We had already drained two glasses of rakija (local homemade schnapps). ‘I’ve been to every festival for the last 25 years since my grandfather first brought me,’ said Mr Dramlić from behind his desk. Talented participants in the childrens' competition at the Guča Trumpet Festival © Aleksandar Donev / Lonely Planet My first order of business, before the floodgates opened, was to meet with Vukašin Dramlić, a Guča native and the director of the Dragačevo-Guča tourism organisation. Instead of boarding up windows, residents on both sides of the Bjelica River were preparing for a different phenomenon: the impending rush of food, alcohol and people. When I arrived to the village, the mood was still quiet – like the silence before a storm. Its passengers, shoulder-to-shoulder on bench seats, sang with abandon and passed around a clear, label-less plastic bottle. A van, with a mattress roped to the roof and brass instruments pressed against the rear window, coughed and lurched up a rise. As I turned onto the road leading to Guča, a community of about 3000 full-time citizens, the first indication of the trumpet festival and competition – which began nearly six decades ago and draws hundreds of thousands of music devotees from around the world – appeared. Then the dense forests give way to perched villages with manicured vegetable-garden aprons and orchards of sweet cherries, plums and apricots. The drive across Serbia’s Dragačevo Region, about three hours south of Belgrade, rolls over an undulating landscape carpeted with beech, oak and fir trees. Outdoor riverside cafes packed with festival-goers in the village of Guča © Aleksandar Donev / Lonely Planet I’ve been chasing Guča – and Boban Marković – ever since. The song, the DJ said, was a live recording from the Guča Trumpet Festival where, he assured me, I would eat more, drink more and listen to more horn music than I thought possible.

The instruments shrieked and leapt together, ratcheting the room to frenzied levels – an intoxicating jambalaya of Dixieland brass and the driving, all-night urgency of Roma-spawned backbeats. Then, in one ecstatic note, melody and rhythm met in a riot of hedonism in which sweat-soaked, ruffle-cuffed tuxedo shirts pressed against cocktail dresses. Tubas and bass drums began to bubble up in support. The room stopped as the first notes from his mournful trumpet warbled. Between soul and funk tracks, the DJ snuck in a number from Boban Marković, horn-player extraordinaire from Serbia. I first heard traditional Balkan truba (trumpet) music at a party years ago. Then band’s “Now, Then & Forever” will be released this month.Traditional brass bands parade through Guča during the 2017 Trumpet Festival © Aleksandar Donev / Lonely Planet *singer-songwriter Philip Bailey, 62, has been a member of Earth, Wind & Fire since 1971. Philip Bailey* (as told to Marc Myers for USA Today) When I sing high notes, I’m mimicking the feel of his trumpet. But even when I perform today, I never forget Davis on that song. I went another way because I needed to earn a good living to support my large family. It’s pretty odd that I didn’t become a jazz musician. When I listen to “Blue In Green” today on my headset, I still feel the same way I once did. Each musician solos but picks up on each other’s statements and develops them. They stay so connected - even with their different approaches. Then he narrows down the colour, as if dimming the lights.ĭavis and saxophonist John Coltrane evoke the blue - a more melancholy and experienced sound. To me, Evans’s piano is the green - evoking innocence with splashes of beautiful colour, like someone who’s chaste and a little uncertain. The song opens with pianist Bill Evans playing these beautiful, delicate chords before Davis comes in with his piercing, muted trumpet.

I loved the title of “Blue In Green” - as if the colour blue was seeping into green, slowly changing it and creating a new colour. Miles was on the outside, remote, not inside trying to trick the band into playing junk. I could feel that the musicians were saying something important - even before I knew they were jazz giants.

But in a scary way, I understood exactly what was going on. To my young ears, the music sounded sophisticated and unpredictable. It was like having a really cool babysitter. “Blue In Green” is a slow ballad and was warm and comforting to me. My favourite song was “Blue In Green” from Miles Davis’s 1959 album “Kind Of Blue” Her mother knew I was a different kind of kid and that I wouldn’t mess up her vinyl. While everyone was outside playing - including my friend, Phyllis Love - I’d be inside Phyllis’s house, alone, listening to music. When I was 9 years old, growing up in Denver in the 1960s, I’d spend hours listening to my friend’s mother’s record collection.

Old blue song trumpet knotes