Bobby Campo

There is an optimum point in every artist’s life where creativity and experience converge to herald an innovative musical period. Bobby Campo’s self titled CD represents the fruition of his lifelong passion for music combined with the eloquence on the trumpet that only maturity can bring.

"Music is a language," Campo explains. "You spend a long time in the early stages, just learning the words of a language. It takes a long time to learn a good vocabulary. After you get the vocabulary, having conversation with this language is still difficult. Whereas you can edit an e-mail, you can’t edit a conversation. It’s a special conversation when it is good and correct in all the technical aspects, as well as being interesting, informative and uplifting. Music is very much like that. You can’t send a musical e-mail. If you’re playing a solo, you have to have a great command of the language -- not only you, but the other guys you’re working with as well. When you get guys who know each other well -- musically and personally -- and you start having this conversation, the reward is unbelievable."

Born and bred in Louisiana, Campo offers musical communication at its best with cohorts he’s known for a lengthy period -- Lawrence Sieberth on piano, Bill Grimes on bass and Troy Davis on the drums. Together they offer a musical journey that includes six self written compositions like Campo’s funky radio friendly "In A Blues Funk," or the fluid ballad "For Donna," as well as executing renditions of such standards as "Autumn Leaves" and "Bye Bye Blackbird," displaying the variety which stems from Campo’s diverse background.

As a member of Capitol recording group LeRoux, Campo played rock music in the early 80s. When he left the group in 1985, he returned to school to complete his master’s degree in music, going from jazz afficionado to player.

"In Jazz, you take bigger chances, musically," he explains. "Anytime you get to the point of understanding in any language, you want to be challenged. After a while, you’re going to get tired of the Hardy Boys, although you might not be ready for William Buckley. It’s all a growth process. When we were kids, we loved rock-n-roll and it was a lot of fun, but after a while it becomes too simple. You want something more stimulating."

In January, 1989, Campo’s former teacher and mentor, Lee Fortier passed away and Campo was asked to take over his classes and finish out the school year at Baton Rouge High School.

"I dearly fell in love with the kids and the whole situation," he says. "I told the kids, ‘Look, this man was a musical father to me. I’m not here to take his place. You can forget about that. And if you think I’m going to do anything different than he would have, you can forget that, too. I’m not here to fill his shoes. I’m here to park mine next to his and we’ll go from there.’ And the kids said, ‘Let’s do what he would have wanted us to do.’

"I used to wonder how he had such an influence on people because he was just a trumpet player. It was because he taught us all how to love and get close to the music, how to be free with our emotions, get out there and take a risk."

In 1994, Campo accepted a full-time position at the high school. Regardless of the hours he puts in with the orchestra, the concert band, wind ensemble, jazz ensemble or any of his other duties as a teacher, Campo still finds the time to perform. He thrives on the diversity of his calls from featured soloists with the Baton Rouge Symphony Pops Orchestra to his work with musical theater, the Al Belletto Sextett and Gatemouth Brown.

"I have to play -- I don’t have a choice," he states. "It’s a need, like breathing is a need. It’s an addiction," says Campo, who looks forward to playing out with the Bobby Campo Quartet. "It does get me into trouble -- a lot of late nights and coming in to class the next day bleary eyed, sometimes taking off one or two days of school, which they don’t like unless you’re really sick. And I don’t blame them. But if I don’t get to do this, I’m going to get really sick. It’s preventative medicine.

"If I had to give up one or the other, I could give up teaching, but I wouldn’t want to. It’s another kind of reward. There were a lot of things I know -- sort of -- but once I had to explain them to somebody else, my depth of knowledge increased," he explains. "You have to be able to put into words things you just took for granted, and it makes you more aware, which makes you a better player."