http://www.trumpetherald.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=92628 (The Mysterious Nameless Hornist)

ADDENDUM: Thanks to my many friends who have pointed out that the “Mysterious Nameless Hornist” is the very famous horn virtuoso Frank Lloyd; not a surprise considering the level of virtuosity displayed on this web page.

Over the last years, since I started writing articles for TubaNews, Pipers Magazine and my own blogs, I’ve talked many times about the amazing growth of the tuba both in virtuosity and repertoire. A similar growth has taken place, with the leadership of Christen Limburg, with the trombone. However, the trumpet and horn community quite simply have not evolved in that same way. Why? Both trumpet and horn are blessed with abundant repertoire and a long tradition of style. This is especially true of horn; every tuba player has encountered a little jealousy over the extraordinary repertoire of the horn, which they frequently borrow and perform as their own solo repertoire. Tubists and trombonists in the mean time have spent the passed several decades expanding their technique to accommodate the challenges of the new repertoire.

On April 29, 2007 I wrote an Article titled “Exquisite” about a CD of the same name made by Hollywood studio trumpet player Malcolm McNab, which featured Mr. McNab in a stunning performance of the Concerto in D Major for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 35 by Tchaikovsky. Above and beyond the fact that this performance both technically and musically lives up to the name of the album, it raised the bar to a higher level, it presents a new level of playing that future generations will accept as normal.

Because of the extraordinary horn repertoire of truly great music, horn players, in their quests to master and preserve the tradition of this abundant repertoire, have not been motivated to move very far beyond their enviable comfort zone.

Perhaps this example of virtuoso horn playing that I encountered on U Tube yesterday http://www.trumpetherald.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=92628 is a significant step in rising that proverbial bar a few notches for the horn. It’s sensational, enjoy.

November 26, 2009, Tokyo

Vintage '38

Although the following is over five years old it still seems appropriate to today. It also serves as a good prelude for some of the more personal essays I intend to write in the near future. RB

Vintage ’38

Every country one encounters seems to be inordinately bureaucratic, especially to foreigners. Having been through the process of immigration in several countries I feel safe in saying that Switzerland may be the most bureaucratic. Foreigners muse over the possibility that this constant badgering of residents holding something other than Swiss passports is representative of a latent but chronic form of xenophobia. We all sense this, sometimes we speak about it but as far as I know we’ve never taken action. Perhaps it’s just not all that bad!

I had been living in Lausanne for five years before the foreign police and the Conservatoire de Lausanne discovered I had not reported my residence; they couldn’t believe it; I must have been the first to get away with such a thing. The school had to use their lawyer to rush through a “B permit” for me so both they and I would be legal. The Conservatoire informed me that I would be held responsible for both the legal fees and the fine. That’s the last I ever heard about it, perhaps the school paid it but if so it would have been quite out of character.

Now, six years later, I have been informed that I will be given a “C permit”, which is like having Swiss citizenship in every way but the vote; this is ironic because as of one year ago I was deemed to old to continue my work in Switzerland because I was 65. I feel sure this is another kind of bureaucratic oversight but in any case I will accept the “C permit”.

When I went to the direction of the Conservatoire de Lausanne and protested this compulsory retirement they went into shock, it seemed to me that I was the first person in Swiss history to complain! “Don’t you want to rest now, don’t you want to take walks by the lake?” My visceral reaction to those questions was to reach across the desk, grab the director by the collar and say "No, I'm not tired and I have better things to do than to take walks around your lake!" I didn’t, but I was having a new concept of what was meant by “small country!”

We did find a compromise, however, in that they agreed to let me continue teaching until all the students, who were all foreign (a problem for the school) and who had come there specifically to study with me, had graduated; this would fiscally take me to August 2005, I would be 67. Actually this situation couldn’t have come at a better time, my work in Manchester at the Royal Northern College of Music was increasing, they like me and they want me there full time for as long as I am able and they also want as many foreigners as possible; not to mention the fact that the RNCM is a vastly superior music school compared to Lausanne. In the school year 2004-2005 I will simultaneously be nearly full time at both Manchester and Lausanne and I look forward to organizing it.

Retirement remains unthinkable to me and other than the physical demands of being a tuba soloist, I have given little thought to the aging process. However, the foreign police have required me to get an up to date photograph for the C permit document, which I did. It was in one of those automatic photograph kiosks that are found in post offices and railroad stations; I adjusted the height, smiled and saw in the screen in front of me an older man, a little less hair nearly completely gray. I would guess from the picture that I was about 65, which is what I am!

Well, so what! I rarely see myself in the mirror, I shave in the shower, I brush my hair without my glasses and my barber seems quite amused when I ask him to turn the barber chair facing the small place (square) at the corner of rue de Petit Chene and rue de Midi, so I can watch the people instead of seeing my hair being cut.

Of course, this aging process doesn’t come as a great surprise, the statistic has always been clear to me but now that I’ve seen the C permit photo the statistic has become a little clearer. I noticed even a few years ago though, that when I would walk into a restaurant or a pub with a group of my students that the eyes of the younger women inside would go to the students, not me; I didn’t like that, I wasn’t used to it. Growth hormones, cosmetic surgery and hair dye are not my thing so I guess the only thing to do is get used to it; I’m still working on it!

Seeking a female companion at my age can be frustrating and no matter how much I try and comprehend the realities, I always seem to be most attracted to women in their late twenties ---- over and over again! And indeed I have several relationships with women in that age group, all paternal and avuncular. If I keep clear that’s what it is, these are valuable and wonderful friendships. I’m grateful my work brings me into constant contact with that age group!

Women in their thirties are equally attractive but they are just enough older to begin to fear the arrival of their own aging process and a deep friendship with a man my age scares them.

In the forties, if a woman is still single or has become single, she is often soured and embittered by something in her history and with the inevitability of her biological changes; a friendship is frequently volatile.

By fifty most women are set in their ways, they can be lovely companions but, frankly, they scare me!

I recently renewed an old friendship with a girlfriend from my conservatory days, who had just had her sixtieth birthday. She was equally successful as I and very opinionated; when I was asked a question, she would answer for me ---- always, and in public places she would apply new coats of lipstick every 10 minutes. I can’t attribute these things to her age, she’s the only woman in that age group I have had a friendship with, but let’s just say she seemed to have changed through the 40 years since I had seen her and the attraction was no longer there!

Quickly, I must point out that I’m quite aware the 40 years time has also changed me ---- a little!

I’m curious why 65 has come to signify the age of retirement, who determined 65 was the age to quit work, why and when? Was it religion? Maybe it was political or maybe it was so long ago that the cultures simply realized most people would be dead by that age so it was mostly a hypothetical number. And what of the economics, what of the baby boomers who are all very close to that mysterious age now and in a few years will become eligible for the social pension payments form already over stressed systems? It will be curious to see when this time arrives if suddenly the retirement age is changed. If so, what will the result be regarding unemployment. The bottom line is clear to me, this planet is over populated, and that problem needs to be alleviated.

But how? Perhaps it’s AIDS or something even worse will cut back world population the necessary 75% or 80% needed, maybe a real all out world war III would be a good thing, or perhaps cannibalism could be the answer; I know from my years in Italy how easy anything goes down with a little garlic and a little extra virgin olive oil. Or consider this; maybe the North American Indians were right; When a person has nothing more to offer, it’s time to take him or her to the top of a mountain, make a comfortable place, say goodbye and leave him or her there to catch the next spaceship to the happy hunting ground. Maybe they had it right hundreds of years ago. Anyway, something has to be done!

Personally, I hope I can continue teaching for the next 35 years, 100 seems like a rounder number than 65. Equally, I hope when I start to deteriorate I will recognize it or, if not, that some trusted friend would tell me.

I like very much the vintage wine analogy; no one knows the cellar life of a wine for sure, some reach maturity quickly and some become better and better.

In 1979 I gave a masterclass in Moudon, Switzerland. One of the students (now the tubist of l’Orchest de la Swiss Romand in Geneva) was from the very small town of Feshy. After the last day he invited all the class to his farm in the country; there were 12 or 15 of us. Tables were set up in the cross roads of the village. We ate and drank and it was clearly an exceptional evening. Soon we began to play tuba ensemble music in this isolated rural crossroads. Across the street was another party and the host of that party was also a musician. (Everyone in that part of Switzerland had some connection with the band community).

Soon the two parties converged and very soon the padrone of the party across the street invited us to visit his wine cellar. Shortly, it became clear that this gentleman, whom I was very sure he was about my age, was not only an inhabitant of Feshy but a principal wine merchant of the region, perhaps the principle wine merchant of the region and to this day I can’t remember whether he had twenty 40,000 liter casks of wine or forty 20,000 liter casks. In any case he had more wine than I had ever encountered, and he quickly began to encourage us to sample all of it! Soon he suggested, instead of the 1979 vintage, that we sample the 1978, and then the 77. It was an education and a religious experience. We were moving backward through time and I was amazed how different the wine was form year to year. We went through the 70’s, into the sixties when he began asking birth dates from my students. Upon hearing the birth years he would disappear for a short period and reappear with a bottle of vintage Fechy from that year. He went through the whole class and finally asked if there was anybody else and looked at me with a fraternal smile.

“Well, my birth date is 1938” I said.

“Oh, that’s my birth date too” he said.

He left for a long time and we all began to think the party had come to an end when he arrived back with a crusty old bottle with a big 38 rubber stamped on it like the rubber stamps we used in grammar school when I was a boy. He opened it, poured it and it was both a great wine and a religious experience. I hope to find him again someday and remember that evening together.

There was another time I tasted a vintage from 1938. For my 60th birthday present, my good friend and manager Emily Harris gave me a bottle of 1938 port. It was magnificent.

It’s difficult to realistically assess ones own aging process but I’m convinced vintage 38 was a great year.

Fiesole, Italy, March 2004

2010, a Year of Competitions

A long time ago, during my first year with the Rochester Philharmonic and my freshman year at the Eastman School of music, a poster appeared on the Eastman bulletin board announcing a trumpet competition in Geneva, Switzerland. How this ambitious young player wished there would be a tuba competition. One year later at the same time of year on the same bulletin board an announcement for an international horn competition in Geneva was posted, and the following year there arrived an announcement for a trombone competition, which, by now I had learned was the prestigious Geneva International Competition. The logic of what would appear the following year kept me excited, I waited the whole year and when I saw that same Geneva Competition poster on the bulletin board, I ran to see what the repertoire for the tuba competition would be; it was an announcement for another trumpet competition!

The explanation is easy; in most of the world the tuba wasn’t considered a solo instrument at that time. I’ve subsequently addressed the incredible growth of our instrument many times, now it’s time to address the present and the abundance of the copious competitions available for tuba.

Today we have the Markneukirchen, Germany Competition, the International Competition of the City of Porcia, Italy, the Geneva International Music Competition, the ITEC (International Tuba and Euphonium Congress) competition, the Brno (Check Republic) International Festival Competition, the Jeju (Korea) International Brass Competition and the Guebweller (France) International Competition, just to mention a few of the many competitions that are available today.

These and many others are serious competitions that offer substantial cash rewards but perhaps more importantly, they expose the winners to international acclaim that can give inertia to a very successful career. There was a period when some of the frequent competition winners, I.e., Carol Jantsch and Roland Szentpali, considered the several cash prizes they won as part of their principal income.

There is, however, much more to these competitions than just the prestige and the cash prizes. These competitions are actually a musical version of the Olympics, the greatest athletes, or in our case musicians and specifically tubists, meet and compete to see who is the best. Competition is a good thing; it gives us the motivation to be our best. Speaking personally, I cannot imagine what my level of accomplishment would have been without the more that fifty years influence of my deep friendship and competition with Tommy Johnson. We talked about it many times and agreed that our long association motivated us to reach far higher levels than we would have without the other’s influence.

Like Olympic competitions, these “Olympics for musicians” these “world championships” that are held throughout the globe, have a deep effect on the way in which we view the growth of our art. Like the Olympics, we begin to view ourselves from the specter of how we envision world-class excellence, and as simple as it sounds, we get better.

And like the Olympics, not everybody will take home a gold metal when the competitions are over, like the Olympics, some will go home disappointed. Everyone, however, will return home enriched and with a greater view of the real state of the art, our art.

2010 is an abundant year of many such competitions; they will be available to whoever is interested in Europe, North America and Asia as a participant or a listener.

Good luck and enjoy.

Tokyo, Japan, October 19, 2009

Is it a Woman's Brass World?

Women have been active in the brass instrument world since the time I first started playing (a long time ago). But the frequency that they appear today definitely shows an enormous increase. Two days ago it was my pleasure to listen to exactly 50 freshman brass students play their exams at the Musashino Academia Musicae in Tokyo. Very early in the day it became apparent that a huge majority of these students were women; in fact, it was exactly 75% women and it was true of all the instruments; trumpet, horn, trombone, basstrombone, euphonium and tuba, plus in one of these instrument groups it was abundantly clear that nine women of the twelve players were hugely superior to the three men. (Perhaps that’s another discussion.)

Why this huge shift in the man woman ratio? Here in Japan many believe that because of the intense competitive circumstances of music performance as a profession, men are simply more attracted to venture into different fields where employment offers much greater chances for a secure income. Women, however, at least Japanese women, seem to show contentment moving into music related fields such as teaching. Many fine Japanese women brass players are happily living in their home towns teaching children; this is a good thing, it starts young players out at a very high level and therefore influences the rapidly growing level of brass playing throughout the whole country, which is strikingly impressive.

It’s interesting to point out that a similar situation existed in the middle of the last century in the United States. Many men considered a career in one of the military bands as a poor alternative to successfully playing professionally as a civilian, now a position in one of these bands is considered prestigious and secure.

In that same period of the last century women brass players correctly saw themselves as a minority group and as a minority group many organizations began to appear with the intension of correcting the prejudice that clearly existed toward women. Many, most, symphony orchestras throughout the world simply didn’t allow women as well as the military bands and throughout general musical work place. Most notable among these organizations was the International Woman’s Brass Congress, which met once every year and impressively demonstrated that women were by no means less good brass players than men.

Similarly, many extremely good women’s brass groups began to immerge into the musical world and many of them, taking advantage of their femininity, cleverly and successfully marketed themselves; this is not a bad thing, as well as creating a market, they proved again that women are at least equal to men. Although today the situation for woman brass players has largely corrected itself the International Woman’s Brass Congress is still visible and active and enjoys a high level of respect from the entire world brass community.

But there is another aspect to this discourse; there are differences between women and men. That beast that we homo sapiens once were certainly still exists in our DNA and in our basic characters. The males of the species were the hunters and warriors while the females were the domestics, the bearers of children and the nurturers of the communities; those differences still live within us. Personally speaking, as a young player I could definitely feel a difference in the atmosphere when a woman or women began to appear in the brass section and for the most part it was a clearly positive difference, and that same difference is still evident for me when even one woman is in a class.

This difference is more difficult to explain. Music encompasses many polarities, aggressive and passive, happy and sad, visceral and intellectual, and of course, masculine and feminine; it seems to me those polarities are more easily realized when the collective music making is made up of both genders.

I consider myself a clear thinking modern man with no gender prejudices, our musical community is a better place when it is made up of both men and women, but as a small codetta to this article, I have to admit to one flaw in my social evolution; I found it very difficult to feel at ease when my orchestra had a female conductor. It was a new thing then, and I left orchestra life before it became popular; I’m sure, will, I hope, I would have adjusted. I am completely sure that the modern symphony musician will have to be comfortable with women conductors.

September 18, 2009, Tokyo, Japan.

A Photo of Vaughn Williams and Me

One of my most valued possessions was a photograph taken in 1954 of me and Dr. Ralph Vaughan Williams at a reception at the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA) after a lecture he had just given.

Moving to a new location is difficult whether it’s a mile away or 10,000 miles away and packing up all one’s belongings and determining where they should go is dramatic; which pile to throwaway, store, giveaway or take? Mistakes are always made. I left 13 boxes of stuff I couldn’t throw away in my sister’s garage in Los Angeles in 1989 when I left for Europe; after thirteen years she asked if I would please come and get them. I had a student that lived in LA pack them up in a crate, call the movers and send them to me in Lausanne, Switzerland where they sat, still unpacked for another five years. When my good friends Todd and Rose came to help me pack for the move to Japan, I was embarrassed when after opening the boxes that had been closed for 17 years, I felt I couldn’t part with their contents!

Not only were we packing for my move to Japan, we were looking through all my possessions in the world for my cherished photograph of Vaughan Williams and me.

I was fifteen and a half, I had read about the tuba concerto in Time magazine and had tried everything to get a copy of it. I even wrote a letter to the Library of Congress and received a letter that read something like this:

Dear Roger Bobo,

We have no record of a Concerto for Tuba by Ralph Vaughan Williams and you can be sure that if a composer of the stature of Ralph Vaughan Williams had written a tuba concerto we would know about it.

Good luck in your musical studies.

Library of Congress, Music Department

I heard about his lecture at UCLA, went to it and crashed the reception afterward to meet him. He was a very nice and kind man, he was also completely deaf; Beethoven could not have been deafer! During the lecture he would play musical examples and he had to have somebody tell him when the music had stopped; well almost completely deaf, as his wife, Ursula served as his ears. She was a wonderful woman with a piercing sonic laser beam voice that was able to penetrate his poor hearing.

I waited my turn in the reception line and when I introduced myself and spoke about the tuba concerto Ursula Vaughan Williams translated. “RALPH, THIS YOUNG MAN IS A TUBIST AND HE WOULD LIKE TO KNOW HOW TO GET A COPY OF THE CONCERTO”. Of course everyone in the room was looking by then. I was no longer the low profile boy who crashed the reception. Dr. Vaughan Williams put his arm around my shoulder and told me that the music was being edited at the time and as soon as it was finished he would have the Oxford University Press send me the first copy. While he was talking to me Mrs. Vaughan Williams took a picture of us. I gave them my address and went home and waited.

About a month later I received a copy of the photograph Ursula Vaughan Williams had taken and a note from her saying that they hadn’t forgotten about me and that they expected the edited version to be ready soon. I framed the photo, hung it in my room and waited for the music; it took more than half a year before it came. It arrived rolled up in a tube and when I opened it, “Sent At The Request of Dr. Vaughan Williams”, was printed on the cover. Within minutes after receiving the music it was on my stand and I was trying to play it. It was high! The fact is that I essentially learned how to play the tuba by that piece and little did I know that I would perform that concerto more that 70 times during my career. One of those performances was with the London Philharmonia in 1964 with Joseph Horowitz conducting, it was a good performance, the reviews were very good and best of all Ursula Vaughan Williams was at the performance; seeing her there was a wonderful moment.

Todd, Rose and I spent the better part of a week looking for that picture; while packing for the move to Japan we went through every page of every book, every piece of music and everything looking for it. I know I put it someplace special so that I would never lose it, but I don’t remember where. Or I gave it to someone to keep it for me but I don’t remember who. Very sadly, I think it’s gone forever, however, if ever it miraculously appears you can be sure it will become very visible very quickly.

Lausanne, December 4, 2005

Roger Bannister and the Four Minute Mile

Although this article was first published in June 1004 I feel it’s message is just as applicable to today. Enjoy

Roger

The following letter was received by email on June 27, 2004 in Tokyo, Japan.


Dear Mr. Bobo,

If you get this, this is the tuba player from North Carolina named Kory Faison. I'm just writing to tell you that my journey is about to begin. I told my brother that I was going to be the best tuba player in the world, hands down, but he doesn't believe me. I'll be auditioning for 5 music schools my senior year in high school, but I'm going to take the time now until then to find and perfect my solos. Have you ever heard of ''Dream of a Witches' Sabbath''? Well, if you choose to read this, I've finally proven that I'm one of the best here in North Carolina, but now it's time to prove it to the world. If you're still around in about 10 years, I will be the best tuba in the world, hopefully and I hope that you'll be proud to see that a small town boy has achieved the highest level of success. So, I hope we will meet, eventually.

Thoughtfully,

Kory Faison

Thank you for your letter Kory.

It's strange to have received your letter in my email inbox the very day I planned on starting this essay.

I sincerely hope that you will realize your tuba playing goals, that we will meet someday and that I will still be around. I remember very clearly a letter I wrote to William Bell a very long time ago, when I was in my early teens, which was much the same as your letter to me is today. But I wonder if you know who William Bell was? William Bell was the daddy, well, let's change that to granddaddy, or is it greatgranddaddy of all American tubists. You see, the generations of tubists are not the same as regular generations, by my observations through the 54 years of my tuba awareness; a tuba generation is about every ten years, and as each of these ten-year tuba generations passes into the next I am absolutely amazed at how the level of playing and musicianship improves.

About the same time that I wrote that letter to William Bell, it might have been 1950, I was quite interested in sports, particularly swimming as a competitor and track and field as a spectator; it was a great thrill for me to see world records fall and to see the track and swimming times getting faster and faster. One of my heroes in that period was the Australian mile runner Roger Bannister; he was the man whom the world thought would break the seemingly unachievable goal of the 'four-minute mile'. The world watched as Roger Bannister trained and prepared his strategy for his record breaking run; finely the news came that he had done it. It was a milestone (pun unintended) in track history. Today a four-minute mile is still a very good time but there are hundreds of college and even high school runners that can do it.

When I was a young man, the composer William Kraft, wrote a very fine and special piece for me called Encounters #2; it was considered extremely difficult at that time, and I had heard it said that I was the only person who could play it. If that was true it was only true for a short time; today you can frequently hear it played by high school and college players. I enjoy very much watching this happen.

But, Kory, I'm troubled by one thing; how far can it go? How fast will it be possible for a man to run a mile, will we ever see a limit? And in our tuba community will we continue to excel at the same unbelievable rate that we've seen so far? Of course, I want to believe we can but when we look at the evolution of more traditional instruments like the violin, for example, we don't see the continuing remarkable growth that is presently visible in the tuba. We see generation after generation of remarkable violinists, but we do not see the expansion of the technical capacities any more. Rather we see their ability to express their musicality, their musical soul, and their musical personality. Today, when we listen to the international competitions for tuba we begin to hear the same thing, the same growing ability to project a musical atmosphere. Everybody in these competitions has an extraordinary technique; it's the music they make that makes them winners!

Your goal to become the world's greatest tubist is a noble one, but there are a few things you should know as you begin this quest. First, please keep in mind that there are other young men and women your age that have the same goal. It's very much like the Olympics, not every athlete can win a gold medal. However, the performance of these athletes is enhanced by the energy they receive from their competitors; don't forget that.

There are three pieces of advice I would like to offer as you set off on this tuba quest:

        Become part of the extraordinary tuba community; read the magazines and books, join the associations, attend every masterclass and symposium that you can so that you will know what's happening in the tuba world, and listen; listen to every CD, recital and concert possible. Be aware of every aspect of this tuba world that you are entering.

        Remember that this tuba community is only a small part of the much bigger and richer musical community; look beyond the tuba, look far beyond the tuba world.

        And, be your own teacher. I'm sure you have a great teacher but he or she is your second most important teacher; you are number one! It is fun to think about the things you want in a teacher; let me start your list for you: Good musician, intelligence, kind, wise, patience, perseverance, and please don't forget a good sense of humor. Use the learning tools you have: metronome, tuner, and I hope you have and use a minidisk so you can play something and instantly hear it back. We hear things differently when we hear ourselves without the horn in our hands!


Just one more thing; the experience you'll have in pursuing your quest for the next ten years will probably be more important in your life than achieving your goal of becoming the greatest tubist. Enjoy this time.

So Kory, I wish you luck in this journey, and I look forward to that meeting in ten years.

I'll be around...

Tokyo, June 30, 2004

E Lesson Logistics

The organization of e lessons has turned out to be more difficult than I originally imagined; I have encountered misunderstandings regarding time zone differences, sound quality problems and a high percentages of cancelations, all seemingly for legitimate reasons. However, even with all these problems I believe the time for successful e lessons, music lessons, has come and that it will become a normal and workable medium. I would like to try once more to organize a schedule of these lessons.

For those interested I propose three steps:

1.        An interview between the prospective student and me via Skype, to get to know each other and evaluate our compatibility.

2.        A trial lesson to hear the potential student, and to find the optimum sound quality.

3.        And to create a meeting time for the first lesson.

My lesson fee here in Japan is $150 per lesson, I plan on initially charging $100 per e lesson, which would be paid through PayPal.

Anyone interested in setting up an interview please contact me a bomaestro@gmail.com
Please note the time differences and calculate a mutually convenient meeting time:
North America;
Eastern daylight time is 13 hours behind Japan time.
Central daylight 14 hours
Mountain daylight time 15 hours
Pacific daylight time 16 hours
Europe:
British daylight time 7 hours
Central European daylight time 6 hours
Ease European daylight time 5 hours

For other countries please calculate the time difference.

I look forward to hearing from you and setting up a time to talk.

Roger Bobo, Tokyo

Balancing Dynamic and Intensity

The Great Italian Maestro Carlo Maria Giulini used to tell the members of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra in his thick Italian accent: “My friends, please don’t confuse dynamic with intensity”; I’ve been thinking about those wise words for the last 30 years.

The dictionary defines intensity as a measurement of energy, but regarding music it needs to be a little more defined. Of course, just a measurement of energy would include the difference between loud and soft; certainly, dynamic is a measurement of energy, but for the purpose of this article I will refer to dynamic as the amplitude, the loud and soft of music, and intensity as the ratio of harmonics; that is tone quality.

The nature of sound as we play, speak, or sing, normally increases with intensity when the dynamic increases, and in piano it decreases. For example, compare the soft timbre of a sweet lullaby compared to the hard aggressive quality of a rock and roll singer. However, it doesn’t necessacerely have to be that way, there is much more to sound than just dynamic variety.

Luciano Pavarotti, for example, was able to sing very softly with great intensity, and a great actor can speak a text in a very soft voice, even a whisper but with frightening intensity; some of the most terrible villains in film and theater speak in a menacingly intense soft voice. Intensity can be the regulator of our musical quality; a pianissimo with no intensity is a weak, often unstable sound, which is nearly impossible to play with regarding intonation. And a fortissimo with too much intensity can simply be ugly.

In playing music we have both dynamics and intensity as our tools of expression, balancing the two leads toward a much richer sonic vocabulary; it’s important to use them both and not to confuse them.

Part of our job as brass players, as well as maintaining our techniques of fingers, breathing, articulation, and embouchure control, is to be aware of that chronic balance calibration between dynamic and energy and to make our personal decision for the correct mix for the correct occasion. But particularly, as lower brass players we need to formulate our opinion as to whether the bass notes, the tuba notes, those that are required in most of our playing, should simply be a big sound with wide amplitude to put a basic bottom on a brass section or to calculate an energy to that sound that is more homogeneous with the higher brasses. I won’t offer an opinion regarding this but I will only say that I have been fascinated by this question for my full playing career. We, with the help of the people we work with, have a choice. Certainly, the correct solution will very from person to person as well as through diverse styles and repertoire. Personally, I recommend keeping an open mind and continuing the search for that correct calibration, the correct mix; it’s more interesting than staying with the comfortable and predictable. Sound is part of our musicality and musicality is a growing aspect that needn’t ever stop evolving. Enjoy this search.

August 29, 2009, Tokyo

Lessons on Line

Its time has come, its emergence into the music education world is inevitable, we have both the audio and video technology to assure that it works. I have enjoyed exploring in this new teaching mode possibility and have been struck by how efficient it is and the possibilities it opens.

Setting up the camera and microphone is not difficult and in most cases the microphone in the computer seems functional enough. In fact, the only problem regarding both audio and video is having the highest quality Internet connection possible, which unfortunately, is not consistent from location to location or even day to day. Skype, which usually works very well in Japan, needs to also work well also at the location of the student. The only problem I’ve experienced is that sometimes there is a small amount of static, which is a Skype problem.

There is absolutely no question that this new mode of music education will become increasingly more available. Of course, it’s been available in general education for the last decade but the study of mathematics, medicine and economics rarely requires the high quality digital sound necessary in music.

There are other small problems to study. Of course, both the teacher and student need to have a copy of the printed music printed music; are there copyright laws to be concerned about in making the music available on line?

And how shall the method of payment work not to mention what the payment should be; should an e-lesson cost the same as a private lesson when the student comes to the teacher? --- Not serious problems but still decisions that need to be made.

I’m especially enjoying dreaming of the aspect of teaching on line frequently enough to make a livable income. It’s a nice dream because that would enable the teacher the possibility of living almost anywhere in the world of his choosing. Happily, if that possibility should present itself I think I would stay in Japan right where I am now.

If you would like to take a trial e-lesson please contact me. I expect to have everything worked out by September. In the meantime I plan to take a non-musical vacation exploring the beauties of this amazing country.

Tokyo, July 9, 2009

Cyber Life

I remember life before cell phones and the internet and as I recall things went pretty well without them, but now that the net is here, things go a lot better, are a lot more interesting and a lot more fun. It’s not just that I was never a very good speller, was mildly dyslexic and got painful writer’s cramps after holding a pin more than five minutes; I felt disadvantaged in the skills of communication. Now with my cell phone, SMS, Skype, Facebook and email I am happily and fluently in touch with friends and colleagues all over the world.

This instant communication is mostly a good thing; personally, I have developed valued friendships in China, Indonesia, North America, Finland, Switzerland, Romania and Germany. It’s easy, when we see that we are on line at the same time we can start a chat; chatting over a long period of time, whether it be via typing, voice or video, can lead to bounded friendships. Further, age difference or gender needn’t influence the friendship, the net is safe, and one cannot catch a disease or need be aware of social stigma.

Friendship, however, whether cyber or one to one, can sometimes be annoying. I have several friends who have not communicated directly with me for well over a year even though I hear from them frequently; they “share” with me their favorite cartoons, or something they read recently. I appreciate their intent, they want to share something that was meaningful to them, I suppose that is a compliment in a way, but after months or even years of only secondhand information from these friends, I find myself longing to hear from them directly, their thoughts in their words.

As I think of those who so rarely communicate to me in their own words it seems to be mostly the older friends, the younger ones seem to have no problem to share there thoughts directly; that’s sad. Logically, one would think the older people with their accrued wealth of experiences would have more to say, more wisdom to share. Perhaps it’s that in their successful lives they have less time to contemplate their unique, personal views on life; if so, that’s even sadder.

What is the value of an accrued wealth of wisdom if it is not shared? Is it possible this may be partially the reason that teachers are asked to retire at the age of 65 in much of the world, logically, wouldn’t the wealth of wisdom be richer in people who have experienced more of life?

Dear Friends,

I thank you for all the articles, essays and opinions you have passed on to me in the last years via the internet, I value their content (most of the time), but I would value far more hearing your thoughts in your words. I am interested in your point of view.

Hoping to hear from you soon.

Ciao,

Roger

Tokyo, June 22, 2009

Rubato vs Rigid

Rhythm can be viewed as the friendly structure of a comfortable environment or the rigid bars of incarceration; I prefer the comfortable environment.
What are the qualities that make music personal? Probably everybody would agree that it is our individual mix of tone quality, dynamics, manner of articulation, vibrato and our personal treatment of rhythm. Initially, these are skills that are learned when we begin to study a particular instrument; they begin as any new skill, awkward and uncontrolled but in time, after study, they become dependable and stable musical skills. The individual mixture of these qualities is as unique to our to our musical voice as our fingerprint or DNA.

As these basic musical skills formulate we’re faced with an infinite number of decisions that will make our playing musical and personal, among these is the modification, manipulation and personal touches we apply to rhythm; this is called rubato, when, where and how much of it to use differs in all musicians, that is the magic of music.

Many believe that rubato along with dynamics are the key to musical expression, I among them, but an experience 50 years ago in the late 1960s slightly modified that view. An exciting new recording came out called “Switched on Bach”; it was the music of Bach programmed on Synthesizer. As well as being an impressive eye-opener to an exciting new instrument, it demonstrated the musical energy of absolutely perfect rhythm. It was also an amazing eye-opener regarding articulation in the bass and contrabass registers and put into abundantly clear perspective that focused articulation was a strategic part of clear rhythm and that articulation was in fact the fine-tuning of rhythm.

Normally rubato is a slight relaxation of strict rhythm and the stressing of certain notes, usually coordinated with dynamics and/or harmonic progression; its use and how much rhythmic liberties one takes is very personal. Frequently today, we see both conductors and instrumentalists, drastically distorting the rhythm while desperately trying to impose some personal musical signature into standard repertoire. Imagine a young conductor trying to convert Beethoven’s Symphony #5 into something that is uniquely his or an instrumentalist playing a standard concerto in some new and untried way, maybe it’s wonderful, frequently it’s distorted and maudlin. However, even when the piece is hardly recognizable there are merits; it exemplifies for us the limits and prevents us from making the same kind of dubious decisions. It should also be mentioned that, like vibrato being used to cover up an unstable tone, Rubato is sometimes used to mask unstable rhythm.

Quickly, it should be said that there is no right or wrong here, it is personal and as time passes we all change in our musical tastes, I only point out that perhaps striving to be unique is not as important as holding to some degree to the integrity of the composer. If the music is good our use of the personal aspects of musicianship i.e. dynamic, vibrato and rubato, in other words our musicality, will lead us in the right way and it will be absolutely unique. Perhaps when we simply let it happen rather than impose an aggressive individuality, we will achieve a more beautiful result.

June 10, 2009, Le Domaine Forget, Quebec Canada

Enlightenment in BBb

I was fifteen; it would have been 1953, when I made the change from BBb to CC tuba. It seemed like I had been liberated, the response was quicker, the tone was clearer, the low register was actually better and, of course, the high register was much easier; it was simply more fun to play and I never looked back. Around the same time my good friend Tommy Johnson made the same change. We would talk to each other about our fantastic discovery and how we felt sorry for those players that were still struggling with the encumberments of BBbs. During the next years we watched as most tubists made similar changes and little by little CC tubas became the contrabasstubas of choice by most tubists in the United States.

It was in the 60s and 70s that several America tubists with CC tubas started winning positions in European orchestras and many more were pursuing positions in Europe. Very quickly the tuba communities in Austria and Germany began requiring tubists to play BBb tubas for all auditions. Of course, deductive reasoning led one to the conclusion that the German school tubists were using this requirement to assure that only German school tubists would win the jobs. Certainly to some degree that was true but there was more to it than just that.

I have been in many situations through the last five decades when I’ve had the opportunity to listen and compare the sounds of the CC and BBb tubas and in every occasion I have favored the CC but in light of an experience I had recently in Detmold, Germany, while giving a masterclass at the Conservatory, I have to face that I may have maintained that same kind of prejudice and dogma on behalf of CC tubas that I have accused the Germans of having for BBbs.

In an ensemble masterclass my colleague professors and I heard a five trombone and tuba ensemble playing an arrangement of a Bruckner piece. The Meinl Weston 195 Fafner 4/4 BBb tuba that was used was strikingly rich, clear, gloriously beautiful and exactly the right instrument for that music; it was instantly obvious that there was a valid use for a BBb tuba that I had not seen before, further it was clear if I still had a few years of symphony orchestra work ahead of me I would feel a strong need to have such a tuba. My colleague Anne Jelle Visser, a CC tuba oriented player with the Zurich Opera and who shared this enlightening experience with me has subsequently ordered two of these tubas, one for the Zurich Conservatory and one for the Zurich Opera Orchestra. If I played in a symphony orchestra I would probably not use it more that 5% of the time but those times when I needed it I would have to have it.

There is another issue of hard realism here: If we tubists want to be like our trumpet playing colleagues and own several instruments in all keys and sizes for all occasions, we would either have to be rich or have generous benefactors, such as orchestras or conservatories to possess all these instruments. Economics is a factor in all our lives but as artists it should not let that limit our thinking and our vision.

However, I try to imagine the reaction of a symphony tour manager while being informed that for the next tour we will need to carry four of five instruments or filling my personal vehicle with all the instruments I might need for a studio job! Sometimes it’s tough to be a tubist.

Tokyo, May 6, 2009

Remembering Nancy Walker

It was 65 years ago, we had finished our first year in kindergarten and were starting our new school year in the 1st grade, it was 1944, and we were 6. I think about her at least once a year, usually in those momentary thresholds between being asleep and awake, those times when it’s difficult to discriminate between thought and dream.

Nancy Walker and I were not particularly good friends nor were we adversaries. We were seated together in the classroom and for two years shared one of those two child tables with a small shelf under the surface where we could store papers, artwork, pencils, crayons and other small things.

She was taller than the other girls, blond and always had what I remember as a shy quiet smile. She was smart, talented, uncomplicated and in retrospect seemed to be totally trusting. Life was easy for her. Her work was ahead of mine in every respect, spelling, writing, art, arithmetic, she was better at everything, even music; sometimes she would help me with my work.

I think this may have been the first time in my life I had experienced envy, I wished I could have her same ease of dealing with the simple complex of 1st grade encounters; for me everything was hard. And I especially envied the fact that she showed, and I’m sure felt, no sense of superiority; she was just good! I was aware I couldn’t be as good, as nice and as friendly as her and that troubled me.

We stayed seated together well into the 2nd grade. Then something happened, I think I had done something, I can’t remember what, and we were separated. Nancy never wanted to talk to me anymore. I was sad but tried to laugh about it every time I saw her. For the next years, through elementary, junior high school, and high school she remained distant. I will never remember what I did but I wish I hadn’t done it.

I dreamed about Nancy last night. It was a good dream; she was old but still had that shy quiet smile. I tried to explain to her that I was sorry for whatever I had done to cause her to distance herself. She seemed moved and touched my hand and said she couldn’t remember what I had done either but she forgave me. I think she was a wonderful person I wish we could have been good friends.

I resisted waking up for as long as I could this morning.

After searches I have sadly discovered many of my class, the 1938 vintage, have already deceased.

I hope you are well Nancy.

Okayama, Japan, April 19, 2009

Hormones and Cherry Blossoms

The March masterclass tour is finished, the remarkably high level of the students I encountered at all the venues, Lahti Finland, Bolzano Italy, Amsterdam, Detmold Germany, and Zurich were inspirational and I’m going home fresh and invigorated. Now in Lausanne, Switzerland I happily start my countdown for a new school year at the Musashino Academy of Music in Tokyo and the Tokyo spring, a stimulating pink world of hormones and cherry blossoms.


Spring is a formidable time everywhere in the world and its effect on us is perhaps more powerful than most of us realize. We are, whether we like to admit it or not, just one of many beasts on this planet and spring is the time that most species move to continue their life cycles of our species too; it’s the rites of spring for the birds, bees, flowers and trees and even with the politics, economics, technologies and intellectual pursuits; we are still only just another of the many animals on this planet and we are certainly profoundly effected by springs power.


I will get home just in time for a hanami, (viewing of the cherry blossoms). I’ll go with friends and enjoy the sakura (cherry blossoms), enjoy watching the people and I will be aware that hanami is a much larger thing than just a beautiful Japanese tradition. The flowers will be beautiful and the Japanese girls will be beautiful, but it’s also part of the nature of spring, it’s part of the rites of spring. Japan is an amazing place to enjoy this human condition. We are lucky to be able to view the spring both from the standpoint of our basic viscerality and from our more sophisticated human culture.


Wherever you are, however you celebrate your hanami, your rites of spring, I hope you enjoy it; it’s a good life.


Lausanne, Switzerland, April 5, 2009

Happily Humbled--Again and Again

Leonardo Da Vinci said, “It is the duty of the student to surpass his teacher”. Da Vinci was very right, I would add that the greatest pleasure a teacher can have is to experience his students realizing that duty. I’ve seen increasingly more students reach that level recently; it’s a wonderful feeling.

This Da Vinci quote was really not new a new concept to me. In the years between 1956 and 1960 while attending the Eastman School of Music I was boasting once to my old teacher in Los Angeles, Robert Marsteller, that I had a fellow student, a trombonist, in Eastman who was reputed to be a better student than the famous Gordon Pulis, the first trombonist of the New York Philharmonic, was in the 1940s. Mr. Marsteller broke into laughter and said “God help the student who isn’t better than Gordon Pulis was when he was a student”. Robert Marsteller was a man of vision.

I’ve always been quite aware that there were two levels of tuba playing in my life, the one that existed in my mind and the one in my hands, which, with the physical encumberments of breathing, embouchure, tonguing and fingering, regardless of how much I worked, never reached the level of that tuba in my mind. It’s interesting that after I played my last concert in 2001, that tuba perceived in my mind continued to develop quicker and better without those physical encumberments of actually playing.

There was, however, something else happening in the tuba world that was broadening my tuba vision. A new generation of tubists was emerging that was abundantly realizing the words of Da Vinci. Through the last decade I have seen increasingly numerous students ‘surpassing their teachers’ and from my personal vista I have heard students in Asia, North America and Europe even surpassing that perceived tuba that existed only in my musical mind, in fact, much of my lately acquired tuba awareness has come from those students.

Our world of Tubadom is a superb microcosm of the changing world we live in. The growth, the awareness and the excellence seen in our art is truly amazing, but although nothing like it has ever happened before in music history, it’s just an example of what we see in our daily lives. Computer science, cell phones and automobiles are other examples of improvements coming so fast it’s nearly impossible for us to keep up.

There is a vast difference, however, between the progress in technologies and that of our small, isolated and idealistic world of the tuba. The world today needs better computers, better cell phones, and more efficient cars, and we could never go back in time even a few years. But there is another powerful motivation regarding computers, cell phones, cars and the other vast growing necessary products appearing in our world; the better these products become the more money there is to be made.

The development of the tuba is quite different and inspired by a different kind of energy. Our level of performance, the vision of what can be, the teaching, the institutions that promote our instruments and its performance are all primarily inspired by the fact that we love music and we love this instrument. The instrument manufactures are, of course, happy with our idealism and happy to provide us with the equipment we require; we are lucky to have them and our idealism means profit for them.

It’s dangerous to take too much time reflecting on our accomplishments of the past. Even so, it’s quite appropriate to reflect, a little retrospect is good; it can show us a clearer direction to continue this historical success.

Amsterdam, March 25, 2009

Domaine Forget

It’s a habit now, a very good habit. It started in 1954 when I was 15 years old and got on a train in Los Angeles, destination the National Music Camp, Interlochen, Michigan; I returned there for the next three years. Almost every year since that time I’ve been involved in some music camp or some masterclass stage somewhere in the world; the venue changed but the habit remained.

Many of these courses occurred for several years and the attachments grew strong, it was always a little sad when circumstances, usually economics, caused these courses to end. There was the special course in Villa Nova De Castillion near Valencia, Spain, the band camp in Kalavrita, Greece, Musica Riva in Riva del Garda, Italy and the Yamaha Band Camp in Hamamatsu, Japan, all very special occasions, which offered the special atmospheres of the unique localities, renewing old and creating new friendships and most importantly high level learning experiences.

Of all these excellent summer courses there is one that stands out in my mind as being by far the best, that is Domaine Forget Académie de Musique et Dance in Quebec, Canada. Domaine Forget is located among the rolling hills of Saint-Irénée 90 minutes northeast of Québec City on a vast historical property overlooking the St. Lawrence River, an unparalleled setting providing visitors with a cultural experience unmatched anywhere in North America. Le Domaine Forget attracts mostly North American students but every year there are a few students that come from Europe and Asia.

The combination of fine students, very high-level internationally renowned teachers, a highly efficient and low profile administration, an unbelievably beautiful location, and at least of equal importance, it’s fun, it’s big fun. The brass classes this year are from June 1 to 13, however, if circumstances make two weeks impossible, it is possible to come for only one week.
I have aggressively avoided posting anything that may appear like an advertisement either on my blog or rogerbobo.com so please view this as an invitation, an invitation to a very special two weeks (or one), learning guaranteed, fun guaranteed; you will be very welcome.

For more information go to the Domaine Forget web page.

Riva del Guarda, Italy, March 16, 2009

"Die Tuba ist Keine Solo Instrument"

“The Tuba is Not a Solo Instrument”

Sometimes I regret that frequently in my life I have missed wonderful opportunities to keep my mouth shut! My mother used to tell me: “Roger, You don’t have to say everything you think”; I’m still working on that! There is, however, one vivid moment in my history when I did keep my mouth shut and I’ve been frustrated about it ever since!

It was the 1976 First International Brass Symposium in Montreux, Switzerland, an amazing event that was organized by Harvey Phillips, which brought together most of the major brass players in the world for one extraordinarily enlightening week. Anyone who has ever been involved in the organization of any International, national or regional symposium knows what a formidable task that can be and can understand what Harvey Phillips did in 1976 was absolutely amazing.

It wasn’t only the logistical challenges of getting the world’s great brass players of all instruments together in the same place at the same time, Harvey’s task was exacerbated by the fact that 1976 was a time of far less international consciousness in brass performance then now. Many of the participants in that symposium who were considered the best in their separate nationalities and comfortably isolated musical environments, I fear naively considered themselves simply the best, not just at home.

On the first night of the symposium I was a part of the opening night recital, a very long concert (many hours), it was one of those marathon concerts we encounter sometimes at symposia with a huge number of soloists. I played the Kraft Encounters ll and as I recall it was not a particularly good performance but most of the people that night had never heard anything like that before (the Kraft Encounters ll is a virtuoso unaccompanied piece with multiphonics and other new techniques) and I suspect many of them had never even heard a tuba as a solo instrument before; it caused a lot of attention.

The next morning was met by many of the symposium participants with greetings, handshakes and congratulations. Finally one rather pompous and arrogant looking man came to me, smiled, put his nose in the air, said “Good Morning” and quickly turned and walked away; it was a small unpleasant and insignificant moment in an otherwise very enjoyable week.

Later I learned this man was the passed tubist in what many people considered, and still consider, the greatest orchestra in the world, and he was reputed at the time of being the premium tuba professor in Europe. Because of that reputation I went to his masterclass later in the day to see what I could learn. I sat in the back row and waited until he finally made his entrance, which had more the atmosphere of a presidential press conference than a tuba masterclass. As he entered, the class led by his student disciples, stood and one of them dutifully lifted the distinguished maesrto’s overcoat from his shoulders, he asked the class to please be seated and we waited in anticipation.

When he finally spoke these were his words: “Good Morning, before we begin the occasion of this masterclass there is one basic thing we must all understand, ‘Die tuba ist keine solo instrument’ (the tuba is not a solo instrument), when we all can agree that the tuba is not a solo instrument we will begin”. I didn’t want to be responsible for holding up the class so I quietly got up and left the room, I was glad I was seated in the back row.

A few years later I went into an attractive little music shop in Salzburg, Austria and asked the very nice old lady, who appeared to be the owner of the shop, if they had any music for tuba and it happened again; “Die tuba ist keine solo instrument, we only have music for solo instruments here”, at which time she opened a drawer of flute music and explained to me that the flute was a solo instrument and the tuba was not. Well, she was a very sweet old lady; I thanked her and quietly left the shop.

The old adage that success is the best revenge seems to be the appropriate philosophy to remember these events but the stories point out in a special way to those who have enjoyed watching the evolution of the tuba through most of the last century, that happily things have changed! It’s moments like this, while writing this article, I think about the women of Afghanistan and the suppression of their equal rights. We can be very proud and satisfied how the tuba has evolved to the status it enjoys today.

Lahti, Finland, March 7, 2009

Specters Reunion

It seems my most successful essays for TubaNews are the ones that have dealt more with specific aspects of our instrumental function rather than broader thoughts regarding the world of music. I hope I can write about both. For issue 3 of TubaNews I wrote an essay, Specters, about some of the interesting people, those who would follow the various orchestras that I had played in through the years in our rehearsals and concerts.

Sadly, the stories of an old man who played in the Moscow Youth Orchestra when Tchaikovsky would bring by a new score by to hear the orchestration or another old man in another part of the world had a big part of his life rewriting symphony scores with all the inaudible orchestration deleted, do not hold the same interest as rotary vs. piston valves or "Is Bigger Better?" To me that's sad.

In any case, I saw these specters again a few days ago.

My daughter Melody was visiting for the last two weeks and as a finale for the visit I arranged that we would spend three days in Kyoto at a ryokan, a traditional Japanese inn. Ryokans are famous for being havens of rest and tranquility and this one in Kyoto was no exception; entering one could feel ones pulse slowing, a wonderful nights sleep was guaranteed. That first night in the ryokan was one of the best nights sleep I've had in a long time.

Suddenly the fragrance of eucalyptus filled the air and the sunlight was fragmented as it shined through the high branches of the many trees. The old dirt road that was the driveway was just as it always had been. I was surprised not to be surprised being there, it seemed perfectly natural, nor was I surprised to be standing with the specters that I had been seeing at orchestra rehearsals and concerts for the last 48 years.

The two old men were there, the one from the Moscow Youth Orchestra and the deleter of orchestration; they stood next to each other looking similar and yet very different. The beautiful young girl dressed in white holding the red rose stood a little apart from the old men and the elegant old woman dressed in high fashion of Europe in the 1920s stood far apart from the other three at the end of the driveway where it met the road. She was just as always, standing very properly and smiling at the strange group of people standing on the driveway. I had no idea who this old woman was but she had the look of how I imagined Clara Schumann or Alma Mahler might appear. She was truly a specter.

"It's amazing to see you here," addressing the two old men first. "I only got to talk to you once and shortly after that you both disappeared. I wanted to talk again to both of you but never got the chance. I knew you in Rochester and I knew you in Los Angeles, do you know each other?"

The man from the Moscow Youth Orchestra answered first. "We know each other now."

"I remember so well your story about Tchaikovsky conducting his 5th Symphony to hear the orchestration; I wanted to hear more stories but never had the chance. Did other famous composers conduct your orchestra?"

"Oh yes, Rimsky-Korsakov used to come, sometimes we would play some of his works but many times he would come and play some of the works of Mussorgsky, he was always editing and reorchestrating Mussorgsky's works, the last time he came we played Night on Bald Mountain.

Talking to both men, I said, "It's really strange that one of you had such personal experience with the orchestrations of some of the worlds great composers and the other spent a big part of your life deleting orchestration and rewriting scores of great composers without the inaudible orchestration. What ever became of that project?"

He answered, "I put all the work in the attic of my sisters house in Rochester, I took the last stack of work there just a few weeks before I left your world."

"Do you know where the work is now?" I asked.

"It was a long time ago, all I can tell you is that it was the green house on Kansas St. in Rochester."

"How many people knew about the work you were doing?"

"I don't think anybody, my sister knew I was doing something with music but she never understood what it was."

The other man interupted, "when I was a young man in Moscow my big fascination was the orchestration so I think you can understand how very strange it sounds to me that someone would spend a large part of their life simplifying the orchestration of the worlds masterworks. What started you on such an odd project?"

The deleter answered, "I was never a good musician, I played piano as a boy but I have been a concert goer all my life, after hearing many of the great works many times it seemed just a natural thing to ask about the necessity of all this inaudible orchestration. I'm not even sure I believe in it but it was a study that I dedicated my life to."

"As a study I can see a little interest but I believe I can predict almost exactly what my conclusion would be if it were possible to hear your modified scores. When you see someone sleeping how do you know whether he is sleeping or dead?

"You can see and hear them breathing"

"Yes, and that's what orchestration is, it's the life of the music, the breath of the music."

After a short pause, I thought to myself, "I would like to find that green house on Kansas St. in Rochester and spend a day listening to those scores, we would learn a lot."

As the two men continued their conversation on orchestration I turned my attention to the girl in white holding the red rose. "I know you, we knew each other in Los Angeles; I suddenly remember your name, your name is Phyllis, you worked in the administration of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. I remember that you were sweet and you were wise."

"I'm not really Phyllis, I only look like Phyllis, you chose that I would look like her."

"But who are you then?"

"You know me, you have seen me many times but I've looked very different every time I came to visit you."

"But who are you?"

"I'm really a teacher, you could call me a guide and you should just think of me as a friend"

"Have you come to teach me?"

"Not this time, this is just a visit to say hello and to talk."

"Somehow you make me feel special, but why have you come here and where are you when you are not here."

She was laughing and clearly enjoying this conversation. "Ha-ha, I have many people I like to visit, they are all different and all interesting. Some are curious like you and some are very frightened, but they all can learn."

"What is it that you teach?"

Still amused, "I never know what I will teach or even if I will teach, a better question would be what do you want to learn."

"There are only two questions I have right now. Who are the old man and woman who live in that house down these stairs. It seems I've known them for a long time and what is that strange language they speak, I've never understood it and I couldn't learn it"

"They were just caretakers, they were the caretakers of that house and they were your caretakers. Many times, but not always, the caretakers speak a strange language and when that's the case those who they are caring for develop extraordinary skills at communication."

"Can you tell me who the old woman is who is standing at the end of the driveway, I've seen her so many times all over the world, always listening and moving with symphony music. Who is she?"

"She is always around symphonic music but most of the time you can't see her, you are very lucky. We're going to go now, enjoy the rest of your vacation. Goodbye."

Before I could say goodbye the eucalyptus aroma blended into the wonderful smell of steam and cedar from the tub in the ryokan and the first sight was the small Japanese garden just out the sliding door. It was a wonderful nights sleep, Kyoto and ryokans are very special.

Kyoto, Japan, January 19, 2006

Time and Perception

Once, a long time ago (maybe it was 1946) a new 1st trombone player joined an orchestra far away; he was by far the best brass player in the orchestra, the other players in the orchestra were what we call now “old school”, and it clearly stayed “old school” for many years after the new 1st trombonist arrived; the horns were primitive, the trumpets were symphonicly ignorant and the trombones and tuba were pretty much the same. They did the thing all untrained brass players do; they played late. The new trombone player was the only one who made an effort to be on time. Of course, in comparison with the other brass he was always early. As time passed and more experienced players began to join the orchestra slowly the brass section started to play on time, all except the 1st trombone player (who wasn’t new anymore); he had been ahead of the section for so many years that when things finally got corrected it didn’t seem right to him, his perception of what was correct was simply ahead of the rest of the section. Therefore he continued to play ahead all the way to the day he retired.

During these years of adjustment a new and younger 1st trombonist came into the orchestra, he was intelligent, a wonderful musician, and a student of the older 1st trombonist. He immediately realized that his teacher was always early and found himself becoming very frustrated. Sharing that common quality that all great brass players seem to have; stubbornness, the new trombonist soon developed the habit of always being behind his teacher, because he knew if he was with him he would be early. 25 years after the older trombonist passed away, his replacement was still playing late and thinking he was right, he had been playing late to his teacher for so many years that not being behind felt wrong. Finally, when the new trombonist reached retirement the problem seemed to resolve… It took 50 years to correct the time perception problem in the section!

And in another place long ago and far away there was a remarkable young trombonist and composer, it was in the early 70s. He was so far ahead of the rest of us that he captured our imaginations, our vision and pointed out to us a new direction. He knew that he was in new territory and that he was opening minds; he liked his role in the avant guard as the enfant terrible, he liked blowing minds and creating new sounds. Today he is a brilliant, perhaps genius composer and he is charismatic but his avant guard school has become an old-fashioned school, and he’s still fighting the same old fight. Now frustrated because he is loosing the fight, he finds that most people think his music is ugly and vulgar. While he was stuck being the outrageous enfant terrible, the rest of the world has passed him by and left him behind, yet his perception of himself in the musical world has not changed with the times.

Here’s the artistic danger sequence: Motivation, perception, growth, dogma, then stagnation. It didn’t happen to Stravinsky, he grew until he died. It hasn’t happened to Boulez or Rostroprovitch. I’m afraid of it, if it happens to me I know it’s time to stop.

When the pensioners sit on a bench and stare at the sea, what do they think about?

November 15, 2004, on the train from Tokyo to Hiroshima.

Specters

In the places and in the ensembles where I’ve lived and played, there seemed to always be a number of followers, people that were just there, day to day and year to year. It didn’t seem to be important where or what the ensemble was; it was almost as though it was the same people, whether it was Rochester in the 50s, Amsterdam in the 60s, Los Angeles in the late 60s, 70s and 80s or Florence in the 90’s. They sat in the hall and listened to the rehearsals, usually in the same seat, and usually they wore the same clothes. There was the elegant old woman who would move to the music, whatever it was she was listening to, as though she had conducted it numerous times. There was the old man with an intense, brooding, Beethovenesque expression on his face, looking always very critical, and there was the attractive young girl holding a single rose with a look and demeanor from generations passed.
Generally, there was very little communication between these groupie specters and the musicians in the orchestra. When the rehearsal was over these followers and the orchestra musicians found there own exits into their own worlds, and most of the time we never saw these people other than from our seat in the orchestra.

In my years with the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra between the 56/57 season and the 61/62 seasons, there was such a man. Although totally benign, he had that look of intensity and concentration, like the busts of a brooding Beethoven that I’ve seen in concert halls where I’ve played all over the world. He was present at most of the rehearsals during those 6 years I played in Rochester, and as he listened he was always writing; he had a score and he had manuscript paper.

One morning in rehearsal, when I wasn’t playing the concerto, I went into the hall to listen to the soloist and by chance sat directly behind the old man. Quickly, I lost interest in the rehearsal and found myself completely captivated by what this old man was writing. Basically, he was crossing certain things out of the score, but it wasn’t clear what or why. When the break arrived I introduced myself and asked what he was doing. He was very surprised, it may have been the first time he had ever talked to an orchestra member, and he was quite excited that someone was interested.

I was amazed as he told me of his lifetime project. For the past 20 years this old man had been attending rehearsals, listening and crossing out all the orchestration that was not audible. He would cross out what he couldn’t hear and go home and rewrite the score without all the superfluous and inaudible passages. At this point he reached into his old, worn briefcase and handed me a complete handwritten score to Brahms 2nd Symphony with all the passages he couldn’t hear deleted.

Of course, the easy reaction to this story is to envision it as the crazy ideas of an eccentric old man. But wait! Wouldn’t it be interesting to spend a day with an orchestra reading this man’s modifications and give his 20-year project a moment of consideration? Who knows for sure what we would hear. Surely we would be a little smarter by the end of that day.

It’s sad in a way. Nobody knows this mans name. Nobody knows where he lived, and nobody knows where the material of this 20-year project is. What we would have learned is probably lost forever.

A symphony orchestra tubist is blessed or damned, depending on your point of view on any particular day, with an embarrassment of inactive time; the most difficult part of the job was to remember where you are and to know where to come in. Symphony orchestra tubists have lots of time to observe, to think and to dream. I used to joke that I was the highest paid symphony orchestra musician in the USA per note! Maybe it was even true. I wonder how many kilometers I walked in my 35 years of full time orchestra playing, while I paced back and forth back stage during tacit tuba parts?

During my years in Los Angeles, after returning from two years with the Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam, an incredibly similar old man to the one that deleted inaudible orchestration was still visible; he was there all the time, year after year, brooding and intensely listening. It was in the Hollywood Bowl, which was the summer home of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra.

I had seen him out in the amphitheater of Hollywood Bowl for a couple of years before the day came when we found ourselves walking from the parking lot together for a morning rehearsal. We greeted each other; I heard that he had a thick Eastern Europe accent and I asked him where he was from.

“Russia, I was born in Moscow.”

“What’s your connection with symphonic music? I’ve seen you out in the audience almost every rehearsal for a couple of years.”

“I’m a musician. I used to play percussion. I played in the Moscow Youth Symphony when I was a boy.”

Like the old man in Rochester, it seemed this was the first time he had had contact with anyone in the orchestra; this is not because of rudeness of orchestra musicians but simply because the paths almost never crossed. I listened and as we walked toward the stage. I began wishing it was a lot further away, wishing that walk would last a very long time and wishing the rehearsal wasn’t going to start in five minutes.

“I played in the Moscow Youth Orchestra in my teen age years. We used to rehearse every Saturday. I played timpani. I loved playing, and I still miss it even today. We had great conductors come and work with us. Sometimes Tchaikovsky would come and play something he wrote with us, just to see how it sounded with the orchestration. Once he brought in the Andante Cantabile from the 5th Symphony. Oh, you should have heard that boy who played 1st horn, oh; he was such a wonderful player. I think Tchaikovsky loved him; after the reading of the part with the horn solo Tchaikovsky stopped the orchestra; he was crying and he walked through the orchestra to the boy who played the solo and gave him a big kiss on the lips… Well, I’ll go take my seat now, I enjoyed talking to you, have a good rehearsal. Goodbye.”

I couldn’t wait to meet him again. I saw him a couple of more times that week from the stage but I was preoccupied with other things, and then I never saw him again. I had never even asked his name.

In the 70,s there were two strange women who became almost a peripheral part of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. One was young and in her 20’s. She usually dressed in white and held a red rose in her hands. At performances, during the applause, she would stand up and hold the rose to her heart with a haunted look on her face. She reminded me of a young girl who I remember having seen in a film, or perhaps films, who was in love with a young Beethoven or some other classical superstar; she was essentially a nineteenth century groupie following her object of infatuation from concert to concert. I talked to this girl several times and found her very attractive; she was intelligent, multi lingual and the personification of how I would imagine a 19th century girl. Even with my proclivity to younger women this girl in fact was about 100 years too old for me and my 20th century 60’s fads and fashions. The last I heard she had fallen in love with a fencing master. Perhaps she had found her compatible time zone.

During the same period there was another misplaced person from another time. This woman was old, surely in her 80’s, and dressed in the high fashion style of Europe in the 1920’s. Who was she and why was she following us on our tours throughout the United States and Europe? She had a chronic smile, as if painted on her face, which was very disconcerting as she moved with the music, every phrase and every note! She was a true specter.

Neither of these chronologically misplaced women were ever seen at the same time and in my science fiction, Star Trek episode imagination I mused that these two women were the same entity, a time traveler that for some reason was attracted to the symphony orchestras of the 20th century. I wonder if she (they) is (are) ever seen anymore. I hope she has found what she was looking for.

Edinburgh, Scotland, April, 2004

Monsters

Are we the way we are because of the instrument we chose or did we choose our instrument because of the way we are?
So frequently the tuba plays the role of the heavy, the villain, that we have to wonder if it’s had any effect on us after a long period of time. Or it could be that just because of our inner character, we were attracted to an instrument that could partially release the latent monster that exists in all of us?

The tuba monsters are many and how we choose to play these passages can have a big effect on the beast we represent. My first encounter with a tuba monster was the Peasant with a Bear in the Petrushka Ballet by Stravinsky. I’ve heard that solo played so many ways: as a loveable huggable teddy bear, a pompous quasi-elegant bear and even on a few occasions a sickly wheezy asthmatic bear. Through the 35 years of my orchestral playing I have played that solo hundreds of times and through those seasons the evolution of that bear changed into quite a different beast then it was when I started.

Petrushka was the first piece I played on my first concert on my first job with the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra in September 1956, I was 18, and as luck would have it just five minutes before the concert started part of the mechanism of my 2nd valve broke and the tuba was unplayable. An announcement was made that ‘the tubist’s valve fell off’ and it was being repaired. In fact, the stage crew fixed the valve with one drop of solder that held it together until the concert was over, at which time it promptly fell apart again. That bear that night was a very scared, tuba conscious bear! In the last years with the Los Angeles Philharmonic the same bear had evolved into a very menacing, savage, salivating, wild-eyed and Godzillaesque bear! That was big fun! I played that solo several times with Stravinsky himself conducting and one morning, after playing it in a concert the night before, he came up to me during a recording session and told me that last night was the best bear he had heard; on the concert that night it was a very proud and happy bear.

One of my symphonic regrets is that I never got the opportunity to play any of the Wagner Ring Opera material that contained the famous Fafner motif. Fafner, the dragon that guarded the Rheingold, and that Siegfried eventually slew, has become rather controversial. Although I’ve never played it, it still has passed through an evolution in my minds ear.

This brings us to a discussion of the ubiquitous BBb vs. CC tuba controversy. In symphonic music the German tradition requires all contrabass tuba parts to be played on the BBb, in most of the rest of the world these parts are usually played on the CC. The Germans claim that Wagner wrote for the BBb tuba because that is what he wanted; without question, the Germans are correct about this. But I’ve always wondered why they don’t play the BBb double slide contrabasstrombone, which is also what Wagner wrote for, instead of the F bass trombone that is used in Germany today.

My favorite tuba topic is: What would the composer have used if the instruments of today were available? Again, we’re back to the conservative vs. the liberal; the traditionalist vs. the visionary; again I point out that tuba, being the youngest instrument to be accepted in the symphony orchestra family and tubists, who have made monumental progress in all aspects of their musical life, have a very definite propensity toward the liberal view: because of their short history there is very little tradition to fall back on. Of course, we really don’t know what Wagner or any other composer would have done if today’s instruments were available but we can certainly make educated guesses.

The significant difference between BBb and CC tuba is that the BBb is arguably just beyond most of our corporal physiological compatibilies (The BBb contrabasstrombone is even more physiologically demanding). In my life with the tuba I have heard very few BBb tubists who truly sounded great; it always sounds like something is being compromised: articulation dynamic, intensity, phrase; rarely have I heard a BBb tuba sounding filled and contained! And the times I have, huge male players were playing them! I realize these words may be antagonistic to many of my BBb playing friends and colleagues but it is the reality I have observed.

The trumpet has always been ahead of the tuba in instrumental sophistication. It’s not unusual to see a trumpet player take several instruments on stage for a symphony or brass quintet concert, or to see a soloist use several instruments. Notwithstanding travel logistics and economics, why should tubists settle for anything less? Why not use a Tenor (our piccolo trumpet!), a G, an F, an Eb, a D a CC, and a BBb just like the trumpet players, all that diverse equipment helps trumpet players to be more versatile and ultimately to sound better.

But let’s go back to monsters and specifically Fafner; what kind of a dragon is Fafner? I’ve seen the opera once and heard the music many times and frankly, most of the time, I got the impression that Fafner was a toothless castrato dragon! Perhaps I’ve spent too much time in Hollywood but in my mind’s ear I hear Fafner as a far more visceral and menacing monster than what we usually hear. What would Wagner have done with today’s sonic vocabulary? I think the result would be quite different and a lot scarier. I’m amazed that with a composer like Wagner, whose operas frequently receive high praise for their very modern and contemporary scenic design, that we tubists are required to be such strict traditionalists.

John Williams, perhaps the greatest of all the monster music composers, wrote one of the most powerful tuba passages ever in Close Encounters of the Third Kind for the scene where the extraterrestrial space ship lands on Earth. Hollywood tubist Jim Self brilliantly played this three part contrapuntal passage (all three parts overdubbed by Jim) on F tuba with octave divider. We’ve never heard power, clarity and fluency like that in the low register before, could that have had the same power and energy if it were played in the sounding octave on a BBb tuba?

Another masterpiece of monster music was the John Williams’s sound track of Jaws, the theme we hear when the shark was approaching, also played brilliantly by Tommy Johnson Johnson. That was really scary! Sadly, the Jabba the Hutt music by John Williams was not played in the Star Wars Return of the Jedi film but it’s played frequently in concert and may be the greatest piece of monster music we have.

Personally, I was saddened by the sound track for Jurassic Park; what a natural for the tuba, but sadly, that’s not the way John Williams saw it. I like to imagine what he might have written for a tyrannosaurs rex motif, even more, I like to imagine playing it.

Elizabeth Raum had a very clear sonic picture of the tuba’s potential monster characterization when she wrote A little Monster Music for STUBA, the now defunct Swiss tuba ensemble from Lausanne. Her monsters in this wonderful suite: Nessie, The Hydra, Fafner and St. George and the Dragon, are four distinctly different beasts.

I had the occasion once to ask Henry Mancinni why he wrote that cute little tune for Eb clarinet and piccolo for the sound track of Elephant Walk, “What else are you going to write for elephants?” was his answer. I couldn’t think of a response!

Even music for the tuba that is not purposely written as the sonic personification of something monster like often takes on an ominous character. My personal name for such passages, whether they are fragments or extended, is “Doomsday Licks”.

And yet again we return to the same question: Were we born to play doomsday licks or does playing doomsday licks for an extended period of time effect us? If so, how?!

A Letter to a Student Friend

The following is part of a letter, an answer to a question I just sent to a student. I think it may be pertenate to a lot of players today preparing to audition for a position in a symphony orchestra. It gives my openion on one of the most frequent questions I’m asked.

“Now, regarding whether we should play the written notes or “help” the orchestration: Please read an article I wrote about a year ago for TubeNews.com called “Tradition and Evolution”; that pretty much explains my philosophy. Our repertoire is loaded with works that were written at a time of poorer instruments and frankly, poorer players. I almost always tried to calculate what the composers would have written if today’s instruments and players were available.

Concerning the Mahler 5 Chicago recording, I know that Gene has the same philosophy and as I recall we worked on that symphony a long time ago in his lessons. Certainly, Mahler would have written those low Ebs in today’s world; that’s the way the melody is played in every instrument, only the tuba part was simplified.

As for what to do in an audition, you must consider the judges in each situation separately. As time passes orchestra people are growing more aware; soon the modifications will be universal; for now you must make a separate decision for each situation.

Please remember this though: When we take the liberty of making a modification it must sound great.

Hope to see you in Le Domaine.

Ciao,

           Roger

Roger Bannister and the Four Minute Mile

Dear Mr. Bobo,
If you get this, this is the tuba player from North Carolina named Kory Faison. I'm just writing to tell you that my journey is about to begin. I told my brother that I was going to be the best tuba player in the world, hands down, but he doesn't believe me. I'll be auditioning for 5 music schools my senior year in high school, but I'm going to take the time now until then to find and perfect my solos. Have you ever heard of ''Dream of a Witches' Sabbath''? Well, if you choose to read this, I've finally proven that I'm one of the best here in North Carolina, but now it's time to prove it to the world. If you're still around in about 10 years, I will be the best tuba in the world, hopefully and I hope that you'll be proud to see that a small town boy has achieved the highest level of success. So, I hope we will meet, eventually.
Thoughtfully,
Kory Faison

Thank you for your letter Kory,        

It's strange to have received your letter in my email inbox the very day I planned on starting this essay.
I sincerely hope that you will realize your tuba playing goals, that we will meet someday and that I will still be around. I remember very clearly a letter I wrote to William Bell a very long time ago, when I was in my early teens, which was much the same as your letter to me is today. But I wonder if you know who William Bell was? William Bell was the daddy, well, let's change that to granddaddy, or is it great granddaddy of all American tubists. You see, the generations of tubists are not the same as regular generations, by my observations through the 54 years of my tuba awareness; a tuba generation is about every ten years, and as each of these ten-year tuba generations passes into the next I am absolutely amazed at how the level of playing and musicianship improves.
About the same time that I wrote that letter to William Bell, it might have been 1950, I was quite interested in sports, particularly swimming as a competitor and track and field as a spectator; it was a great thrill for me to see world records fall and to see the track and swimming times getting faster and faster. One of my heroes in that period was the Australian mile runner Roger Bannister; he was the man whom the world thought would break the seemingly unachievable goal of the 'four-minute mile'. The world watched as Roger Bannister trained and prepared his strategy for his record breaking run; finely the news came that he had done it. It was a milestone (pun unintended) in track history. Today a four-minute mile is still a very good time but there are hundreds of college and even high school runners that can do it.

When I was a young man, the composer William Kraft, wrote a very fine and special piece for me called Encounters #2; it was considered extremely difficult at that time, and I had heard it said that I was the only person who could play it. If that was true it was only true for a short time; today you can frequently hear it played by high school and college players. I enjoy very much watching this happen.

But, Kory, I'm troubled by one thing; how far can it go? How fast will it be possible for a man to run a mile, will we ever see a limit? And in our tuba community will we continue to excel at the same unbelievable rate that we've seen so far? Of course, I want to believe we can but when we look at the evolution of more traditional instruments like the violin, for example, we don't see the continuing remarkable growth that is presently visible in the tuba. We see generation after generation of remarkable violinists, but we do not see the expansion of the technical capacities any more. Rather we see their ability to express their musicality, their musical soul, their musical personality. Today, when we listen to the international competitions for tuba we begin to hear the same thing, the same growing ability to project a musical atmosphere. Everybody in these competitions has an extraordinary technique; it's the music they make that makes them winners!

Your goal to become the world's greatest tubist is a noble one, but there are a few things you should know as you begin this quest. First, please keep in mind that there are other young men and women your age that have the same goal. It's very much like the Olympics, not every athlete can win a gold medal. However, the performance of these athletes is enhanced by the energy they receive from their competitors; don't forget that.

There are three pieces of advice I would like to offer as you set off on this tuba quest:
1. Become part of the extraordinary tuba community; read the magazines and books, join the associations, attend every masterclass and symposium that you can so that you will know what's happening in the tuba world, and listen; listen to every CD, recital and concert possible. Be aware of every aspect of this tuba world that you are entering.
2. Remember that this tuba community is only a small part of the much bigger and richer musical community; look beyond the tuba, look far beyond the tuba world.
3. And, be your own teacher. I'm sure you have a great teacher but he or she is your second most important teacher; you are number one! It is fun to think about the things you want in a teacher; let me start your list for you: Good musician, intelligence, kind, wise, patience, perseverance, and please don't forget a good sense of humor. Use the learning tools you have: metronome, tuner, and I hope you have and use a minidisk so you can play something and instantly hear it back. We hear things differently when we hear ourselves without the horn in our hands!
4.
Just one more thing; the experience you'll have in pursuing your quest for the next ten years will probably be more important in your life than achieving your goal of becoming the greatest tubist. Enjoy this time.
So Kory, I wish you luck in this journey, and I look forward to that meeting in ten years.
I'll be around,

Tokyo, Japan - June 30, 2004.