After a vintage Septura schlep (my alarm was set for 5am in Baltimore) we arrived in Huntsville 10 hours later (via 2 flights & a solid 2-hour drive) for the start of the Texas leg of the tour. Considering our indulgences at the reception in Baltimore the previous evening (thanks again to the Rosenbergs for their soup-er hospitality) it could be claimed that group morale was not at its peak through our journey. Luckily we had a couple of hours downtime on arrival to soak in the scenery of a rainy Huntsville, Texas. 

Huntsville is a small town 70 miles north of Houston which is famed for being the home to one of the most celebrated heroes of Texan history: Major General, President of the Republic of Texas and US Senator Sam Houston. As we pulled in from Interstate 45 it was hard to miss the 70-foot statue of the famous general and politician, who played a key role in securing the enormous state’s independence from Mexico and subsequent annexation by the United States. Our venue for the tour’s first proper outing of the Borrowed Baroque programme was located on campus at Sam Houston State University. 

With our metaphorical batteries charged we took to the stage to polish up some corners in Stravinsky’s Pulcinella and bathed in the sonic warmth of another luxurious acoustic. As I’ve mentioned before, the wealth of stunning concert halls everywhere in the United States puts Britain to shame. The Stravinsky is by and large the most technically challenging piece we’ve brought with us on tour and I for one was looking forward to getting a performance under our belts in Texas. 

As we stepped on stage for the concert I noticed a familiar face amongst the appreciative audience, in the form of a friend and colleague from my days at the University of North Texas: Aric Schneller. Aric was a doctoral trombone candidate at UNT while I belatedly finished my undergraduate studies in 2005 and is now the head of jazz studies at SMHU. Though we only crossed paths for a year or so at university, seeing him gave me a much needed boost of enthusiasm, which had flagged slightly after the rigours of the day’s travel. Despite our drained reserves of energy the whole group played a blinder and I think we set the bar pretty high for upcoming performances of the Baroque programme. The soloists in the Handel (suite from Rinaldo) were particular stars, and the Matts took showboating in the Prokofiev piano suite to new levels – they certainly kept me entertained. When it came to the Stravinsky I imagine the audience would never have guessed that it was Pete Smith’s first performance of the piece, and despite the difficulty of the arrangement it went remarkably well. The arrangement works really well and plays to the group’s strengths. I hope we get a chance to record it in the not-too-distant future. 

After the show we caught up with a few audience members, signed some CDs and then Aric showed us the infamous maximum security penitentiary which sits on the border of the SHSU campus and houses the execution facilities for the State of Texas. I’d personally be a bit unnerved doing my studies with a building full of convicted Death Row murderers only a few hundred yards from the university library, but the prison walls are reassuringly tall and perimeter patrol cars thoroughly scout the area for would-be prison breakers. That being said there have been the occasional escapee, one of whom pedalled his way onto the nearby Interstate on a stolen BMX before being returned to his cell. As there weren’t any sidewalks (pavements), the sight of 6 British musicians and 1 Canadian/British bass trombone operator must have looked pretty suspicious to the patrolmen and I thought I noticed them take an interest in us as we walked under the walls. Luckily it wasn’t a long walk to the town square which, in its heyday would have made a fairly typical backdrop for a spaghetti western shootout. We slid into a saloon and sampled some fine local craft beer before retiring to our beds back on campus, just over the road from Death Row.

The following morning we cruised up the Interstate towards Fort Worth in our behemoth Chevy Suburban. I used to turn my nose up at people who drove these tank-sized comfort cruisers, hogging multiple lanes at any given time, but now I can see the appeal – especially in contrast to the latest Battle Bus we had in the Carolinas, a vehicle which lacked any charm (or suspension to speak of). A few of the lads drove a small Ford Hybrid while Pete, Coxy and I floated northwards on a 4-wheel-drive cushion of luxurious carbon emissions. 

As we entered Fort Worth our grumbling tummies (possibly stretched already by a week of American indulgence) navigated us towards a well-reviewed Tex-Mex restaurant for lunch before the group was due at Texas Wesleyan University for a Q & A with the students and faculty there. The students had some great questions for us and members of Septura provided some insights into the working mind of a British orchestral (or in my case ‘orchestral-ish’) brass player. We were asked to outline our philosophy towards individual practice, so I obviously deferred and allowed the group’s more committed practicers to respond. 

The second outing of Borrowed Baroque went well enough that we thought we deserved a couple of celebratory beverages, so we ventured into beautiful downtown Fort Worth to the Flying Saucer, which I have waxed lyrically about in a previous edition of this blog. There had been rumours that a legendary trumpet player (and fellow Canadian), Jens Lindemann, could be joining us for a drink since he was performing down the road at Texas Christian University the same night. Jens has been a hero of mine since he performed with my junior high school band in Calgary when I was just starting to learn the trombone. Soon after hearing him for the first time he became a member of Canadian Brass where his accomplishments there are widely acknowledged as some of the finest trumpet playing recorded to CD (in my humble opinion). Jens himself is a hurricane of energy & charisma, and he made a dramatic entrance by treating us to his best Game of Thrones-esque Northern accent whilst greeting his great friend Huw Morgan. Jens chatted with us about the direction of the group and what plans were currently in the pipeline. He even coached Knighty on the correct (North American) pronunciation of the term ‘baroque’ (bah-roake) which will come in handy as we continue on up the road to Oklahoma, Arkansas and then our return to Texas for the TMEA conference on Valentines Day. 

It was two years since our last tour around the USA. The previous one – an epic ten day dash, many six hour drives, culminating in some remarkable, against-all-odds concerts – had left us with some great memories, but a little anxious as to what might be letting ourselves into this time. 

On paper it looked tough: three weeks, one day off, the biggest test of our stamina yet. The only time we could rehearse was on the morning of the flight, so we all braved rush hour laden with instruments, mutes and suitcases for a 9am start at a church near Gloucester Road. Pete unveiled his newly pimped tuba – a modification job gleaming in gold and sure to bring tuba aficionados flocking to Pete with questions throughout the tour.

I surprised everyone by announcing that I was going vegetarian for the month. ‘In America…no chance’, I hear. Peals of laughter, mocking and the general lack of support suggested that they were intent of breaking me. Well played them – trash talking me typically steadies my resolve, so their witty banter was actually doing me a favour. 

Happily the rest of the day went as you would expect. Ubers to London Heathrow, a quick Bloody Mary and then a nice quiet flight over to Atlanta. We obviously had to endure the usual palava when checking in Pete’s tuba, but that is just expected now. Upon arrival we picked up the first of our minibuses. Traditionally they don’t seem to fair too well in our hands, and sure enough a few miles into our journey to Clemson we lost part of the boot. A few hours later, tired and hungry, we arrived at our hotel. Some of us popped out for a slice of pizza and then all crashed for some much needed sleep.

A few of the group woke in the night to colossal claps of thunder, and sure enough the morning brought with it phone alerts warning us of flooding and tornadoes in the area. Sure, it was raining quite hard, but we had all expirienced far worse during the British Summer! We went about our morning relaxing, exercising, catching-up with admin and chatting to family back home before heading down to the concert hall for our first concert. However, disaster was around the corner. Halfway through our rehearsal we were interrupted by some very glum faces. The gig was to be cancelled. The Brooks Center had been ordered to close because of the weather. We couldn’t believe it, it was a mere shower – I dread to think what a dusting of snow would do to the place. The group was upset. We had been looking forward to getting the tour started, and at the eleventh hour it had been snatched away from us. It was a shame for everyone, not least the expected seven-hundred strong audience, one of whom had flown in from Florida, and trumpet legend Phil Smith, who was planning to bring his entire trumpet class up from the University of Georgia. 

So we did what any group would have done in these circumstances and retired to the safety of the pub. The promoter very kindly took us out for a meal which we washed down with some local beer, before popping across the road to a classic American bar, to assault our senses watching sport we don’t quite understand, playing pool and computer games. Simon surprised everyone (even himself) when his thin, feeble frame somehow managed to win most powerful punch on the boxing game. 

We got chatting to the uber driver on our way back to the hotel. He very proudly spoke of how back in the ‘70s he had played soccer for Chelsea. He moved to Leicester first – my hometown, ‘go on, tell us more’ – and was picked up by a scout having never played professionally. It was only right at the end of the conversation that he dropped in that it was just once… for the second team. 

The next day dawned bright and sunny, and we departed the hotel around 8:30am to head for the Hartness Performing Arts Center where we were to perform a short forty-five minute concert to high school kids. We took the opportunity to give the other tour programme, ‘Borrowed Boroque’, an outing. Some of the audience from the previous night had heard about this short performance and managed to come along, so hopefully they have not left Clemsen too disappointed.

So the tour is up and running, Davidson in North Carolina is up next which, barring another force majeure, should see the first performance of our latest programme ‘One Equal Music’, which you can also catch in the Wigmore Hall on February 27.

Septura’s 2019 season started with a 6 a.m. check-in at Heathrow, as we made our way to Detmold (via Hannover) in Germany. Despite my calm and exacting instructions from the navigation seat, Simon Cox’s driving of the battle bus filled the group with trepidation – he requires constant reminding to drive on the right side of the road, and we had flashbacks of his terrifying traffic-cone near-miss in America 2018. 

We were staying outside Detmold in the sleepy and appropriately-named town of Bad-Horn. We lunched in a local tavern, where the arrival of seven Londoners seemed to come as a bit of an unwelcome surprise, eliciting a rather lukewarm reception, but nevertheless hearty German fodder. 

The concert hall at the Hochschule für Musik, Detmold

Our programme for the concert at the Detmold Hochschule für Musik was called ‘Human Nature’ and featured the first performance of a brand new commission – Imprints by the Norwegian composer Bjorn Skjelbred. With London in the grip of the Extinction Rebellion protests it seemed fitting that the subject of Bjorn’s piece was the destructive effect of humanity on the natural world. Despite this austere subject-matter, the piece highlights the lyrical side of the brass septet, and ends like the Farewell symphony, with players dropping out one-by-one. There was a concern in the performance that Sasha Koushk-Jalali was so immersed in the soundworld, revelling in it with his eyes closed, that the piece might in fact last forever. In the end Simon Cox brought proceedings to a close with his lone mournful trumpet, and the audience applauded enthusiastically as the composer himself joined Septura on stage.

Septura rehearsing on stage

The next day we were fortunate enough to have the opportunity of coaching some of the excellent brass students at the Hochschule. Passing on our particular approach to both solo and ensemble brass playing is always a joy, especially when the standard of playing is as high as this. Energised by the experience, we reconvened as a group in the evening to rehearse for another upcoming project. After the battering our lips had received in Septura’s version of Swan Lake the night before, it was a bit of a relief to turn our attention the slightly more transparent textures of Copland’s Appalachian Spring.  This was the first rehearsal for the American recording that will take place in November, and after months of hearing our Dorico software performing its electronic version, it was pleasing to hear the new arrangement brought to life so skilfully by the incredible musicians of Septura. 

The stunning Hochschule für Musik, Detmold

After a long day’s work we were glad to relax with a drink (the driver Simon Cox excepted) in the company of our convivial hosts – Klaus and Otmar, the trumpet and trombone professors of the Hochschule. After much chat and a couple of beers we retired to the hotel, ready to travel the next day to Austria.

The weather. We often make fun of ourselves in the UK for being so obsessed with it. The last few days have demonstrated that if anything we don’t worry about it enough. We had been eagerly anticipating our debut in the Sounds of the Dolomites festival, which would see us trek high into the mountains for an outdoor performance. The scenic backdrop promised to be spectacular, and it was sure to be a concert to remember. Alas, with just three days to go word came through that, due to the weather forecast, the concert had been moved to an indoor venue. Oh well we thought, that was always a possibility, and lightning and metal instruments probably don’t make good bedfellows at high altitude.

This would have been where we performed – there’s always next time!

What we weren’t anticipating was a text message from British Airways telling us that our flights had been cancelled with 24 hours notice. Various possible reasons were put forward, including thunderstorms and problems at air traffic control. Whatever the cause, we had to find a way to get to Italy – if you’re running a music festival you can’t really sub in an entirely different act for a concert that large numbers of people have bought tickets for, so for us as the artists it doesn’t matter what the circumstances are, you get there.

Being the height of the summer holidays, replacement options were thin on the ground. It quickly became apparent that we weren’t going to be able to fly to an airport anywhere near the concert venue in northern Italy, so it was time to cast the net a little wider – would there be time to drive there from Rome? Munich? Zurich? Could we get the train or drive the whole way? Eventually, after seven hours of phone calls and Skyscanner searches, and more than one loss of temper (once again, sincere apologies to Jessica at BA) a solution was found: a 7am flight to Frankfurt, and a further flight from there to Milan. The only question that remained was how we were going to get the tuba there. I won’t bore you with the details, but after a few hours sleep and more phone calls (and another loss of temper, sorry to Ingrid at Lufthansa) we were all set.

Brutal

Our alarms set for 3.40am the following morning, we headed to bed, glad that we were still going to make the trip, but with some trepidation at the day ahead of us. The journey itself went fairly smoothly (although if you can understand the signage in Frankfurt airport you’re a better person than me). Eventually we landed at Milan Malpensa, already with 10 hours of travel under our belts, and a further 4 to come on the bus to Trentino. We arrived at the Auditorium del Polo Scolastico di Cles about two hours before the concert was due to start, and after a quick sandwich and shower (thanks to our Italian agent Rosalba for bringing the towels – an absolute godsend) we headed into a rehearsal. This was the first time we were to perform our new arrangement of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake Suite, so we did a thorough check of the musical ‘corners’ that were most likely to pose problems – generally involving changes of tempo or character. The other works in the programme, Debussy’s Préludes and Gershwin’s An American in Paris, are very familiar to us so didn’t need much rehearsal, which we were grateful for given the time pressure.

14 hours of travel and morale is still high

I should take a moment here to point out that only five of us had to endure this gruelling schedule. Trombonist Pete Moore was already in Italy taking part in another festival, and Matt Knight had flown out a day early to pick him up and drive him north to our hotel. The good news is that they were very supportive, and no mention was made of their day spent in a mountain chalet, enjoying a walk by the nearby pristine lake, and a leisurely three-course meal at a local hostelry, followed by a much-needed 2-hour nap.

I’m often amazed by what my fellow Septura members are able to deliver in difficult circumstances, but never more so than on stage during this concert. Swan Lake is a great addition to our repertoire, and much like our recently-recorded version of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker, we found that his music works incredibly well for brass.

Huw models the festival merchandise

After the concert we were whisked off to a local pizzeria for a meal with Rosalba, then it was back to our hotel to finally get some sleep. Tomorrow we head to Lithuania which means dealing with more airline staff, but surely we’re due some good karma…?

The final concert day of a Septura tour (or ‘SepTOURa’ – a cringe-inducing term which I unsuccessfully tried to moniker earlier this week) is always bittersweet. It’s fun performing and socialising with great friends in a new and exciting country, but by the final day I find the desire to get home and reunite with my long-suffering wife and kids to be a bit heart-wrenching. Luckily today began with the welcome distraction of riding on the 320km/h Shinkansen ‘bullet train’, as Kyoto – the final destination of Septura’s debut Japanese tour – beckoned. Alarms were set for a civilised 11am departure, and I hoped that I would not be awoken by another alarmingly punctual 8am magnitude-5 earthquake, as I had the previous morning on the 11th floor of the Tokyo Metropolitan Hotel!  

Our Pro Arte Musicae support team

We were greeted in the hotel lobby by our minders for the day, sent by the promotors Pro Arte Musicae to herd us through Tokyo’s Metro system to the bustling Shinkansen terminal in the heart of the city. After several journeys this week navigating the Metro with cases and instruments I believe all of us were excited to get to a slightly smaller city. Kyoto only has 1.5 million residents – significantly smaller than the densely populated Tokyo, which is home to over 9 million people.   

Pete couldn’t hide his excitement as we waited to board, and he informed us that the Nozomi class bullet train for our journey was the fastest of the three classes of Shinkansen commissioned for the Japanese rail network. I shot a few time lapse videos for my train aficionado friends back home (4-year-old son, 2-year-old daughter and 76-year-old father-in-law included) but soon found that the scenery began speeding by at such a quick pace that normal video would do just fine! 

It is widely acknowledged that these trains run as smoothly as they do fast, and our Nozomi didn’t disappoint. Spacious coaches, even in our standard class carriage, gave us plenty of room to address the various tasks we needed to complete on this journey: Simon scoured the Charles Ives archives for music which would suitably contrast Gershwin in our upcoming American-themed recording; Matt proofread and published blog posts and social media content; Pete studied recordings for an upcoming solo gig back in the UK; Sasha, Alan and Huw caught some shut-eye and I obviously wrote the bulk of this blog – which I promised the lads wouldn’t descend into a quasi-political rant about why we can’t have such nice trains in the UK! Perhaps one day we’ll have a transport infrastructure that’s as sophisticated and efficient as the Japanese. We can always dream! We disembarked and admired the sleek contours of the Nozomi as it sailed swiftly to its next destination. As you may notice in the accompanying photo, the train’s aesthetic nicely matches the contours of my brand new Japanese-made DAC bass trombone case. Another sterling example of Japanese engineering at its finest!   

DAC’s bullet train-inspired bass trombone case

Lunch by section

After a segregated lunch (the trumpets wanted to chat about mouthpieces or something) we had a quick turnaround before another signature Septura schlep on public transport (SCHLEPtura is another nickname I’ve suggested for the group) to the venue. It’s not always Ubers and limousine buses for us!  

The Kyoto Concert Hall

We arrived at the venue for tonight’s sold out gig, the Murata stage at the Kyoto Concert Hall, and found another stunning, modern performance space with a rich acoustic for us to enjoy. I could rant about the lack of similar spaces in London but I’m afraid it would be nothing that hasn’t been said before!  

Sasha warming up

Playing for a packed-out concert hall brings out all the adrenaline and the first half proved to be very exciting! The overture, Finzi’s God Is Gone Up is anthemic and, to my ear at least, sounds about as British as it gets. Elgar’s Serenade for Strings is a staple of our repertoire these days, as is the challenging but profoundly moving Shostakovich 8th String Quartet – though neither of these pieces have made us particularly popular with our various string-playing friends and colleagues. I came off stage in the interval to FaceTime my kids and realised just how knackered I was. We went back on for the second half with renewed focus and determination, and despite the cumulative effects of several intensely demanding concerts in a row, everyone performed the Handel and Gershwin with an impressive reservoir of energy. My admiration for the musicians who I get to share the stage with in this group reaches stratospheric heights when I witness what they can accomplish musically under these demanding conditions.  

Another mammoth autograph session

After the concert we had another marathon autograph session – a ritual I’m still finding quite surreal. Audience members of all ages, including many brass players and aficionados, formed an orderly queue while the group sat along a table armed with Sharpies and smiles for selfies. Most of these delightful people have brought us their newly-bought Septura CDs or a concert programme to be signed. Many of the younger crowd presented us with more unusual items upon which we were expected to scribble our ever evolving signatures: etude books (I didn’t realise there were so many volumes of Kopprasch), instrument cases and even the odd mobile phone for us to sign. After a few photos with the keenest of the young brass players and school kids we packed up our gear for the last time as quickly as we could.

We joined some members of the local Kyoto brass ensemble for sushi, beers and some very crunchy deep-fried bits of chicken bones (mmmmm…) at a local restaurant and then we finished the night with a ‘cap de nuit’ (or two… or three) whilst playing some surprisingly competitive and spirited darts over the road. Alarms dutifully set for a 6:50am start the next morning we caught a couple of hours of sleep and prepared to schlep it back to London.