New Legacy: My Most Memorable Musical Experience
Charmaine M. Nokuri
At that tender age of nine, when I started playing the trumpet, I didn’t know how
the selection of this instrument would shape my journey as an African American female
and the valuable lessons about perseverance I would learn as I grew as a musician.
Recently, Wynton Marsalis wrote a book called “Moving to Higher Ground: How Jazz
Can Change Your Life.” In it Mr. Marsalis explained how music, particularly jazz, can
bring people of all hues, political views, religions, and regions together. His assertion
bought back the bitter and the sweet of my musical journey which has included jazz,
gospel, r & b, world and classical.
One particular classical experience that comes to mind, occurred during May of
1995 when my high school symphonic band began preparing for our performance at The
Kennedy Center. Under the baton of Carl J. Bianchi, the James Madison High School Band
in Vienna, Virginia was selected for the first time as winners of “The WGMS 103.5
Young Artists in the Community”. The repertoire for this performance was particularly
challenging, including the work Samuel Barber’s “Symphony in One Movement.”
One day during the rehearsal of the Barber Symphony, the young man I was
dating at the time, a handsome white tenor sax player, kept tossing little love notes to me
and at one point missed his part in the music. When the conductor stopped the band, our
mutual friend and drum major who played baritone sax, turned to him and whispered “If
you weren’t throwing notes back to the jungle you wouldn’t have missed your part.”
Hearing the racial epitaph drip from the lips of someone who I had admired and called
friend was heart breaking. However, despite my hurt I had to continue playing.
Later during the rehearsal we came to the very difficult ending of the Allegro ma
non troppo movement and the trumpet/cornet section was not performing it well. To
determine the weak link we had to go down the row and perform it individually. I sat
patiently in the cornet section for my turn and watched a few trumpet players loose their
chairs because of missed notes. When it came for my turn to play a sense of pride stirred
in me. I was not from the jungle. I was not sub-human. I was a classical trumpet player in
the tradition of Wynton Marsalis with the beauty and elegance of a Kathleen Battle or
Marian Anderson. Because of the sacrifices of those who came before me, I was now
playing among the best and the brightest young musicians in the nation. I would not,
could not, let them down.
This descendant of slaves placed her horn to her lips and played the challenging
cornet part with precision. When I finished, some of the other band members actually
cheered because a few others before me had failed. In that moment, I was no longer just a
descendant of slaves, a child of second class citizens; I was one of the progenitors of a
new musical legacy. This new legacy of African American youth stands up against the
ridicule of appreciating classical music and does not fall prey to the Hip Hop Culture, but
instead uses their instruments to overcome racist stereotypes and crack infested
environments. While most of our friends were out partying and listening to Dr. Dre, we
were at home painstakingly doing Arban exercises or Clarke Studies.
I believe by continuing my studies at The Peabody Institute in the Jazz Studies
Program, I will be better equipped to play my role as an example of how African
Americans must still strive for excellence in the face of adversity.