This morning's dark roast coffee accompanied by a crack-my-life-open essay by David Whyte on Ambition vs. Vocation. "True vocation calls us out beyond ourselves; breaks our heart in the process and then humbles, simplifies and enlightens us about the hidden, core nature of the work that enticed us in the first place."
I have yet to find a better description of a lifetime of practicing a musical instrument.
In the past few months, it has been difficult for me to find the motivation for practicing. I have been gifted new experiences, people, journeys in my life that I have been prioritizing. If you don't prioritize gifts, after all, they just seem like things you earned. So my time has been shared, cleaved, wrapped in paper and handed over; I am glad for this. I don't regret it.
But as a result, the thought that resides in my stomach lining after I don't sleep enough is I MUST PRACTICE MORE. All of the things I "want" to do in this world necessitate my feeling confident about my horn playing, my being skillful in my craft. I use my iPhone timer, I set my music in order on my music stand, I oil my valves before I begin so I can stay in the room, stay with it, for 60 minutes or 45 minutes or 38 minutes. And it's not working. I don't feel alive to the "hidden, core nature of the work" anymore than if I had left my horn in the case, taken a nap, and traipsed off to my next gig.
The blister that friendly poet Whyte casually ripped open this morning is that I have been "ambition"-ing my practice. I have been calcifying my hours by outlining the beginning and the end of each one. Ambition is the pistol at the start of the race, or perhaps the circular track itself. And where we arrive is back again, looped on ourselves. Vocation is the whitewater churning of the lactic acid in the legs, lungs desperate but trained to keep it to themselves, limbs tied on with fishing line, the primitive stem of the brain announcing "now" and then "now" and then "now."
If practice could assume the qualities of vocation rather than ambition, life would be steeped in a teeming curiosity. My hours with my horn would not be a metaphor for a life well-lived; they would be a microcosm, a fractal that contains the entirety and yet is contained. And fractals juxtaposed with fractals, hours touching other hours, tesselate until all we perceive is this warm net of "vocational practice" that simplifies everything else we do.
Or so I think. When I was in school, the ideal of "practicing" was an athletic montage- now vs. then, how good I'm going to be in 3 months, how much ass I'm going to kick at this audition because of this time I'm depositing into my musical savings account. Now, the ideal is of "my practice" in the eye-rolling New Age-y Birkenstocks sense. How can I discover an hour in my life of relative quiet where my brain is alert, my inbox is triaged, and my lips sensate with the familiar mouthpiece not yet placed there?
"A calling is a conversation between our physical bodies, our work, our intellects and imaginations, and a new world that is itself the territory we seek."
Are track stars called to serve? Yes. They are called to run around a circle. They are called to glue all these different sensations together, not too much or it'll wrinkle, making that almost-embarrassing collage of empathy. And horn players? We are called to buzz. Called to buzz, to fill every nanosecond with "now" and "sing": sing now, now sing, now sing sing sing sing now. Called to urge the metronome digits higher, called to tame the shoulders/throat/hip flexors/ankles in the quest for a neutral inhale, as still as the crepuscular pond. Called to make music, fashion it with our mouths of all things. And who am I to judge that calling? Who am I to proclaim its worth? I just picked up the phone.
Friday, July 17, 2015
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Marriage counseling
Day 25
So really, this is more Day 26 because I did not practice yesterday whilst traveling to distant lands. And in fact, that seems to be an emerging lesson of this Focused February project that has come to its whimpering end: I don't practice nearly as much as I think I do. Nor as much as I used to.
Many days (dare I surmise half?) I didn't have any time alone with my horn. That's really my definition of practice these days- am I playing my horn with no one else in the room?
This month may not have been the best choice for a practice renaissance now that I'm looking back at my schedule, but will I ever have an ideal practice schedule? I'm betting not. I'm still a young freelancer with no kids and minimal responsibilities: it's only gonna get worse from here.
I'd rather not harp on all the things this month was not cuz what's the point of that? I'm a good person, I work hard and care about a lot of things, no sense beating myself up over something that really only matters because I declare it matters. And I have declared that practice truly does matter since about the age of 12 when I would eschew TV watching in favor of scales. Ok, ok, sometimes the two would go hand in hand. As they occasionally still do... :)
Still, I have spent a huge portion of my life dedicating myself to my relationship with the horn. It's really a marriage, seen from that light.
This month has shown me that maybe my marriage isn't as simple as it once was. Maybe I have the musical equivalent of a mortgage, kids, a job offer out of state... And maybe that's okay. Normal even? But just like a marriage, you can't give up on the romance, the special intimacy that's established after so much time together. This month has helped re-kindle some of that romance and shown serious areas for improvement. And for that, I call it a success.
But I might hold off on Motivated March for a little while.
So really, this is more Day 26 because I did not practice yesterday whilst traveling to distant lands. And in fact, that seems to be an emerging lesson of this Focused February project that has come to its whimpering end: I don't practice nearly as much as I think I do. Nor as much as I used to.
Many days (dare I surmise half?) I didn't have any time alone with my horn. That's really my definition of practice these days- am I playing my horn with no one else in the room?
This month may not have been the best choice for a practice renaissance now that I'm looking back at my schedule, but will I ever have an ideal practice schedule? I'm betting not. I'm still a young freelancer with no kids and minimal responsibilities: it's only gonna get worse from here.
I'd rather not harp on all the things this month was not cuz what's the point of that? I'm a good person, I work hard and care about a lot of things, no sense beating myself up over something that really only matters because I declare it matters. And I have declared that practice truly does matter since about the age of 12 when I would eschew TV watching in favor of scales. Ok, ok, sometimes the two would go hand in hand. As they occasionally still do... :)
Still, I have spent a huge portion of my life dedicating myself to my relationship with the horn. It's really a marriage, seen from that light.
This month has shown me that maybe my marriage isn't as simple as it once was. Maybe I have the musical equivalent of a mortgage, kids, a job offer out of state... And maybe that's okay. Normal even? But just like a marriage, you can't give up on the romance, the special intimacy that's established after so much time together. This month has helped re-kindle some of that romance and shown serious areas for improvement. And for that, I call it a success.
But I might hold off on Motivated March for a little while.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Whining with Intention
Day 24
Today as I was warming up with a descending C Major scale as per usual, I thought to myself in a distinctly whiny tone, "I just can never play that C smoothly from the low D!"
And then I thought, yes I can. I know exactly how to do that. I've been told by some of the best teachers in the world precisely how to do that. And so I did it, played a smooth rich low C slurred from a D. Whoa. That was too easy.
So the rest of my practice today, I didn't just hear the things I didn't do perfectly, I whined about them, verbally and irritatingly. "I can't blow through that high B and make it to the next note on time." Yes, I can. I just did. "I can't valve trill that softly for three beats." boom. Yes I can.
This feels like a discovery, though I'm sure I've discovered it before. Truly there is nothing I straight up cannot do on the horn. I have been taught to do everything, and do it well. But somehow that whining statement that gets my optimistic-voice going (of course I can, I can do anything!) is exactly what I needed to actually practice at my potential, for a couple hours at least.
Today as I was warming up with a descending C Major scale as per usual, I thought to myself in a distinctly whiny tone, "I just can never play that C smoothly from the low D!"
And then I thought, yes I can. I know exactly how to do that. I've been told by some of the best teachers in the world precisely how to do that. And so I did it, played a smooth rich low C slurred from a D. Whoa. That was too easy.
So the rest of my practice today, I didn't just hear the things I didn't do perfectly, I whined about them, verbally and irritatingly. "I can't blow through that high B and make it to the next note on time." Yes, I can. I just did. "I can't valve trill that softly for three beats." boom. Yes I can.
This feels like a discovery, though I'm sure I've discovered it before. Truly there is nothing I straight up cannot do on the horn. I have been taught to do everything, and do it well. But somehow that whining statement that gets my optimistic-voice going (of course I can, I can do anything!) is exactly what I needed to actually practice at my potential, for a couple hours at least.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Waste it, it's free
Day 23
Today while doing a little yoga, I was trying to "send" air to different parts of my body, as per my Youtube instructor's urgings. Send air to your lower back, to your upper rib cage, down your right side, out your fingertips, etc. And today in my classes, I led my students in a bunch of warm ups where they "launched" imaginary arrows, darts, paper airplanes, and various other projectiles using their air. And yet, my air often feels like it gets stuck. Like I have to picture it in some other metaphorical way to get it to where I want it to be.
Same thing in my practice tonight. Send the air out my bell and around my head back to my left ear, as my teacher used to say. It helps, as do all of these biofeedback techniques. But why? Where does the air "go" when we send it? And why doesn't it go there to begin with?
Just some Thursday night musings as I oxygenate my blood...
Today while doing a little yoga, I was trying to "send" air to different parts of my body, as per my Youtube instructor's urgings. Send air to your lower back, to your upper rib cage, down your right side, out your fingertips, etc. And today in my classes, I led my students in a bunch of warm ups where they "launched" imaginary arrows, darts, paper airplanes, and various other projectiles using their air. And yet, my air often feels like it gets stuck. Like I have to picture it in some other metaphorical way to get it to where I want it to be.
Same thing in my practice tonight. Send the air out my bell and around my head back to my left ear, as my teacher used to say. It helps, as do all of these biofeedback techniques. But why? Where does the air "go" when we send it? And why doesn't it go there to begin with?
Just some Thursday night musings as I oxygenate my blood...
Bankruptcy
Day 22
It is early in the morning, I have only begun to sip my coffee, and so remembering yesterday's practice is rather difficult at the moment. I know I did practice. My horn was still on my bed when I got home late last night, in optimistic hopes that I'd be back earlier to get some more playing done. And I saw what music was on my stand, saw my mute on the ground, and vaguely recalled that it was probably a new music-oriented practice session, which can be tough after a day of teaching, which yesterday was.
I haven't figured out why exactly, but my lips are always exhausted after teaching, even when I don't bring my horn into school. I just sound super fuzzy and unclear, like I'd had a heavy 6+ hour the day before. Is it that I'm dehydrated? That I talk too much and dry out my lips? That my brain cannot fathom the idea of accomplishing things in two separate arenas on the same afternoon? Or is it perhaps all in my head? I try not to get too down on myself about it, because I love to teach and would never stop doing it simply because I can't practice excerpts that day. But it does make me hope/wonder/optimistically dream about a future time when teaching doesn't entirely bankrupt me and make me pass out on my bed next to my horn, dreaming of our next productive practice adventure...
It is early in the morning, I have only begun to sip my coffee, and so remembering yesterday's practice is rather difficult at the moment. I know I did practice. My horn was still on my bed when I got home late last night, in optimistic hopes that I'd be back earlier to get some more playing done. And I saw what music was on my stand, saw my mute on the ground, and vaguely recalled that it was probably a new music-oriented practice session, which can be tough after a day of teaching, which yesterday was.
I haven't figured out why exactly, but my lips are always exhausted after teaching, even when I don't bring my horn into school. I just sound super fuzzy and unclear, like I'd had a heavy 6+ hour the day before. Is it that I'm dehydrated? That I talk too much and dry out my lips? That my brain cannot fathom the idea of accomplishing things in two separate arenas on the same afternoon? Or is it perhaps all in my head? I try not to get too down on myself about it, because I love to teach and would never stop doing it simply because I can't practice excerpts that day. But it does make me hope/wonder/optimistically dream about a future time when teaching doesn't entirely bankrupt me and make me pass out on my bed next to my horn, dreaming of our next productive practice adventure...
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Strum, strummy strum
Day 21
I taught a lesson this
afternoon to a smart, talented student who can't seem to practice
particularly well. She has good musical instincts, but week to week,
things just aren't sticking. So I've started talking very
deliberately about different ways to structure practice- using a
timer, making a list, writing journal entries, recording things on
her phone. But today I went back to basics: a good old step-by-step
list. And here's what we came up with:
Step 1: Learn rhythms
Step 2: Learn fingerings
Step 3: Learn pitches
Step 4*: Trial and error
Step 5: Play through
sections
Step 6: Play through piece
Obviously this list is
intended for a beginner, but it's interesting how much it applies to
me too. (Minus step 2. I feel pretty good about my fingerings these
days.) The step that I put a star next to in my student's workbook,
Step 4, is the one she really struggles with. And don't we all?
That's the step where you have to actually hypothesize something,
anything, that might help you play just a tiny bit better. And then
try it out. “Does thinking about the shape of my tongue help me to
play that measure softer?” Yes? No? Kinda? Argh.
When I discussed this step
with her, she actually groaned out loud. “I never had to do that
with piano,” she said. And she's right. You don't have to do that
with piano, at least not at the beginner level. For an instrument
like piano, you put your fingers on the right buttons, get the
coordination down, and voila, a song appears! But horn is just
harder. It's a difficult instrument and you can really only think
about one thing at a time while your brain is trying to process how
to accurately engage tiny random muscles around your mouth. And you
have to think about something; you have to make a psychological
choice to trick your brain into learning an unintuitive skill.
Problem solving is a
fundamental part of any practice, but horn takes a kind of emotional
self-awareness that isn't required in certain other instruments
(again, at the beginner level). I feel for this poor 8th
grader, although it also made me feel for myself too. Why oh why
didn't I/we just pick ukulele?
 |
| Alternate universe me |
Monday, February 23, 2015
Once more, with feeling
Day 20
I started learning a difficult new piece today that I have to perform in about a month. As I sat down to sightread through it for the first time, I was super annoyed by the looks of it. It didn't look idiomatic or fun to play, and it seemed mostly unnecessarily tiring. I got through it painfully, missing just about every note and every other rhythm, yelling a couple choice obscenities along the way. Then I grumbled into the kitchen, made myself a cup of tea, and realized that one 15-minute sightreading session does not a blog entry make. So back I went to the music stand, this time starting from the end of the piece.
Given that I've been a musician for about 93% of the time that I've been alive on this earth, it should no longer surprise me that practice actually works. But guys, it really does. I spent a little over an hour working on the last page of the piece, taking it apart and getting it in my ear and my fingers, repeating each lick 10+ times until I knew what atonal note would come next. And hell, I actually learned a quarter of the piece. Within 60 minutes I went from dreadful, abject imaginings of how the performance would go to, "oh, this'll be fun to put together!"
I laughed out loud at the end of all this because I'm writing a goddamn practice blog, you would think I'd have some faith in the art of practicing. But I'm still surprised how dramatically one can improve merely by repeating something.
||: Merely by repeating something :||
I started learning a difficult new piece today that I have to perform in about a month. As I sat down to sightread through it for the first time, I was super annoyed by the looks of it. It didn't look idiomatic or fun to play, and it seemed mostly unnecessarily tiring. I got through it painfully, missing just about every note and every other rhythm, yelling a couple choice obscenities along the way. Then I grumbled into the kitchen, made myself a cup of tea, and realized that one 15-minute sightreading session does not a blog entry make. So back I went to the music stand, this time starting from the end of the piece.
Given that I've been a musician for about 93% of the time that I've been alive on this earth, it should no longer surprise me that practice actually works. But guys, it really does. I spent a little over an hour working on the last page of the piece, taking it apart and getting it in my ear and my fingers, repeating each lick 10+ times until I knew what atonal note would come next. And hell, I actually learned a quarter of the piece. Within 60 minutes I went from dreadful, abject imaginings of how the performance would go to, "oh, this'll be fun to put together!"
I laughed out loud at the end of all this because I'm writing a goddamn practice blog, you would think I'd have some faith in the art of practicing. But I'm still surprised how dramatically one can improve merely by repeating something.
||: Merely by repeating something :||
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Keepin it loose
Day 19
Sometimes without meaning to, my practice becomes a mirror of the quality of my thinking. Days when I feel optimistic, calm, focused my practice is such. Days when I feel tired, spazzy, over-caffeinated- well yes. That would be tonight. I just couldn't decide on what to play so I just played through the first 4 lines of like every concerto I've ever worked on, played scales as fast as possible, lip trilled till I couldn't lip trill no more, then watched Youtube videos. Yeah. But then, I had a stroke of inspiration: tonight should be my night o' improvisation. I try to work in some improv time to my regular practice but it's been a while. But tonight, my ADHD goldfish brain had some pretty creative ideas for some interesting music. I came up with a pretty sweet bass line inspired by my social security number (I'd describe it, but identity theft...) and then made up a little ditty for each YouTube comment that I was reading. So many exclamation points!!!!
I'm not sure I'd call tonight productive, but it was fun. And maybe tomorrow, fewer cups of dark roast...
Sometimes without meaning to, my practice becomes a mirror of the quality of my thinking. Days when I feel optimistic, calm, focused my practice is such. Days when I feel tired, spazzy, over-caffeinated- well yes. That would be tonight. I just couldn't decide on what to play so I just played through the first 4 lines of like every concerto I've ever worked on, played scales as fast as possible, lip trilled till I couldn't lip trill no more, then watched Youtube videos. Yeah. But then, I had a stroke of inspiration: tonight should be my night o' improvisation. I try to work in some improv time to my regular practice but it's been a while. But tonight, my ADHD goldfish brain had some pretty creative ideas for some interesting music. I came up with a pretty sweet bass line inspired by my social security number (I'd describe it, but identity theft...) and then made up a little ditty for each YouTube comment that I was reading. So many exclamation points!!!!
I'm not sure I'd call tonight productive, but it was fun. And maybe tomorrow, fewer cups of dark roast...
Friday, February 20, 2015
Tipsy training
Day 18
Because it's Friday night and I had a 6 hour rehearsal day, I am not ashamed to admit that I pre-gamed this evening's practice session with a little gin. It's quite rare for me to drink and practice (or drink and blog...) but I must say, I actually think one drink is a good thing for me after a difficult day. My chops feel less tired than they ostensibly should and I had a kind of relaxed curiosity while playing through parts of the Ligeti that made me more accurate than I have been all week. I just get out of my head a little bit, I care a little less about that one part that I "always mess up", and gosh darn it, I surprised myself this evening.
Not recommended for all ages, evenings, or circumstances, but tonight I say...good adult decision, me. :)
Because it's Friday night and I had a 6 hour rehearsal day, I am not ashamed to admit that I pre-gamed this evening's practice session with a little gin. It's quite rare for me to drink and practice (or drink and blog...) but I must say, I actually think one drink is a good thing for me after a difficult day. My chops feel less tired than they ostensibly should and I had a kind of relaxed curiosity while playing through parts of the Ligeti that made me more accurate than I have been all week. I just get out of my head a little bit, I care a little less about that one part that I "always mess up", and gosh darn it, I surprised myself this evening.
Not recommended for all ages, evenings, or circumstances, but tonight I say...good adult decision, me. :)
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Body swap
Day 17
Thinking more about the power of role-playing in transcending our own habits and limitation, I spent my evening practice channeling a horn colleague I know. This person has a beautifully resonant and supple high register and tends to approach the horn from a vocal, rather than brass player, perspective. I admire the hell out of this person's horn playing, so tonight I just pretended I was her. This yielded better results than simply pretending to be someone who doesn't struggle with the things I typically struggle with. Having a more exact image can be incredibly useful: what does this person actually look like when playing lovely high notes? Can I somehow make my embouchure imitate that image, or my posture imitate that ease? The answer is...kinda? It did make things sound a little bit better and feel a little bit easier when I just assumed the identity of this person. And I couldn't help wonder if, in a "Freaky Friday"-esque twist, she might be using my low register as a model this very evening? Borrowing super powers for the night can be kind of fun, and maybe someday I won't have to borrow anymore.
Thinking more about the power of role-playing in transcending our own habits and limitation, I spent my evening practice channeling a horn colleague I know. This person has a beautifully resonant and supple high register and tends to approach the horn from a vocal, rather than brass player, perspective. I admire the hell out of this person's horn playing, so tonight I just pretended I was her. This yielded better results than simply pretending to be someone who doesn't struggle with the things I typically struggle with. Having a more exact image can be incredibly useful: what does this person actually look like when playing lovely high notes? Can I somehow make my embouchure imitate that image, or my posture imitate that ease? The answer is...kinda? It did make things sound a little bit better and feel a little bit easier when I just assumed the identity of this person. And I couldn't help wonder if, in a "Freaky Friday"-esque twist, she might be using my low register as a model this very evening? Borrowing super powers for the night can be kind of fun, and maybe someday I won't have to borrow anymore.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Elbow grease
Day 16
I took the day off yesterday to just do something fun, and came back to my horn with a much better attitude this morning. Sometimes you just need a reset button. I was getting quite frustrated both with my schedule and my chops last week, and a day off can put everything in perspective. It's okay to have a week slump now and again- I can and will recover.
While I was practicing today, I was enjoying my tone. Every now and again, I am able to hear how beautiful the horn (and, I guess, me?) can sound. It's so noble and gives you that sinus-vibrating richness as you sing through sinewy melodies. (Thanks, Strauss.) I think my enjoyment was due in part to my "Inner Game"-ness which has been on my mind throughout the day. It can be such a chilling and thrilling sensation to realize that your body can do an amazing thing all by itself. I don't think about how to produce my tone, I just make it, my sound, out there in the world. It's so cool!
I also taught a lesson today and got on my student about organizing her practice with a little more intention. Solve one problem at a time, tackle one measure, one concept, one rhythm, and you will feel a right-ness of spirit, a sense of empowered accomplishment. That is the kind of practice that sticks- getting in there and digging out the grit between the tiles. Or scrubbing grease stains off the frying pan, which is what I spent an incredibly satisfying 20 minutes doing this evening.
I took the day off yesterday to just do something fun, and came back to my horn with a much better attitude this morning. Sometimes you just need a reset button. I was getting quite frustrated both with my schedule and my chops last week, and a day off can put everything in perspective. It's okay to have a week slump now and again- I can and will recover.
While I was practicing today, I was enjoying my tone. Every now and again, I am able to hear how beautiful the horn (and, I guess, me?) can sound. It's so noble and gives you that sinus-vibrating richness as you sing through sinewy melodies. (Thanks, Strauss.) I think my enjoyment was due in part to my "Inner Game"-ness which has been on my mind throughout the day. It can be such a chilling and thrilling sensation to realize that your body can do an amazing thing all by itself. I don't think about how to produce my tone, I just make it, my sound, out there in the world. It's so cool!
I also taught a lesson today and got on my student about organizing her practice with a little more intention. Solve one problem at a time, tackle one measure, one concept, one rhythm, and you will feel a right-ness of spirit, a sense of empowered accomplishment. That is the kind of practice that sticks- getting in there and digging out the grit between the tiles. Or scrubbing grease stains off the frying pan, which is what I spent an incredibly satisfying 20 minutes doing this evening.
 |
| I will best you. |
Monday, February 16, 2015
1e+a, 2e+a, 3e+a
Day 15
Just before I started practicing, I read the chapter in "Inner Game of Tennis" about concentration. The author urges tennis players to not just "watch the ball", but watch the seams on the tennis ball as it flies over the net. Watch how they grow and change, watch them as they leave your opponent's racket, watch them even when you think you know precisely where your shot is going. And I was trying to think about what the musical equivalent of the tennis ball seams is. It took me till the last 5 minutes of today's practice during a slow movement of a Handel sonata: subdivision. Our "tennis seams" are the 16th, 32nd, even 64th notes that make up every rhythm, particularly in slow music. And subdivision is always present, always "moving". If you can truly concentrate on subdividing while playing a beautiful phrase, somehow the phrase feels more buoyant, effortless, graceful than you imagined it could be. When in doubt, just...subdivide; distract your Self 1 while your Self 2 does the thing it always knew it could- make exquisite music.
Just before I started practicing, I read the chapter in "Inner Game of Tennis" about concentration. The author urges tennis players to not just "watch the ball", but watch the seams on the tennis ball as it flies over the net. Watch how they grow and change, watch them as they leave your opponent's racket, watch them even when you think you know precisely where your shot is going. And I was trying to think about what the musical equivalent of the tennis ball seams is. It took me till the last 5 minutes of today's practice during a slow movement of a Handel sonata: subdivision. Our "tennis seams" are the 16th, 32nd, even 64th notes that make up every rhythm, particularly in slow music. And subdivision is always present, always "moving". If you can truly concentrate on subdividing while playing a beautiful phrase, somehow the phrase feels more buoyant, effortless, graceful than you imagined it could be. When in doubt, just...subdivide; distract your Self 1 while your Self 2 does the thing it always knew it could- make exquisite music.
You are what you pretend to be
Day 14
Last night en route back home, I started re-reading "The Inner Game of Tennis". I first read this amazing book in college on my horn teacher's recommendation, but haven't really picked it up since. And it is just full of profound insights related to tennis (which I do not play at all) and the art of learning (which I "play" every time I practice). I could blog about pretty much every chapter of the book, but for some reason the one that's sticking with me as I prepare to practice today is the chapter on role playing. People can sometimes make extraordinary progress and surprise themselves by simply pretending to play tennis like a pro. Pretend like you have an aggressive volley, pretend like you know you're going to play consistent defense, etc. And so for today, I think I'm going to pretend like I am a wonderful practicer. One of those people who can focus quickly and naturally for hours at a time, every day; who listens non-judgmentally but with a critical ear; who goes for things with dramatically aggressive air but soft lips. It may not work, or it may just be the role I was born to play, the role I could already be playing.
Last night en route back home, I started re-reading "The Inner Game of Tennis". I first read this amazing book in college on my horn teacher's recommendation, but haven't really picked it up since. And it is just full of profound insights related to tennis (which I do not play at all) and the art of learning (which I "play" every time I practice). I could blog about pretty much every chapter of the book, but for some reason the one that's sticking with me as I prepare to practice today is the chapter on role playing. People can sometimes make extraordinary progress and surprise themselves by simply pretending to play tennis like a pro. Pretend like you have an aggressive volley, pretend like you know you're going to play consistent defense, etc. And so for today, I think I'm going to pretend like I am a wonderful practicer. One of those people who can focus quickly and naturally for hours at a time, every day; who listens non-judgmentally but with a critical ear; who goes for things with dramatically aggressive air but soft lips. It may not work, or it may just be the role I was born to play, the role I could already be playing.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Pass it on
Day 13
Not much to report on my horn day yesterday except 8-month-old babies seem to like it. I let my friend's baby touch my horn and explore it (with her mouth cuz that's what babies do). She knew after watching me that the mouthpiece end belonged near her mouth but after slobbering all over it for a few minutes she grew frustrated with its inability to make sound for her. And I was remembering my very first day playing horn in summer band when I was 8 years old. I opened up the case, was in awe at the gold and the blue velvet and the sheer complexity of the object before me, but I had no clue how to play it. I wasn't even sure which end belonged near my mouth until I saw the other kids putting together their trumpets. And I was so embarrassed to have to fail in front of my peers that I went home and practiced for nearly 3 hours. And the rest is history.
But this baby didn't react like 8-year-old me because she couldn't possibly. But she also never has to because now she knows how the horn works! And perhaps someday when she's a little older and can actually retain memories of her experiences, she will remember her dad's friend playing some squirrelly instrument for her and she will seek out a similar experience for herself. And somehow a musical lineage is created and somehow I will have made the world a slightly easier place for the next generation which is what every modern president has urged us to do. I don't normally equate Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with the American dream, but hey when in Rome (or Washington DC)...
Not much to report on my horn day yesterday except 8-month-old babies seem to like it. I let my friend's baby touch my horn and explore it (with her mouth cuz that's what babies do). She knew after watching me that the mouthpiece end belonged near her mouth but after slobbering all over it for a few minutes she grew frustrated with its inability to make sound for her. And I was remembering my very first day playing horn in summer band when I was 8 years old. I opened up the case, was in awe at the gold and the blue velvet and the sheer complexity of the object before me, but I had no clue how to play it. I wasn't even sure which end belonged near my mouth until I saw the other kids putting together their trumpets. And I was so embarrassed to have to fail in front of my peers that I went home and practiced for nearly 3 hours. And the rest is history.
But this baby didn't react like 8-year-old me because she couldn't possibly. But she also never has to because now she knows how the horn works! And perhaps someday when she's a little older and can actually retain memories of her experiences, she will remember her dad's friend playing some squirrelly instrument for her and she will seek out a similar experience for herself. And somehow a musical lineage is created and somehow I will have made the world a slightly easier place for the next generation which is what every modern president has urged us to do. I don't normally equate Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with the American dream, but hey when in Rome (or Washington DC)...
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Just Plain Fancy
Day 12
Apologies for this post's tardiness and brevity as I type on my phone from a new and strange city. Actually not strange, just new. I'm visiting a friend this weekend so chances are my practice will be minimal, though I am setting myself a goal of learning 5 measures of the Ligeti, even as my friend's baby daughter crawls and giggles at my feet. Focused February. Yesterday my chops felt good, finally, after days of pain and rigidity each time I picked up the horn. Maybe I should start each morning with 150 kids telling me I sound "noble, fancy, and medieval" as I warm up in their forgivingly resonant gymnasiums. Fancy French horn. I'll take it.
Apologies for this post's tardiness and brevity as I type on my phone from a new and strange city. Actually not strange, just new. I'm visiting a friend this weekend so chances are my practice will be minimal, though I am setting myself a goal of learning 5 measures of the Ligeti, even as my friend's baby daughter crawls and giggles at my feet. Focused February. Yesterday my chops felt good, finally, after days of pain and rigidity each time I picked up the horn. Maybe I should start each morning with 150 kids telling me I sound "noble, fancy, and medieval" as I warm up in their forgivingly resonant gymnasiums. Fancy French horn. I'll take it.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Dangling carrot
Day 11
As has been the theme most of this week, I had minimal time with my horn today. I tried to focus during my 50 minutes of practice time, but I was just having a hard time keeping the negative thoughts away and feeling progress. I went to hear a horn-tastic orchestra concert tonight and I couldn't help thinking about how incredibly motivated I was in my undergrad to become a brass jock. I know now, thanks to my teaching experience, that that motivation was mostly extrinsic and not super healthy nor sustainable. But man I miss it. I miss wanting to play louder, higher, faster, shorter, whatever, than the person practicing next to me. I miss the gnawing excerpt-to-excerpt competition in master classes. I miss the "who warmed up earlier in the morning/practiced concerti later into the night" humble bragging.
I don't miss any of those things, to be honest. I guess I just miss college. As I said, I never had a healthy relationship with practice in my college years, which is a large part of why I started this blog. But tonight hearing a powerhouse horn section in an orchestra, which is all that I wanted from life from the age of 18-23, took me back to that time. And made me feel even more disappointed with this week's progress.
Tomorrow is a new day, though. What's next?
As has been the theme most of this week, I had minimal time with my horn today. I tried to focus during my 50 minutes of practice time, but I was just having a hard time keeping the negative thoughts away and feeling progress. I went to hear a horn-tastic orchestra concert tonight and I couldn't help thinking about how incredibly motivated I was in my undergrad to become a brass jock. I know now, thanks to my teaching experience, that that motivation was mostly extrinsic and not super healthy nor sustainable. But man I miss it. I miss wanting to play louder, higher, faster, shorter, whatever, than the person practicing next to me. I miss the gnawing excerpt-to-excerpt competition in master classes. I miss the "who warmed up earlier in the morning/practiced concerti later into the night" humble bragging.
I don't miss any of those things, to be honest. I guess I just miss college. As I said, I never had a healthy relationship with practice in my college years, which is a large part of why I started this blog. But tonight hearing a powerhouse horn section in an orchestra, which is all that I wanted from life from the age of 18-23, took me back to that time. And made me feel even more disappointed with this week's progress.
Tomorrow is a new day, though. What's next?
 |
| Long tones, my dear. Long tones. |
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Solidarity in mediocrity
Day 10
Another 14 hour crazy day of running all over the city, another day without horn practice. But I did have a 2.5 hour rehearsal with other brass players and we all commiserated about how out of shape we are. Playing with string and woodwind players for the past weeks, I forget that I'm not the only one that just gives up on my chops sometimes. It's just part of life for those who must use our flesh to make noise day in, day out. And this week, I'm 85% teacher, 15% performer. I just hope that 15% is enough to get me (and these other brass players) through two more school performances Friday morning...
Another 14 hour crazy day of running all over the city, another day without horn practice. But I did have a 2.5 hour rehearsal with other brass players and we all commiserated about how out of shape we are. Playing with string and woodwind players for the past weeks, I forget that I'm not the only one that just gives up on my chops sometimes. It's just part of life for those who must use our flesh to make noise day in, day out. And this week, I'm 85% teacher, 15% performer. I just hope that 15% is enough to get me (and these other brass players) through two more school performances Friday morning...
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
How-To
Day 9
Somehow this Focused February gauntlet is actually causing me to do a better job at horn life. I cannot lie, I am feeling quite run-down. Might have something to do with the 2000+ school children I've interacted with over the last several weeks...Just a working theory there. Practice hasn't been my first priority on most days, and it makes me miss those days of grad school when it was the ONLY priority, besides perfecting my lentil soup recipe. (Gotta add those mushrooms)
Tonight's energy level was low and dropping, but I did manage to focus on two distinct concepts for an hour: breathing into my super tight and rigid low back, rather than just in my chest; and saying "how" on my inhale and "to" into the horn. How, to, how-to, howto. Sounds simple. It is simple. So why do I forgot "how to" play the horn? Brilliant. Stunningly easy to remember. What, I ask myself, gets in the way?
I honestly don't know what gets in the way. That's like asking me to estimate how many human beings I cross paths with in NYC every day. All things get in the way of focusing on my breathing. All things get in the way of "how to" do things with ease and reliability. This is a joy of life, I suppose, re-discovering the way alongside all the things that impede it. Frankly, though, I have to look elsewhere for joys right at this moment, like frozen Thin Mints and 8 hours of sleep.
Somehow this Focused February gauntlet is actually causing me to do a better job at horn life. I cannot lie, I am feeling quite run-down. Might have something to do with the 2000+ school children I've interacted with over the last several weeks...Just a working theory there. Practice hasn't been my first priority on most days, and it makes me miss those days of grad school when it was the ONLY priority, besides perfecting my lentil soup recipe. (Gotta add those mushrooms)Tonight's energy level was low and dropping, but I did manage to focus on two distinct concepts for an hour: breathing into my super tight and rigid low back, rather than just in my chest; and saying "how" on my inhale and "to" into the horn. How, to, how-to, howto. Sounds simple. It is simple. So why do I forgot "how to" play the horn? Brilliant. Stunningly easy to remember. What, I ask myself, gets in the way?
I honestly don't know what gets in the way. That's like asking me to estimate how many human beings I cross paths with in NYC every day. All things get in the way of focusing on my breathing. All things get in the way of "how to" do things with ease and reliability. This is a joy of life, I suppose, re-discovering the way alongside all the things that impede it. Frankly, though, I have to look elsewhere for joys right at this moment, like frozen Thin Mints and 8 hours of sleep.
Monday, February 9, 2015
2 points?
Day 8
On the eighth day of this practice month, I did not practice. I ran around the city, played a concert, led a discussion, drank beers, fought about feminism...but I did not practice. It's okay though. I had a good day on planet Earth, I think; I didn't harm humanity and perhaps even helped. AND I hit a 13th partial without warming up, entirely by ear. SWISH!
On the eighth day of this practice month, I did not practice. I ran around the city, played a concert, led a discussion, drank beers, fought about feminism...but I did not practice. It's okay though. I had a good day on planet Earth, I think; I didn't harm humanity and perhaps even helped. AND I hit a 13th partial without warming up, entirely by ear. SWISH!
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Ctrl + Z
Day 7
Not much time today to write, nor to practice but I made the conscious decision to try to spend my 40 minutes getting better at one specific thing, rather than "get better at the horn" which is often how my light practice days turn out. So I got better at 3 lines of the second movement of the Ligeti Trio.
And then I decided to run the whole movement, which was stupid and pointless and I may have undone all of my slow, careful, focused practice. Guess we'll find out tomorrow. That "undo" button is just so easy to hit...
Not much time today to write, nor to practice but I made the conscious decision to try to spend my 40 minutes getting better at one specific thing, rather than "get better at the horn" which is often how my light practice days turn out. So I got better at 3 lines of the second movement of the Ligeti Trio.
And then I decided to run the whole movement, which was stupid and pointless and I may have undone all of my slow, careful, focused practice. Guess we'll find out tomorrow. That "undo" button is just so easy to hit...
Saturday, February 7, 2015
TIme keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping...
Day 6
Today I did something rather out of character for me: I started practicing at a random part of an hour. I generally do all in my power (including pretty silly procrastination techniques) to begin my practice sessions on the hour (3:00) or the half hour (3:30). I don't have a good reason for doing this, but then compulsive people never do- that's what makes it a compulsion. If I'm feeling really saucy, I'll start at the :15 or :45, but that's pretty rare. This afternoon, though, I went crazy! Practiced for 25 minutes, took a nap, started practicing again at 2:48, don't EVEN KNOW how long I practiced, went for a run, and then just did more playing until my chops gave out. Fast and loose, this girl!
Felt like some kind of liberating luxury and I do believe I might try it again sometime. Maybe even tomorrow. Who knows where this could lead? Maybe I'll even try grocery shopping without a list tomorrow!
Today I did something rather out of character for me: I started practicing at a random part of an hour. I generally do all in my power (including pretty silly procrastination techniques) to begin my practice sessions on the hour (3:00) or the half hour (3:30). I don't have a good reason for doing this, but then compulsive people never do- that's what makes it a compulsion. If I'm feeling really saucy, I'll start at the :15 or :45, but that's pretty rare. This afternoon, though, I went crazy! Practiced for 25 minutes, took a nap, started practicing again at 2:48, don't EVEN KNOW how long I practiced, went for a run, and then just did more playing until my chops gave out. Fast and loose, this girl!
Felt like some kind of liberating luxury and I do believe I might try it again sometime. Maybe even tomorrow. Who knows where this could lead? Maybe I'll even try grocery shopping without a list tomorrow!
 |
| Face-melting, clock-melting 14 hour horn solo!!! |
Friday, February 6, 2015
The hips don't lie
Day 5
Today was a day where I valued quality over quantity in my practice. I only got about 90 minutes of work in, but I feel like I made concrete, retainable progress up the side of Mt. Ligeti. I do believe this is because I just had a great day all around. I spent the afternoon at yoga and then at a much-needed Alexander lesson, ate delicious carrot ginger soup, caught up on many emails, and noticed the beautiful architecture in New York City. And after a day like today, I wonder why I can't have this feeling every day. I felt calm, relaxed, not pressed for time nor pressed for Facebook-refreshing.
Most importantly, I released some serious tension in my hip flexors today. May sound small, but for me, hip flexors are the alpha and omega of my feeling at home and free in my body. Even right now as I type this, if I can think about a little more freedom in my hips, my weight sinks down deeper in my chair, my feet spread out on to the ground, I feel my chest widen and my breath deepen.
And evidently the 13th partial on the A harmonic is directly tied to my hip flexors too. What phenomenal power I possess. If only Pythagoras would have known.
Today was a day where I valued quality over quantity in my practice. I only got about 90 minutes of work in, but I feel like I made concrete, retainable progress up the side of Mt. Ligeti. I do believe this is because I just had a great day all around. I spent the afternoon at yoga and then at a much-needed Alexander lesson, ate delicious carrot ginger soup, caught up on many emails, and noticed the beautiful architecture in New York City. And after a day like today, I wonder why I can't have this feeling every day. I felt calm, relaxed, not pressed for time nor pressed for Facebook-refreshing.
Most importantly, I released some serious tension in my hip flexors today. May sound small, but for me, hip flexors are the alpha and omega of my feeling at home and free in my body. Even right now as I type this, if I can think about a little more freedom in my hips, my weight sinks down deeper in my chair, my feet spread out on to the ground, I feel my chest widen and my breath deepen.
And evidently the 13th partial on the A harmonic is directly tied to my hip flexors too. What phenomenal power I possess. If only Pythagoras would have known.
 |
| Work dem hips, girrrrrl. |
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Asymptotes
Day 4
I had a blessed morning off from 9 am performances (in favor of 9 am classroom teaching), so actually got a chance to miss my horn today. As I began my warm-up arpeggios, I started thinking about something my former teacher told me about "legato"- that one can never attain a truly perfect legato. One can get very very close and spend many years thinking about what physical and mental habits can lead to connection between notes, but the ideal slur can never be reached by acoustic instruments. I simply love the idea that there is a musical asymptote that we can approach but simply never reach. In a technical sense, it helps me to stay truly connected to each note I play to think of this limit, think of my curve of air approaching it but never reaching it. (I was obviously a math nerd back in the day).
It also reminds me of that feeling I get when I practice the Alexander Technique. After a great lesson or lie-down when I have released this excess tension in my body, I sometimes expect that when I stand up, my entire body and life will be free of tension. But of course, each moment that we're alive and using our bodies in the world, we are creating and freeing tension. The question is not, "Who can I be?" but "Who am I becoming?" And we will only ever be becoming, we will never be. (Whoa.....)
And for tonight, it's a great feeling to have this really simple metaphor, a freaking C Major arpeggio, to illustrate something so beautifully profound.
I had a blessed morning off from 9 am performances (in favor of 9 am classroom teaching), so actually got a chance to miss my horn today. As I began my warm-up arpeggios, I started thinking about something my former teacher told me about "legato"- that one can never attain a truly perfect legato. One can get very very close and spend many years thinking about what physical and mental habits can lead to connection between notes, but the ideal slur can never be reached by acoustic instruments. I simply love the idea that there is a musical asymptote that we can approach but simply never reach. In a technical sense, it helps me to stay truly connected to each note I play to think of this limit, think of my curve of air approaching it but never reaching it. (I was obviously a math nerd back in the day).
It also reminds me of that feeling I get when I practice the Alexander Technique. After a great lesson or lie-down when I have released this excess tension in my body, I sometimes expect that when I stand up, my entire body and life will be free of tension. But of course, each moment that we're alive and using our bodies in the world, we are creating and freeing tension. The question is not, "Who can I be?" but "Who am I becoming?" And we will only ever be becoming, we will never be. (Whoa.....)
And for tonight, it's a great feeling to have this really simple metaphor, a freaking C Major arpeggio, to illustrate something so beautifully profound.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Every (other) fiber of my being
Day 3
I seriously considered not practicing today, but the thought of this very paragraph led me to unzip my case, buzz a few notes, and give it a good solid 45 minutes. My chops are tired and the tissue of my lips is in questionable form. Because I'm playing so many early morning concerts (the last time I've played this many days in a row before 9 am, Youtube did not yet exist), I just feel like I don't have the stamina to practice after about 3 pm. Which I've decided is okay. It's okay to not practice if every fiber of your being tells you not to. But today, it was only half my fibers, so I decided to have at it and learn some of the last movement of the Ligeti Trio. The more dead my embouchure feels, the more likely I am to waste my chops playing mindless scales and etudes, accomplishing nothing. It's pretty counterintuitive, but then again so is watching Netflix when I'm short on time and need to lesson plan. Today though, the thought of having to share this paragraph again made me actually think about a goal for my practice for just one minute before I began to mindlessly play. And so, I did get some of the Ligeti in my ear, not an easy thing with its gnarly harmonics (see my previous post). And now...
I guess I'll lesson plan instead of watching Netflix. Focused February, y'all. It's happening.
I seriously considered not practicing today, but the thought of this very paragraph led me to unzip my case, buzz a few notes, and give it a good solid 45 minutes. My chops are tired and the tissue of my lips is in questionable form. Because I'm playing so many early morning concerts (the last time I've played this many days in a row before 9 am, Youtube did not yet exist), I just feel like I don't have the stamina to practice after about 3 pm. Which I've decided is okay. It's okay to not practice if every fiber of your being tells you not to. But today, it was only half my fibers, so I decided to have at it and learn some of the last movement of the Ligeti Trio. The more dead my embouchure feels, the more likely I am to waste my chops playing mindless scales and etudes, accomplishing nothing. It's pretty counterintuitive, but then again so is watching Netflix when I'm short on time and need to lesson plan. Today though, the thought of having to share this paragraph again made me actually think about a goal for my practice for just one minute before I began to mindlessly play. And so, I did get some of the Ligeti in my ear, not an easy thing with its gnarly harmonics (see my previous post). And now...
I guess I'll lesson plan instead of watching Netflix. Focused February, y'all. It's happening.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
A volleyball parable
Day 2
When I was in junior high, I played on my school's volleyball team. My first year on the squad, I struggled with getting my serves in play and by the season-ending tournament, I was so in my head about serving that I switched to underhand serves (scorned like Dance Dance Revolution on the super slow setting). Over the summer before next year's try-outs, I practiced my serve against the wall of my house every afternoon. I must have served close to 2000 serves that month and I would go until I could hit 10 powerful, accurate, well-timed serves without missing. That second season, I was a changed pre-teen. I never missed a serve and became something of a clutch ace-hitter. But, every single time I had to serve, I would expect to fail. I would dread it, even picture the ball bouncing pitifully 6 feet in front of me, but somehow, miraculously, my newly-skilled muscle memory would take over, and the ball would sail over the net.
This is how I think about high horn playing. I struggled to play high horn for so many years of my life. It was my Achilles heel, the unwieldy psychological baggage I carried into every audition, the thing that I tried to deflect in lessons. But after many years of practice and horn therapy, I have
wrestled that demon to a TKO. By the end of school, I had a very passable high range and nowadays, it rarely is a problem in most any professional situation. Yet still, whenever I receive new music for a gig, I scan for "high notes." And tonight, I started practicing knowing that I'd focus on "high notes" with very low expectations. But when I started playing, my high notes were fine. They just sailed right over the net, thanks to my years of serving those high notes (many more than 2000) against the wall.
Unlike volleyball, I care very much about horn. And I also care about feeling good when I play the horn. So perhaps it's time to let go of this hair-shirt (hair-jersey?) that I've been wearing for so many years, because it is simply not an accurate vision of my horn-self anymore.
When I was in junior high, I played on my school's volleyball team. My first year on the squad, I struggled with getting my serves in play and by the season-ending tournament, I was so in my head about serving that I switched to underhand serves (scorned like Dance Dance Revolution on the super slow setting). Over the summer before next year's try-outs, I practiced my serve against the wall of my house every afternoon. I must have served close to 2000 serves that month and I would go until I could hit 10 powerful, accurate, well-timed serves without missing. That second season, I was a changed pre-teen. I never missed a serve and became something of a clutch ace-hitter. But, every single time I had to serve, I would expect to fail. I would dread it, even picture the ball bouncing pitifully 6 feet in front of me, but somehow, miraculously, my newly-skilled muscle memory would take over, and the ball would sail over the net.
This is how I think about high horn playing. I struggled to play high horn for so many years of my life. It was my Achilles heel, the unwieldy psychological baggage I carried into every audition, the thing that I tried to deflect in lessons. But after many years of practice and horn therapy, I have
wrestled that demon to a TKO. By the end of school, I had a very passable high range and nowadays, it rarely is a problem in most any professional situation. Yet still, whenever I receive new music for a gig, I scan for "high notes." And tonight, I started practicing knowing that I'd focus on "high notes" with very low expectations. But when I started playing, my high notes were fine. They just sailed right over the net, thanks to my years of serving those high notes (many more than 2000) against the wall.
 |
| Get it, girl. |
Monday, February 2, 2015
Gauntlet thrown
This month, I am embarking on a practice blog challenge. Every day this month (not counting yesterday cuz, come on, that Super Bowl was not gonna hate-watch itself), I'm going to post a short blog entry related to that day's horn practice. I am calling it Focused February because I'd like to do just that: re-focus on what practicing means to me. I don't know if this will be of any interest to anyone besides myself, but hey I'm a Millennial, I do believe I'm entitled a modicum of cyber-narcissism. I don't even Tweet, so I'm granting myself this one month.
Day 1
Today was my first real day of practice in over a week. What that means is I'm out of shape, having only played concerts in school auditoriums at ungodly early hours for the past week and a half. Getting back into actual practice shape sucks a lot because I make excuses for myself so easily. Oh of course I can't play that phrase with flawless direction, I'm out of shape! I can't tongue cleanly in the middle register, I'm out of shape! I can't use good posture, I'm out of shape! Tonight I was reminded of something my teacher in grad school told me: Life is Suffering.
Perhaps he heard it from, I dunno, Buddha. He was an awfully nice man (my teacher, not Buddha, though probably both...), so that was a surprising sentiment coming from him. But what he told me, in the context of my whining during a lesson, was that this philosophy means that those times when your chops don't feel right are still times. Those are not outliers, those moments are just as true as the times when I sound amazing in the practice room. So don't give up on learning in those moments. And tonight, I didn't give up. I didn't sound good, but I learned something- my middle C is slightly higher than where I think it is. I know, mind-blowing, right??
Day 1
Perhaps he heard it from, I dunno, Buddha. He was an awfully nice man (my teacher, not Buddha, though probably both...), so that was a surprising sentiment coming from him. But what he told me, in the context of my whining during a lesson, was that this philosophy means that those times when your chops don't feel right are still times. Those are not outliers, those moments are just as true as the times when I sound amazing in the practice room. So don't give up on learning in those moments. And tonight, I didn't give up. I didn't sound good, but I learned something- my middle C is slightly higher than where I think it is. I know, mind-blowing, right??
Monday, January 12, 2015
Loud and Free
I am currently tackling the Matterhorn of horn matters- the Ligeti Horn Trio.
Or more accurately, it's tackling me.
Written in 1982, this piece just busts through the inside-voice notion of the horn in a chamber ensemble. It is raucous and rhythmically thumping; that is, when it's not austere and whispered. I have wanted to learn this piece for a long time so it's a real thrill now that I have a couple performances in the books. For 9 months from now, cuz that's how long it's gonna take for me to birth this Transylvanian baby. (Gyorgy Ligeti is Translyvanian; I'm not birthing Dracula...)
The coolest thing about the Ligeti Horn Trio is its use of natural harmonics in the horn part. While many of the melodies are tonal, many many more don't use the valves and instead require that the horn player slide around on natural partials, using just our air, our lips, and our fearless wits. Thus for the past week or so, I have lived au naturale- ripping these gnarly arpeggios that are so close to being "in tune" yet so far. The thing is, though, they ARE in tune. As in tune as you can get, according to physics. How most modern classical instrumentalists tune (somewhat equal tempered, to match the stalwart black and white piano) is really a long series of compromises so we can all play together in civilized musical society. The horn, though, is not quite so evolved a creature- the equivalent of a flatworm.
So we have had to bend up, down, and around to avoid these non "perfect" notes on our harmonic series.
Normally I only pass through to the normal notes (i.e. C, E, G, C) in my practice. But not this week. This week I've been stopping at every 9th, 11th, and 13th partial and savoring its strident, rustic flavor. It's certainly difficult to aim at these notes because they're unfamiliar, but I feel something loosening in my ear and in my heart when I just
let
the horn
go.
I'm allowing the horn to live in its native habitat, to eat the nuts, fruits, and berries it seems to crave.
Without getting too heavy-handed with the anthropomorphized metaphors, I am convinced that this piece will not only be good for my horn playing but for my psyche. As my best friend always tells me, "Just leave yourself alone." So I am. I'm leaving my (horn)self alone. We'll see what comes of it.
Or more accurately, it's tackling me.
 |
| The 90s Nickelodeon equivalent of the Matterhorn. |
The coolest thing about the Ligeti Horn Trio is its use of natural harmonics in the horn part. While many of the melodies are tonal, many many more don't use the valves and instead require that the horn player slide around on natural partials, using just our air, our lips, and our fearless wits. Thus for the past week or so, I have lived au naturale- ripping these gnarly arpeggios that are so close to being "in tune" yet so far. The thing is, though, they ARE in tune. As in tune as you can get, according to physics. How most modern classical instrumentalists tune (somewhat equal tempered, to match the stalwart black and white piano) is really a long series of compromises so we can all play together in civilized musical society. The horn, though, is not quite so evolved a creature- the equivalent of a flatworm.
 |
| But such jewel tones! |
Normally I only pass through to the normal notes (i.e. C, E, G, C) in my practice. But not this week. This week I've been stopping at every 9th, 11th, and 13th partial and savoring its strident, rustic flavor. It's certainly difficult to aim at these notes because they're unfamiliar, but I feel something loosening in my ear and in my heart when I just
let
the horn
go.
I'm allowing the horn to live in its native habitat, to eat the nuts, fruits, and berries it seems to crave.
Without getting too heavy-handed with the anthropomorphized metaphors, I am convinced that this piece will not only be good for my horn playing but for my psyche. As my best friend always tells me, "Just leave yourself alone." So I am. I'm leaving my (horn)self alone. We'll see what comes of it.
 |
| Apparently a "Frozen" gif. |
