Monthly Archive for December, 2005

The Nutcracker

Published
by
dtclarinet
on December 22, 2005
in Uncategorized
. 1 Comment

The now infamous score by Peter Tchaikovsky conjures many layers of memory and meaning for me. I’ve played it no less than 400 times. That’s not much compared to longer runs of Broadway shows, but it’s plenty for me. That’s around 20 times a year for 20 years. Plenty.

Luckily it’s a great score. Each number is vivid and colorful. There are no bad moments, although it IS ballet. And all classical ballet scores from that period contain appropriately corny themes and often repetitive material. It goes with the territory. But Peter T. imbues his lilting ballet themes with memorable melodies and meaningful repetition.

The clarinet part is well written, with a number of respectable solos, most notably in the famous Waltz of the Flowers, which fits like a glove onto the instrument’s tessitura. Other solos make good use the clarinet’s technical fluidity. As with all Tchaikovsky, the part has some challenges. Some runs are very awkward. But their use is clear and meaningful, and so the effort is worth it.

My first few years in the Kennedy Center Orchestra, when I was young and full of myself, I used to become bored by so many performances. To stay interested, I would add all sorts of extra notes, trills, runs, obligatos, counter melodies, harmonies, alternate octaves, etc. It was the David H. Thomas personal version. I had fun doing it, and no one seemed to mind. My colleagues, all seasoned players, were entertained, being bored themselves. Most of what I did fit into the music just fine, so the audience certainly never knew, unless of course they were Nutcracker experts!

When I arrived in Columbus, I played my version just as I had in Washington, DC. Unfortunately, one of my colleagues here, a certain flutist who has since moved away, complained about it to the music director. So he called me into his office and sat me down. He looked like a proud father. I was confused. He smiled at me and told me he understood my boredom and appreciated my creative spirit, and that we would someday play the Nutcracker in a concert version, but for now I should try to behave. Whew! So I behaved, for awhile. The flutist in question left town. (hey, it wasn’t me) But I never went back to goofing around quite so much. I guess I grew up a bit, and realized I had to consider the effects I had on my fellow musicians. I was getting old enough now to feel I needed to be an example of respectability. And I had no problem with that. It was a natural step.

These days I rarely fool around. Maybe the last show of a run, but hardly even then. The young players give me dirty looks when I do. Their loss.

I love playing the Nutcracker. Yes, it’s true. The clarinet part is satisfying and rewarding, both musically and technically. Over the years I’ve honed my interpretations to just the way I like it. Of course the way I like it may not be the way the conductor likes it, but I can usually find a happy middle ground. These days I use the numerous performances to refine my playing. I meditate while performing this piece. I take note of how my fingers move, how deep my support is. I notice the ideal tuning place for each note. I observe my embouchure. With all these things I try to notice how close to the ideal they are. And I use the advantage of another performance, and another, to correct and refine those basic techniques.

I’m not quite to the point of just sitting back and listening to the rich and colorful score while in performance. No, I still need to be in my body, focused and poised just so for each solo. Maybe someday I’ll dance right along with the sugar plum fairys as I play. I have something to look forward to.

Dorky Music

Published
by
dtclarinet
on December 14, 2005
in Uncategorized
. 1 Comment

As a working American orchestra, we in the Columbus Symphony have to do what ever is necessary to make a buck. Like anywhere in the world these days, the buck is not a lofty icon, and working for it is often not so lofty either.

Today we started rehearsals for our local production of Engelbert Humperdinck’s 1893 Hansel and Gretel, a mediocre but heartfelt opera based on the Grimm’s Fairy Tale. The idea is to present it as the operatic match for the perennial Nutcracker, which I’ve played at least 400 times in my career. (And which, I might add, is a jewelbox of perfect melodies and lush orchestration)

The composer’s name alone should give a hint as to how marvelously mundane his work is. There are a few resplendent moments in the music itself, interspersed with painfully lumpy, starchy stretches which ache for a good ironing.

As an experienced musician, even I am hard pressed to make sense of it, to flesh it out, rather than flush it, which I’d prefer. But that is in fact what I am paid to do, smooth out the wrinkles in this imitation polyester halloween costume of a regal Victorian comforter.

The orchestration is abominable. To give Humperdinck some credit, the reduced version we are performing sours what little is redeeming in the original, much larger orchestration. Perhaps it was arranged by a middle school band director. (no offence to their noble cause) All instruments seem to be playing all the time, with no relief for either the listener or the performer. Not only does it tax the strongest players to the point of dubious, fatigued technical output, but the balance within the orchestra is hampered. It’s difficult for a violin solo to be heard over a trumpet accompaniment. The problems of balance will be further antagonized by having to match childlike voices with so many instruments playing.

Harmonically I can give it credit for being somewhat appropriate for its period. It’s like a bad Victorian crazy quilt with lots of nice material which is horribly matched. Obviously Wagner’s influence features heavily in Humperdinck’s head, among other popular composers of his time. Some of it sounds like Wagner after a spicy Moroccan dinner, with several bottles of moldy wine. It heaves around from key to key, slobbering over each before stumbling to the next, with a wan smile on its face. It is difficult to tune and pharse elegantly under such duress. What little childish innocence is captured in the melody is ruptured abruptly by heavy footed harmonic density, or an inappropriate dissonance in the name of modernity. Before long, the smell of leaky diapers wafts up to meet the listener.

Don’t get me wrong. I think it will delight those mellow holiday revelers who can snuggle up with their children and smile at their good fortunes. They will bask in the warmth of the story and its one or two memorable scenes. And the music will somehow fit. Without anything to compare it to directly, it will sound appropriate, even fitting, though they will wonder why it’s a bit out of tune and perhaps a bit loud for the singers. But they will go home happy, I believe, that they have shared something artistic with the family, and that they have supported the arts. And they will be right. And I will do my professional best to make their money and time well spent.

Reeds

Published
by
dtclarinet
on December 7, 2005
in Clarinet
. 1 Comment

Reeds are our saviors. We can blame anything on them, thank goodness. “Oops, I squeaked! Oh well, that wasn’t a great reed after all.” Or, “Man, I can’t believe how much my reed’s changed since two hours ago. No wonder I’m having trouble with that run!” Oh yes, the weather is our second savior. From November through March we’re off the hook. No need to practice, since it wastes reed which could be saved for performances.

Kidding aside, we do struggle with those neurotic slivers of bamboo, thinner than finger nails. My students ask me how to “fix” them and I answer, “Try something. If it works, don’t expect it to work on the next reed, but it might. If it doesn’t work, it may work on the next reed, or not.” There, does that clarify things?

Now don’t go asking oboists what they think of clarinetists complaining about reeds! They have no idea how much energy it takes to order the boxes, open them, wet all the reeds, try them, and throw half away. It’s utter agony to throw away what was once a living thing! Ok, I’m being silly. The real problem clarinetists face is how little control we have over the finished reed, since we buy ours already made. Yes, we could make our own as oboists and bassoonists must, but that would take their drama away, so we suffer through the drudgery of opening boxes and making friends with reeds we hardly know.

I usually just slap them on the mouthpiece and blow. If it does something I like, I spend some time balancing the tip, which means shaving the thick parts to get the reed vibrating evenly. Then I usually put the poor water logged thing away to recover from surgery. I do this a few times, usually during breaks at rehearsals or while practicing work stuff at home. I almost never work on reeds without multitasking. After a few tries, the reed either begins to settle down and behave, or it loses my interest. I give reeds lots of leeway to improve. I experiment on dubious sounding reeds, sacrificing them in the name of science, sculpting them just to see what it does to their sound. Occasionally one will surprise me and return from the dead to become something I actually use in a real rehearsal or performance. So though I’m brutal with them, I give each one a fair chance.

A good reed is not a universal constant. One reed may work for one piece or concert, but will not for another type of music. A jazzy reed for the beginning of Rhapsodie in Blue may not work for the Mozart Symphony on the second half. Reeds are like wine, better drunk before their brief glory is faded with age. I don’t believe in saving reeds, putting them back for a rainy day. Each day my good reed might be a different one than the day before. I keep three or four top ones and six to eight others in rotation as any one time, while bringing a few dozen new ones into possible daily usage.