Rockin' the Barn With Buffalo Blonde

I've been playing trumpet for a rock 'n' roll band since December.
Imagine Neil Young and Crazy Horse with a trumpet player. Sure, it sounds weird on paper, but with Buffalo Blonde, the name of the band I'm in, it seems to work. Here's their web site, albeit one that hasn't been updated to reflect a few personnel changes:
http://www.buffaloblonde.com/
Before joining, I'd been playing trumpet with the wind ensembles out at Lamar University for 4 1/2 years, working my way up from the Concert Band to perennial last chair of the Wind Ensemble. I had some amazing experiences with these superb bands, but some commitments this spring and the opportunity to play with Buffalo Blonde led me in a new direction.
The transition wasn't easy, going from blending into a large group of players who meticulously and painstakingly rehearse every note of every measure of every line of every piece of music.
With Buffalo Blonde, there was nowhere to blend, run or hide. No parts that a composer had written. I had to come up with my own parts, execute them and then be ready at all times for the band to go off on some sonic foray that requires white-knuckle improvisation on my end.
I used to get nervous playing my little whole notes at the bottom of the Wind Ensemble. Now, I find myself standing with my trumpet in front of a microphone and having to figure out the key to a Buffalo Blonde's song via trial and error, much of it the latter, at least early on.
Since then, playing along to some rough demo CDs, I've managed to at least come up with parts and solos for all but a handful of the many, many Buffalo Blonde songs that have been written over the past few years. I really dig the music. The songs, basically, kick ass.
On Saturday, we played Can Jam in front of an enthusiastic crowd of dozens. It was our third gig, and this time, my wife, two boys and some neighbors came out to watch. My wife even made T-shirts for the boys, with Buffalo Blonde on the front and "My dad's with the band" on the back.
The gig took place out at the Ford Park livestock barns. It would have taken place in the big outdoor venue, but Hurricane Rita's destructive winds threw a monkey wrench into that possibility.
The second we started playing, both my boys rushed the stage, which was cute but also made me worry that they were going to climb up. I had a vision of some burly, overzealous bouncer hauling away my boys like little flour sacks.
But they were good, and they knew how to rock. Check it out:

My 4-year-old, Curt, insisted on bringing his little guitar to the proceedings. Following a day of being dragged around on the barn floor's dirt and rocks, it now looks like Willie Nelson's old guitar. But that's OK, because at least he didn't go Pete Townsend on it. And it still has a ways to go before it looks as beat up as my first guitar.