Mixed Blessings

[Derek Reaban]

This is a follow-up to the post that I submitted called “Focused Awareness (When Things are Going Well and Not so Well)” at: http://www.trumpetherald.com/forum/viewtopic.php?mode=viewtopic&topic=15696&forum=4&start=15

I’m usually extremely optimistic. It is the rare situation that finds me discouraged to the point of giving up in anything that I do. My experiences playing in various situations this past week however would end up testing me in ways that I had never believed possible and have, surprisingly, led to mixed blessings.

Monday of last week I had been fighting a cough with lots of congestion for over a week and that evening I had a demanding Wind Ensemble performance. It was challenging getting through everything at my normal playing level because I had not been able to practice as I normally do. It was a surprisingly good concert (the choir that we shared the program with was marvelous), and I managed to get away with a solid performance besides how I felt (thorough preparation really pays off).

On Wednesday, while I had finally gotten over most of my coughing, all of that “stuff” that had been in my head ending up plugging my left ear. It didn’t progress to an ear infection, but I was completely plugged and couldn’t hear anything out that side (literally like putting a finger in your ear to hear yourself more clearly when you are playing).

Friday and Saturday I had a rehearsal, dress rehearsal, and concert with my orchestra. We were doing El Salon Mexico, Rhapsody in Blue, and Grand Canyon Suite. I can’t even begin to explain how difficult it is to play when I was getting literally NO feedback from the rest of the ensemble, and I could really only hear myself due to this plugged up ear. Especially in the Copland where I had some exposed solo passages. The kicker was during the performance, at the outdoor amphitheater, the sun was directly behind the conductor for the first half, so not only could I not hear, but seeing was also extremely challenging! Surprisingly, everything turned out well (even the one bar rubato solo that I had with the strings). What was so frustrating was that I could tell it was a good concert, but since I couldn’t hear anything, it was like I was in a black and white silent movie. There was just a huge component of information missing (the orchestral color), and I felt like I was playing a glorified percussion instrument.

Well, here is the part of the story that I would have to call the “mixed blessing”. Tonight was a first rehearsal for my next Wind Ensemble series (and yes, I’ve been to a doctor and am on several decongestants to try and dislodge this fluid in my ear). It was an extremely demanding book and it felt like more music than usual, even for this group. We’re doing:

Holst – A Moorside Suite
Nelson – Sonoran Desert Holiday
Whitacre – Ghost Train
Van der Roost – Ponte Romano
Latham – Brighton Beach Concert March
Hanson – Chorale and Alleluia
Barnes – Sorcery Suite
Reed – Armenian Dances (Part I)

This is a one per part wind ensemble and I have been covering the 1st book now for several years. This amount of playing would have found me playing on “spread” chops especially after the constant playing in the Hanson, and I would have been wiped out at the end of the rehearsal. Surprisingly, my plugged ear finally proved to be a “benefit”. For all of the difficult situations I’ve been in over the last week, I discovered a wonderful positive about playing “plugged”. I was fully cognizant of the points at which I would have allowed myself to allow my chops to spread had I been able to actually hear the group around me. On the low forte sections, I typically get lost in the ensemble sound, and find myself trying to come out of the overall texture by increasing my volume. This invariably proves to be the pivotal point during the rehearsal where I can no longer easily produce the notes above the staff, and my endurance takes a dive.

As I watched everyone around me start to fold, I realized that I was feeling as strong as at the beginning of the rehearsal. I literally was able to play every note of this book without too much difficulty, and I attribute that to my ability to clearly hear myself at all times. I didn’t allow myself to spread my sound because my personal awareness was greatly heightened due to being plugged.

I needed this experience to show me that I am more than capable to cover a demanding first book, but I had never been able to discover at what point things start to fall apart. Well, I now have my answer!

If you are ever a situation where you feel like you need to give more volume than you are capable of just to be heard and then find that the rest of the rehearsal is MUCH more difficult, I hope you can learn something from my odd situation. The danger zone for spread chops is loud low playing. When you encounter this, try putting a finger in your ear, and be aware of your normal “maximum” volume. DON’T EXCEED THIS! I’ll bet that your experience will be similar to mine, and you will find that by protecting yourself from going to a “spread” set of chops, you will greatly increase your endurance.

Sometimes learning coming from the oddest circumstances! I hope my experience and what I learned from it may allow some of you to bail yourself out if you find yourself in a similar situation!
_________________
Derek Reaban
Tempe, Arizona
Tempe Winds / Symphony of the Southwest

[PC]

Derek,

I wholly agree with your statement that the most potent danger zone for spreading the chops lies in ff low(er) notes!

We currently rehearse for a concert including Dvorak 8th. I play first on the overture (Ambroise Thomas, Raymond) and chose to let my 2. trumpet play first on the last 2 movements of the symphony, as he is more than capable of leading the brass. I find it surprisingly difficult to get through these mvts playing the lower octave, if I am not careful to restrain my enthusiasm (our rehearsal hall is a gym hall with horrendous acoustics).

The good thing with this kind of situation is that to survive, you really have to develop an acute awareness of letting the horn resonate at its best, otherwise you either disappear in the orchestral mass or lose your lips (we have a conductor who always gives the famous hand, but in the opposite direction, wanting ever more brass - which is strange as he is a cellist in the Trondheim Symphony)!

Thanks for the good post!
Pierre

[Derek Reaban]

Pierre,

You wrote:
The good thing with this kind of situation is that to survive, you really have to develop an acute awareness of letting the horn resonate at its best, otherwise you either disappear in the orchestral mass or lose your lips

“Developing an acute awareness” is very well stated. It’s like the fine print in a contract that is vitally important to the true meaning of the contract, yet is literally impossible to discover in the sea of other text unless it is specifically pointed out to you. This “acute awareness” related to spread chops just managed to fall in my lap based on this weird plugged ear from being sick.

Just out of curiosity, how did you develop this awareness? I would open this question to anyone that is reading this as well.


Thanks!
_________________
Derek Reaban
Tempe, Arizona
Tempe Winds / Symphony of the Southwest

[PC]

Derek,

I think it has been a long process for me to develop this awareness, but a few aha! and other "despair" moments stand out along the way:

- I remember on a few occasions playing 2nd with exceptional players on 1st and realising that they were not putting any more effort than I was in their playing, yet their sound was particularly powerful. It was a hint that blowing more forcefully was not all there is to sound clear and loud.

- Playing 1st trumpet alongside the students in the Cambridge University symphony orchestra required me to deal with the problem just to be heard among the sheer mass of musicians (of an exceptional good quality). Sometimes I had the impression of blowing my guts out yet hearing everybody except myself!

- I think you described yourself in another post how, when you (I) at last manage to resonate optimally on the instrument, the sound just jumps out with an order of magnitude gain in the signal to effort ratio! When you do what you have to do correctly, you cannot miss it!

So I would say that nowadays (and it happened yesterday, I was late for rehearsal and had no time to warm up besides some buzzing in the car; the few first measures I played were completely out of focus, even though the sound was acceptable), when I struggle to hear myself and feel that I do not blow efficiently, I try very hard to hear a resonant sound in my head, maybe try to back off the lips and close them somewhat, try to lean a bit more on the lower side of pitch until I hear the strong, harmonics rich sound pop out of the bell and recognize that resonant sound I am after (very hard to describe with words but instantly recognisable when playing)!

I hope others will jump in with more articulate contributions!!

Regards,
Pierre