Currently based in Los Angeles, California Daniel Gelman has experience playing in a wide variety of circumstances all around the world, as an orchestral player, and a chamber musician. He has toured Europe with the San Francisco Youth Symphony Orchestra, gigged with the Merced Symphony, and is on call for principal trumpet in the Opera Project Columbus. He has been invited to a few different festivals. This includes the Aspen Music Festival as a fellow, the Spoleto Festival USA in Charleston, and was recently on faculty at the American Institute of Musical Studies (AIMS) in Graz Austria. He is currently pursuing a DMA in Trumpet Performance at the University of Southern California. Daniel received his bachelor’s degree in Trumpet Performance from the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, and his master’s degree at the Cleveland Institute of Music. He has studied under notable Trumpet players, including but not limited to Michael Sachs, Mark Inouye, Adam Luftman, and Tom Hooten. In addition to playing the trumpet, Daniel is a hiking enthusiast and has enjoyed the challenge of backpacking in the Sierras, and summiting 14ers in Colorado.

In the Refuge of a Cave:
Before there were bunkers, fortresses, or strongholds, there were caves. Since long before the dawn of recorded history, caves have held a universal significance as a source of refuge—a safe haven from the elements, predators, and natural disasters. Inversely, however, caves have widely been known to inspire a sense of apprehension and foreboding as well—potentially harboring in the darkness the very dangers from which they are meant to offer protection.
Writing these program notes in late July of 2020, I can't help but compare the duality of caves to the tremendous changes that have taken place during the last six months. The Pandemic has forced just about everyone to reinvent their lives in order to preserve their safety and security. Whether metaphorically or analogously, we have all retreated to our caves in one way or another. For example, while many of us have achieved refuge through social distancing and sheltering-in-place, doing so has forced us to face the existential darkness of isolation and confinement.
In the Refuge of a Cave (2020) is my perspective on these themes as a composer and musician. What musical artists could once rely upon—concert spaces, audiences, even the ability to perform onstage together—has disappeared or drastically transformed in mere days. Now, one's own insights, abilities, and resources are the only certainties in their musical endeavors. When writing In the Refuge of a Cave, I imagined these restrictions as a literal cave surrounding the musical artist. What could a musician do to create music if they were isolated within a cave? How could one find artistic fulfillment in such a lonely and remote place? The only natural answer is that a musician would need to make do with the sonic resources and tools that the space granted them. The musician would utilize the reverberations and echoes generated by the cave's walls; in doing so, they would stumble upon a way to play music with another—a past version of theirself—an echo.
In the Refuge of a Cave is dedicated to my many friends and colleagues who have found themselves forced to navigate a unique cave of their own in these challenging times. Thus, it is designed to be playable by any instrument or voice type, and no two performances will ever sound alike.