t nearly as much at stake than I perceived in the past.

This isn’t my first rodeo, as I’ve been on a fair few Septura USA tours in the past. This is however the first time the group have toured the States without our founder Simon Cox & Artistic Director Matthew Knight and I must admit I feel the added weight of responsibility, with all car hires booked under my name and tour expenses on my credit card. This is however no more responsibility than I bear in my day-to-day life in London, as a co-parent to two lively kids & joint bread-winner & household-runner with my much appreciated (thanks so much for the solo-parenting stint I’ve saddled you with!) partner Lorna. I simply wear a slightly different ‘dad hat’ on this trip, overseeing check-ins, paying for hold luggage, overseeing the music pads, mute stands, Aunt Dina the car horn and getting instruments through security checkpoints and onto planes – all things which have often been a major source of stress. Thankfully today’s trip was smooth as buhddah (as they might say around here).

I’ve been aided immensely by the modifications I commissioned brass technician Andy Clennell to make to one of my trombones – which is now a ‘screw-bell’ bass trombone that fits neatly into any overhead compartment but shamefully makes it look like I’m carrying a viola on my back. The newfound ease of travel marginally offset by irreparable damage to my reputation and street cred. Worth it? At this stage I would say yes. Barely.

As the tour travel had been booked before these modifications were made I had an extra seat on the plane which the dinky bass trombone didn’t need. This seat came in handy when a super-sized American man arrived in a very sweaty & flustered state & attempted to squeeze himself into a seat on the adjacent row of the tiny aircraft. Not the smallest man myself, and at times in my life much larger, I could empathise with this big man’s struggle & strife. When I discerned that he stood very little chance of fitting into his seat without his bulk spilling over onto his neighbour’s lap I decided to take the selfless route and surrender my private row for everyone’s benefit. This put me in the good graces of the flight attendant, who looked me in the eyes with a sort-of glazed admiration and said ‘you are a very kind man’. She may have reevaluated her opinion had she seen the GIFs I was posting in the tour WhatsApp thread.

My goodwill gesture must have tipped the karmic scales in my favour, because on arrival in Rochester I found the car hire counter was located directly next to the baggage reclaim conveyor belt. As if that wasn’t convenient enough, the van we hired was located about 100 metres from the terminal exit. I can only hope the universe continues to smile upon me for our remaining travel connections the rest of the tour!

Battle Bus 5.0 was a typical Ford 12-seater, and once we were loaded-in & buckled-up we were hurtling towards Geneva. It hadn’t occurred to me that the famous ‘Fall Colo(u)rs’ of this region would still be on display; vibrant reds, oranges, yellows in every shade imaginable were on show in the lush forests nestled on both sides of the motorway. The visual stimuli were uplifting and helped me motor us into the lush town of Geneva, itself nestled amongst the Finger Lakes, reminiscent of the geographical situation of its Swiss namesake.

As the Battle Bus glided into our hotel car park I noticed a sight which would make any Canadian’s spirits buoyed: a Tim Horton’s restaurant sat situated on the next street corner. Lunch was sorted (for me at least). Once I polished off my turkey & bacon club sandwich – served on a pretzel bagel… delicious, eh! – I decided to activate full ‘dad mode’ and purchase a dozen donuts of myriad assortment for the squad.

As we loaded into the van for the second concert of the tour at the Smith Opera House (or Smith Center for the Arts, depending on who you speak to) I offered my half-dozen colleagues their sugary Canadian treats and I must say the strategy worked, because we all bounded into the charming & aesthetically beautiful Geneva venue with a renewed energy and enthusiasm for counterfactual brass septet music.

The Smith was built in the late 19th century & had an acoustic which was decidedly more forgiving than the auditorium we performed in the night before a mere 600 miles away in Chicago. My colleagues settled into the dressing rooms while Pete Moore and I psyched ourselves up for another added responsibility which has fallen to us on this tour; something Coxy & Knighty used to take care of on occasion: the pre-concert talk. Pete Moore and I decided to fulfil this commitment on this occasion and it proved to be quite entertaining. Finding new and inventive ways to explain why our group doesn’t feature any French Horns, where we all come from and the subsequent question: why my accent is so bizarre & at times indecipherable.

Two valued guest players are accompanying us on this tour; James’s brother Thomas Fountain, the principal trumpet of the BBC Philharmonic, is making his Septura debut and Kaitlin Wild – recently appointed 2nd trumpet of the Royal Philharmonic – is yet again proving to be a superstar substitute for us, having saved the tour before even producing a note by replacing a member who had to pull out with very late notice due to a family emergency. We literally wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her accommodating us in her busy schedule, and that’s before I even mention her exceptionally classy contributions musically. From the first rehearsal in London it was apparent that this was a very special line-up of trumpets; the three players grew up performing together and as a result their blend and balance is amongst the best sounds the group has ever achieved.

A 3rd non-human guest who has come along for the ride is the aforementioned Aunt Dina, the car horn – affectionately named after the protagonist of the final movement of our suite from Scott Joplin’s Treemonisha, Aunt Dina Blowed De Horn. In our concert she swoops into action during the first minutes of our arrangement of An American in Paris. I’ve been overseeing Dina’s transportation and general wellbeing but Kaitlin is the musical juggler who has to operate Dina whilst simultaneously tooting on her trumpet. She’s come a long way in developing this tricky skill since she first attempted it at a Royal Academy of Music side-by-side scheme concert in recent years, where she lost control of the horn & couldn’t contain her laughter – her doubling quickly reducing to zeroing. Fast forward a year or two to the present day and you will witness Kaitlin’s calm mastery of the difficult double on our tour this year. Unfortunately Dina has a lot to say in the matter, and in Geneva she nearly perished. Rumours of Dina’s demise were wide of the mark however and she continues to live on happily and healthily.

From Geneva we piled into the Battle Bus and drove to a familiar destination on Septura USA tours: Schenectady, NY. Pete Moore did this driving shift, and as I rode shotgun we were both wowed by the autumnal colours which took on a new intensity of beauty. The Chapel nestled in the campus of Union College dates from the 18th Century and is amongst the best acoustics we have ever played in. My previous visit here found the campus covered in February snow, but this October we found it lush with thick green lawns and the red/auburn/orange/yellows of autumn. We treated our audience, who our host Derek described as ‘hard core’ concert series subscribers, to our 3rd concert of the tour. When I casually asked the audience in the final on-stage chat how to properly pronounce the town’s name I was slightly rattled to hear the assembled congregation produce one unison and rather intimidating ‘SCHENECTADY’. I quickly signed off, forgetting to thank the tour sponsor Dorico, and slunk back to my stand to breathlessly perform Gershwin’s An American in Paris for them & quickly escape in case they produced pitchforks and the like.