Specialization

I've been on a kick lately regarding "general knowledge". After years and years of being honed in on one or two subjects, trumpet, vegan food, Proust and/or Melville (depending on what was lightest to carry), the Muppets, I had realized that a good, round, broad set of skills could be very rewarding. I don't know anything about geology, physics, expressionist art, or agriculture for example. I was jumping head deep into a ton of topics willy nilly, hoping to glean enough to become some sort of second coming renaissance man. I would be lying if I said that I had not fantasized about being a experimental music James Bond that walked around quoting Rilke and could fix HVAC units with a well placed smirk all while fixing the world's psychological problems with superhugs and a damsel in distresses broken heel with a compound made of crushed waterbug and wheat gluten. When you fantasize, fantasize big. I had a little bit of an epiphany today when I went to the doctor. I have only made it through the blood-letting process twice in my entire life without passing out like a giant, hairy rag doll. I wake up every time hearing the most beautiful nurse in the room say "It's always the big ones that pass out". Beyond this not being very physically comfortable it is quite a blow to my all too fragile ego. Needless to say, I put off the doctor whenever I can. Shanda was behind this visit, so I knew there would be no chance to back out. A new woman took my blood, a 50 year old Jamaican woman named Darliss with bright red hair. Her husband and her were born on the same date as me and she was very sad about his recent passing. I don't know why I found all of this out, as I just sat there passively with the tourniquet turning my right arm into a sweaty pulsing sausage, but before I knew it....PLUNK....right into the vein, blood everywhere, UNPLUNK....out again and she had a bandaid on me and was ready to pat my little white butt out the door. As I walked out the door onto Union Square, I thought how beautiful it is when someone can do something really well, something that they have done a million times, and have raised to an art form. I'm still interested in finding out what birds live in my neighborhood or the history of the Oregon Territory, but I kind of like where I am, with my few specialties, and I hope that some day I can bring someone as much comfort as Darliss brought to me today. Speaking of specialization, Clifford Allen, has used his specific talents to a horrible end, and has decided to interview me for bagatellen.com. The interview went up today and is much different from the PT kicks of a couple of weeks ago. I consider my 15 minutes up at this point. http://www.bagatellen.com/?p=2421 And, to follow the thread further, I will be performing a series of new compositions with two fine specialists this weekend: Johannes Lauer (trombone, piano, composition)Tyshawn Sorey (drums, trombone, piano, composition)Nate (I just play the trumpet)maybe someone else doing something else? Saturday August 1st8 pmThe Stone2nd street and Ave C 10.00 mugs.

PT Interview!

Oh, for the love of Pete, someone actually wanted to know what I thought of trumpet and stuff. Man, was that a mistake. Also, check it my "attempt to look serious like I'm in a Ukrainian jail" photo that I took of myself in my friend, Bojan's bathroom. If you look at my picture next to Mattin's (a double interview issue!) we look a lot alike, something that I am sure will make him very sad.

Here's the link:

http://www.paristransatlantic.com/magazine/interviews/wooley.html

I'm pretty sure it is great reading while waiting for your TP reports are loading or during the commercials in Judge Judy, or whatever it is that you do on a Friday afternoon.

have a great weekend and give yourself a kiss from me!

What Ifs.

I often indulge myself in a little wonderlust about the subtle and important phenomenological quandries of the day. In other, flowerier words, I enjoy having a raucous tea party with the butterfly effect. Now, of course, we have all George Bailey'd ourselves and daydreamed how awful the world would be if we had never been born (for me there would have been no one to watch City Confidential or silently catalog all of the regional toppings at Subway, not too much of a loss). I, in my great benevolence, have decided to eschew (someone got a thesaurus for christmas!) the negative aspect of this game and concentrate on the positive.

In that spirit, here is the dream I had last night. It is the 1989. Albert Ayler has not succumbed to the devil in his beard and never washed up in the Hudson. He, in fact, has gone in slightly the same route that Pharoah Sanders did, the route that he presaged in his last record (his best in my opinion and I am fucking willing to fight about it too), New Grass. This leads to a monumental genre hopping circle jerk album with him screeching "New Generation" over the top of some Terminator X beats in a Public Enemy/Albert Ayler blockbuster. I am 15 and play the trumpet. One day I go down to the Hi-School Pharmacy in Clatskanie 7.99 in pennies in the pocket of my carhartts and am going to buy a new cassette tape from Mrs. Carman to play in my rad new boombox. The choices are there, same as in the reality we have now.....Miles Davis "Sketches of Spain", KISS "Animalize" and "The Best of George Jones"....but wait, there is a 4th choice...."Sunshine Riot" by Public Enemy/Albert Ayler. Well, I have the Jones and KISS, so the choice is clear. I buy the cassette, pop it into my TEAC and everything becomes very clear to me. The trumpet is put under my bed and the next 19 years are devoted solely to a Mishima Sun and Steel type of militance. I drop out of high school and punch frozen sides of beef in the local abattoir while reciting Baudelaire and Lao Tze. Slowly, the followers come around. I take over Longview, WA on the platform of year round McRib Sandwiches at McDonalds. We press forward to Portland, leaving Kalama in flames. By the millenium, I have created the bloodiest fascist regime the US has ever seen. My new country is called Emeraldia and encompasses all of the west coast, plus Vancouver BC, Mexico, Rhode Island, and Bangor, ME. Inevitably, in 2004, I start a war to take over the rest of the "heathen confedaracy" and.....


nuclear holocaust.


so see, things happen for a reason.

Be thankful that I'll just be playing at IBeam on Saturday with another possible tyrant, Peter Evans.

Ibeam Studios
168 7th StreetBrooklyn, NY 11215
Directions:
SUBWAYTake the F or R trains to 4th Ave & 9th Street. Walk down 4th ave to 7th street. Make a left on 7th and walk past 3rd ave. We are located on the ground floor, the grey doors to the right of the stairs of #168.
Nate Wooley and Peter Evans DuoNate Wooley – Trumpet/EffectsPeter Evans – Trumpet/EffectsYou could refer to Nate Wooley and Peter Evans as trumpet extremists. No matter how they wield their horns, both tend toward the boundary-straining end of the spectrum. (Shaun Brady)10:00 pmDan Peck TrioDan Peck (tuba)Tom Blancarte (bass)and Brian Osborne (drums)Come hear the soundtrack to the end of the world as the trio explores the lowest thresholds of human hearing. Combining compositions that evoke Doom metal and improvisations that suggest Braxton, the trio focuses on the tuba and bass as a sub-sonic duo, with the percussion adding punctuation to their down sounds.

power to the people.....for now.

love,
Nate

Thank you Dave!

I feel incredibly honored to be part of a short list of solo trumpet players talked about in Dave Douglas' article for the great destination:out website. Not only is it a treat for me to even have my name mentioned by Dave (tickling my memory bones of driving around Denver in my Subaru Wagon driving Shanda nuts with my cassette of Constellations), but to look at the list and have some of my very favorites (Greg Kelley, Toshinori Kondo) is too much. I'm trying not to beam too much, but ultimately it is an interesting article with a lot of great and hard to find solo trumpet.

http://destination-out.com/?p=254