Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Horn Diary


Last Sunday I played horn in a performance of Fauré's Requiem and it went well. While a couple of attacks weren't as clean as they might have been, some notes weren't held as long as they should have been, and some slurs had a bit more color than the score asked for - there were no wrong notes. There's not really that much horn music in the piece, so I'd memorized all the bits and pieces and was able to blend with and help shape the sound of the chorus. 

The only other instruments were strings, including harp and piano. I ended up standing behind the chorus with all the other instruments down front. The bell of my horn was pointing right at a corner of the sanctuary, the walls of which are brick and only a couple of feet from the horn. That had the effect of broadcasting the sound throughout the space in a wonderful way. Sort of let the welkin ring.

The other thing about standing behind the chorus was that I felt much freer putting some body english on some of those lovely sighing pianissimos. From years of playing guitar and singing in front of groups, I tend to dance and move with the rhythms, which just looks wrong with something like the Fauré. Being hidden from the audience let me not worry about that.

After the performance I got a number of enthusiastic comments on my playing from some of the best musicians present. I feel I can now lay claim to being an adequate small town amateur horn player.

Part of the reason things went so well was due to my emotional involvement with the piece. Over the past year a number of us have been all up close and personal with death and dying. In particular, the chorus director lost his wife, who was also the best choral accompanist I've ever heard, and though unspoken, this requiem was for her. I was basically in an altered state for the whole performance and for hours afterwards. There was all the busy technical stuff flying though my head, but there were also deep feelings coming up from my heart and finding expression in the sound of the horn. I've never before participated in such high level music with that sort of deep emotional expression. And the thing about the horn is, no other instrument, including my voice, allows me to tap so deeply into that well of what being human is all about.

4 comments:

  1. I was basically in an altered state for the whole performance and for hours afterwards. There was all the busy technical stuff flying though my head, but there were also deep feelings coming up from my heart and finding expression in the sound of the horn. I've never before participated in such high level music with that sort of deep emotional expression.

    That's "flow". Wonderful when it happens!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks, Jonathan! - Sort of embarrassed to say the penny hadn't dropped that that's what it was, even though I've posted on "flow".

    Also, thanks for all the horn help over the past couple of years, especially for giving the example and the encouragement to play "off the leg". Jeff Smiley uses the phrase, "the final piece of the puzzle" when talking about how playing the instrument all comes together sometimes with just one adjustment that potentiates and connects everything else you're doing. My starting to play off the leg was that for me.

    Your other blog sure has gotten interesting here lately. Keep up the good work! I almost (but not quite) pity the people taking you on, not realizing what they're tangling with.

    ReplyDelete
  3. It doesn't happen that often. The number of times I've got into that state in a performance is probably a dozen or less, out of all the hundreds of concerts I've played in my life.

    One of the reasons I keep playing music is to get the chance to experience it again.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Jonathan - Thanks so much for that comment. Very thought provoking. If I can focus those thoughts, will do another post in response.

    ReplyDelete