Dan Bernstein got his first blat out of a trombone when he was in fourth grade. Now in his seventies, the retired newspaper columnist who lives in Riverside, California, is still playing his ax - still for little or no money at all. He Kept His Day Job, described by one reviewer as a "love letter" disguised as a memoir, takes readers on a musical joy ride through bumpy, challenging and exhilarating terrain: the hate-to-practice years, "frightfully flat" solo contests, high school bands and orchestras, Stanford's purported "marching" band, an adult community college jazz band, a perfect-chemistry brass quintet, an assisted-living center in Oregon and a Riverside hospital's ICU and oncology units where Bernstein played for patients and harried staff. This is where the idea for this book was born. Though just one small story, this Fanfare for the Common Musician is meant to be contagious, inspiring young musicians to keep playing and adults, particularly those with day jobs, to take their instruments, tap shoes and paint brushes out of the attic and fall in love all over again.
He Kept His Day Job: Fanfare for the Common Musician
Dan Bernstein got his first blat out of a trombone when he was in fourth grade. Now in his seventies, the retired newspaper columnist who lives in Riverside, California, is still playing his ax - still for little or no money at all. He Kept His Day Job, described by one reviewer as a "love letter" disguised as a memoir, takes readers on a musical joy ride through bumpy, challenging and exhilarating terrain: the hate-to-practice years, "frightfully flat" solo contests, high school bands and orchestras, Stanford's purported "marching" band, an adult community college jazz band, a perfect-chemistry brass quintet, an assisted-living center in Oregon and a Riverside hospital's ICU and oncology units where Bernstein played for patients and harried staff. This is where the idea for this book was born. Though just one small story, this Fanfare for the Common Musician is meant to be contagious, inspiring young musicians to keep playing and adults, particularly those with day jobs, to take their instruments, tap shoes and paint brushes out of the attic and fall in love all over again.