So I’ve written about my band geek days in high school, but haven’t really said much about my band geeky days from college. I did a lot of great playing, my best playing, while I was in college. Musically, I never had a more fun and productive period than my final two years of college, spent at Five Towns College.
There were two ensembles that were huge part of my musical happiness those last two years. I was coming out of a disastrous situation at Purchase College, unsure of my future as a performer, and was on the verge of completely burning out with the horn. Greg Bobulinski told me once that playing the trumpet was like fighting a war, and while I never took the metaphor literally, I was experiencing exactly the struggle that he warned was coming. These two ensembles were of paramount importance where extending my trumpet-playing life was considered. They made music and playing the trumpet fun again.
Breaking Wind
Breaking Wind was the official unofficial name of our brass quintet. Me, Mike Mitnick, Alex Baez, Fran Kaczmarek, and Joe Astarita.
Though Breaking Wind was active between 2002 and 2004, the seeds were planted back in 2000. The Five Towns music department had planned out this big production of John Rutter’s Gloria to be performed at St. Peter’s Church in Manhattan. A brass quintet was formed to play some entrance and intermission music for that night, and Alex and myself were a part of that quintet.
Upon my return to Five Towns in the fall of 2002 and reuniting with Alex, we both had the same thought: Let’s get the quintet back together. Alex played trombone, so we needed a trumpet, a french horn, and a tuba. We found a trumpet and tuba quite easily, almost as if by fate. Mike Mitnick and Fran the Enforcer were on board and the 4 of us became incredibly quick and great friends. The trouble was finding a french horn player. Now that the 4 of us gelled together so damn well, the french horn player needed to not only play well, but also fit in with us personally.
We failed to land a french horn, but somebody (not me) thought that maybe we could use a second trombone instead. Enter Joe Astarita, a ‘bone player with raw energy, stupid good range, and a personality and sense of humor that meshed. We were whole again!
Our first name was Bone Horns ‘n Harmony, but we ditched that due to trademark and copyright issues. Then we decided to go by the name Horny Guys. It was a fun play on words, but some people suggested it might be a little too playful. Then we referred to ourselves as Breaking Wind at performances, though we still threw the other names in from time to time.
The best part about us: We were good.
The second best part about us: We didn’t take ourselves too seriously.
Though we fought at every possible corner to keep Five Towns from branding us an official performance ensemble for the school, we essentially were ambassadors for the instrumental program. We were evidence (along with another ensemble that I’ll write about here in a moment) that the instrumental department was every bit as talented and skilled as the over-pampered, ever-praised and shoved-down-everybody’s-throat vocal department.
We had a varied repertoire, but our flagship songs included Jack Gale arrangements of “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” and “Fly Me to the Moon.” We also exquisitely played the Canadian Brass arrangements of the Beatles’ songs “Penny Lane” and “When I’m Sixty-Four,” and much less exquisitely “Come Together.” Page 8!!!
FTJO
Much like Breaking Wind, there’s not enough web space for me to begin to describe how awesome and amazing my time with the Five Towns Jazz Orchestra was. It was four semesters of incredible music, even more incredible instruction, and fun times.
The first semester, we were under the direction of Chuck Mymit and co-direction of Jeffrey Sultanof (yes, THE Jeffrey Sultanof). Under Mymit, we had a much more contemporary big band feel. All the charts we played that semester we Mymit’s own arrangements, and it was high octane stuff. I had always geared my training towards being a lead player in a big band, and it was good to actually be playing in a big band again. My time at Purchase was spent trying to develop a more solo/small ensemble style of playing. That was the main focus with Purchase’s Jazz Studies program. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it wasn’t a nice marriage between me and the program.
The following semester, there was some drama where the FTJO’s leadership was concerned, and we were now under the sole direction of Jeffrey Sultanof. Ok, that’s not entirely true. We had another director that replaced Mymit, but he sucked real bad and I don’t believe he should count as being co-director.
If you’ve never heard of Jeffrey Sultanof, go look him up right now. A tremendous musical mind he is, with a passion for jazz history, he took the jazz orchestra to a whole new level. I have to admit though, I was worried at first. Sultanof, or Mojo as we called him, was prepared to have us play these decades old charts. I was a very forward-thinking musician, always looking to take the next step and not really tread where those before me had already been. My impression was that we were going to become a typical and generic swing band.
Man, did I have him and this music pegged wrong! This was not your grandpappy’s swing, not by a long shot. The beauty of these charts Mojo had us playing was that they hadn’t been played anywhere at any time since around the time they were written. They had been locked up and in a variety of different estates and unheard from for years and years and years, but Mojo had connections. He procured these charts, and with most of them, we were the first to play them since the original band played them.
Mojo ran a tight ship too. He knew he was directing a bunch of clowns, so he let us have our goof-off moments here and there, but you would get the Mojo Stare if it went too far. He chuckled along with our shenanigans, but never truly full-out laughed… except for this one time….
Mike Mitnick would bring his lunch almost everyday, a club sandwich his mother would make for him, wrapped neatly in foil. He would keep this sandwich in a little shopping bag that he also kept his mutes in. So at one rehearsal, we were shedding this tune that Mike had a muted solo in. We’re going through real nice, everything’s sounding great, until we get to Mike’s solo. We hit it and this god-awful sound emanates from Mike’s side of the trumpet section. I didn’t even have to look to know what was going on, but I just had to see it: Mike was playing his solo… with his foil-wrapped sandwich jammed into the bell of his horn. I nearly came out of my chair in laughter, I was holding back the tears and my sides were cramping at stifling the chuckles. Mojo cut off us right quick, and gave Mitnick the Mojo Stare, and nobody dared to keep laughing. Mojo asked, “Mike… what the heck is that?” And with the straightest face and straightest delivery, Mike answers, “What? It’s my sandwich mute!”
While this humor was par for the course with Mike and the rest of us, the stare from Mojo after Mike explained his sandwich mute made it seem like we all had just crossed a line. But then Mojo busted out laughing. It was absolutely classic. I will never, ever forget that.
