You must stir it and stump it And blow your own trumpet Or trust me, you haven't a chance.

-- Ruddigore by Gilbert & Sullivan *** If these words, written long before Timothy Rhodes was even a gleam in his parents' eye, don't describe the young English trumpeter exactly, they do contain more than a grain of accuracy, for while he is anxious not to step on toes, and prefers to steer clear of the minefield of musical politics lurking in the land, he is nevertheless a "doer'' who likes to stir hearts, minds and concepts.

Born 25 years ago in Cambridge, England, Mr. Rhodes has accomplished a great deal since he began taking trumpet lessons at age eight.

Hailing from a musical family, he spent his formative years blowing into a recorder. When that palled at age seven ("too sissy''), his elder brother made him a guitar in woodwork class. In addition, the boys "got suited up'' on Sundays and sang in the local church choir.

Determined that their younger son should take up some musical instrument, the lad balked at the piano ("I had to learn it anyway'') and set his sights on "something loud''. Drums and trumpet would do nicely, he informed his parents.

Assured that there was "no way'' drums would ever rent the peaceful family air, Mr. Rhodes settled for the trumpet, little realising that the choice he made so casually at age eight would ultimately determine a career path that would take him far and wide, and produce some of the most terrifying and pleasurable experiences of his life.

Acknowledging a lifelong debt to his first teacher, Robin Kane, the brass teacher at Saltus Grammar School says: "I have so much to thank him for. I found the trumpet came naturally to me, and although I was a lazy student, I enjoyed it.'' It was as an older and wiser secondary school student, however, that young Mr.

Rhodes made the decision to follow his dream.

"I decided that I wanted to be a trumpet player, and nothing else was important to me -- except sport. I became very competitive, and wanted to win all the competitions. I remember thinking I was very important. Then I realised that if I wanted to be really good, I'd really have to work at it,'' he recalls.

And work he did -- so much so, in fact, that out of 500 who auditioned to enter England's celebrated Royal College of Music, he was one of the very few who succeeded.

"All of a sudden I went from being a big fish in a little pond to a minnow in a very big sea,'' he says of his early RCM days. "I knew I was fortunate, and that I had to work.'' Studying first with David Mason -- famous for his musicianship on the Beatles hit Penny Lane , although he played on all of the Beatles recordings -- Mr.

Rhodes then moved on to Malcolm Smith, principal trumpet of the Royal Opera House orchestra at Covent Garden, and finally to Mark Bennett (principal trumpet with the Kings Consort) to study baroque trumpet.

What started out as a professional relationship between another teacher, Mark Harrison, and his pupil eventually blossomed into a lasting friendship.

"He took me under his wing, and taught me about the politics in an orchestra -- when to keep your mouth shut,'' Mr. Rhodes remembers. "That was something which helped me to become a teacher as well. He was an incredible friend.'' At aged 22, Mr. Rhodes thought he knew it all, but Harrison knew better.

"He humbled me, but he also pushed me into areas that other people were dying to get into. He could quite easily have said, `You're on your own now, Tim.' Instead, he taught me everything from how to deal with people in stress situations, to coping with unemployment. I will always remember that.'' By the time he graduated from the Royal College of Music, his exceptional talent and hard work had earned him the Michael Manns prize for orchestral playing, and the Arthur Somerville prize for solo playing.

Stepping into the real world, as so many accomplished young graduates do, brimming with confidence and eagerly looking forward to earning a decent living at last, trumpeter Mr. Rhodes was soon to discover just how invaluable his mentor's advice had been.

"I spent two years as a freelance trumpet player, and it was a struggle -- really hard work. Often you'd sit by the phone hoping someone would call.

Sometimes you'd even pester the operator to see if the phone was okay. Very depressing. Then, a week later the phone wouldn't stop ringing, and you'd think, `Now everything's paying off,' and you would be working with some of the top professionals.'' Of all the phone calls he received, however, none would prove more exciting -- or terrifying -- than that of a Saturday lunchtime when he was relaxing with friends.

"Tim,'' the voice said, "we need a trumpet player this afternoon and evening to play for Les Miserables .'' As one of London's hottest shows, its orchestra was filled with musicians who had not only survived a very critical selection process but also had been playing the score for years. Even on such short notice, and without having ever seen the score, Mr. Rhodes would be expected to meet the standard.

Excited but apprehensive, he accepted.

"I sight read both performances, and it was the most terrifying experience I have ever had,'' he remembers.

But it would also develop Mr. Rhodes's philosophy on what considers to be the three key guidelines to approaching any performance: "Always box clever. That means when there is a really tricky part coming up, and you aren't sure about it, don't play it as loud as you possibly can -- guide your way through it.

"Fly by the seat of your pants. Since there's no place for trumpeters to hide in an orchestra (unlike string players), you just go on.'' "Accept your mistakes, and the fact that you are going to make them.'' "A lot of students get destroyed when they make a mistake, but I tell them, `Come on, you're human! A robot doesn't have feelings, or a love for music, and it can't express itself, which is the joy of live performances'.'' Which explains how, unlike many soloists, he is able to arrive on stage visibly buoyant and with a megawatt smile.

In any case, he dispels any backstage nervousness with a couple of deep breaths, and a mind set that, since the die is cast, there is no point in falling apart.

The successful technique is borrowed from one of his sporting passions -- rowing. Growing up in Cambridge, Mr. Rhodes experienced many an anxious moment at the start of an eights race, when the boats were lined up waiting for off, and he knew that what was expected of him was vital.

"The nerves that flowed through you then are the same as when you are waiting to perform, but I learned from rowing that you cannot allow yourself to fall apart,'' he explains.

Undoubtedly, freeing his mind from the pressures that plague so many performers, some of whom suffer terrible backstage nerves, is what contributes to the gloriousness of his music, and the obvious joy with which he performs it.

Interestingly, this que sera, sera approach puts him at odds with those who attend concerts expecting absolute perfection -- every note in its place, every nuance in the score delivered.

"I think perfection is putting everything into it -- every emotion,'' he says. "If you play with your heart and your head that's going to be the most exciting performance, but if you play a technically perfect piece, that's going to be a very boring, flat performance. There's too much pressure on all professional musicians to play everything perfectly.'' Certainly, those who heard his stunning performance of Haydn's Trumpet Concerto in E Flat in Marjorie Pettit's Heritage Concert left knowing that they had heard the best of his heart and head.

"I hadn't done a concerto for such a long time,'' he recalls. "It gave me a rush. I kept thinking to myself, `What's going to happen?' It was like going through a maze -- just fantastic.'' Like so many of today's accomplished young musicians -- Wayne Marshall and Nigel Kennedy among them -- Tim Rhodes is not one to hide behind a stuffy concert mien , despite the obligatory tuxedo. Rather, he likes to "make a connection'' with his audiences.

"To people who look at you and say, `Oh, he should have come on looking far more serious', my response is: `Relax, this is supposed to be fun'. People who do music purely for the money are in the wrong business.'' Small wonder then that, even before he has blown a note, his fans sometimes accord him the sort of welcome normally reserved for pop idols.

"It's nice to have that sort of reaction,'' he admits. "Applause is a compliment, and I don't think you should be embarrassed to accept compliments.

People compliment chefs and waiters, why not musicians? Besides, it's better than having rotten fruit thrown at you, which the rugby guys would love to throw at me!'' A positive thinker with an unquenchable zest for life, Mr. Rhodes has thrown himself wholeheartedly into a variety of extra-curricular activities since arriving here in September, 1977.

The Daylesford Sinfonia, of which he is principal trumpet, came into being partly as a result of his enthusiasm for enhancing the local music scene whilst avoiding the politics with which it is imbued.

Although the idea of forming a conductorless orchestra of purely professional-standard musicians was not new, it was Mr. Rhodes who said, "Let's do it'' over wine with colleagues.

Thanks to the collective efforts of himself and others, the new orchestra became reality, and has caused quite a stir since its debut at City Hall in May, 1998.The last concert, in particular, won rave reviews.

"I'm just so pleased it was a success,'' he says. "It was probably the most challenging thing that has been done classically on the Island. American music is incredibly hard because it is so rhythmic. Paul Hofstetter, the visiting conductor, worked us really hard, but he was fantastic, and had such energy with people.'' In fact, Mr. Rhodes confessed, he wouldn't mind being compared to Hofstetter at all,"as someone with incredible enthusiasm, energy, and ideas, and never afraid to try anything -- though the rugby boys would probably hate to hear me say that! I'm not good at rugby, you see, but it's such fun.'' Looking at the broader musical picture, Mr. Rhodes feels there is a need for a youth orchestra here, as well as a training orchestra, fronted by professionals, to benefit amateurs and people who play to a given standard.

"There needs to be this clear-cut division between the orchestras, and more of a structure in how they are going to rehearse,'' he feels.

Trumpeter Rhodes also has a love for sports He also believes that some day, instead of the present system of individual schools, all pursuing separate goals, through amalgamation Bermuda could have one central teaching academy -- The Bermuda College of Music.

"Why not?'' he reasons of the concept. "At the end of the day, it's very simple: music is a universal language.'' Originally brought to the Island by the Bermuda Academy of Music, where he still works part time, the brass teacher was "sub-let'' to Saltus on a part-time basis, but when he met his future wife, Tracee, and realised he wanted to make a longer, deeper commitment to the Island, the school offered him a full-time position, which happily included assisting with sports.

"I wanted to be part of a school where all the kids react to me, and as house leader for Saltus House I get a chance to know all the kids, as opposed to just the music students,'' he explains. "It's a great place to work because the kids are challenged, there are a lot of issues, and my colleagues are very supportive. Also, there's a lot of talent here. I've never known a school where so many students learn music.'' And it seems the students like him too. Among the gifts they have given him is a much-appreciate plaque which reads, `Due to the lack of trained trumpeters, the end of the world has been postponed indefinitely.' Meanwhile, in keeping with his "work hard, play hard'' philosophy, Mr. Rhodes is spending the summer co-ordinating the junior sailing programme at the Royal Hamilton Amateur Dinghy Club, as well as playing Commercial League tennis and cricket.

Come the winter, he will return to rugby, where he is known as Joey the Lip (from the film The Commitment ) thanks to his penchant for playing the trumpet on the touchline to razz following teams, as well as golf and soccer.

And what does his adored wife of one year think of all this extra-curricular activity? "Well, she married me knowing I was a very outgoing person, and I married her knowing she was a home person,'' he says. "We are best friends, and that's something that will always be with me. She is very patient.'' Which is just as well because, in addition to all of the above activities, Mr.

Rhodes jams for fun at Hubie's Bar, is the trumpeter in Tommy Ray's functions band, and plays in Tony Barry's jazz trio.

In October, he will have a starring role playing Blow, Gabriel Blow as a band member for the Gilbert & Sullivan production, Anything Goes.

If Tim Rhodes has been good for Bermuda, Bermuda has also been good for him.

In fact, he's mad about the place.

"The Island is incredible,'' he enthuses. "There is so much going on here, if you just open your eyes. Of all the places in the world I have visited, this is by far and away the nicest, and Bermudians are so friendly.''