This week, we played a fantastic concert program: Weber’s Der Freischutz Overture, Rodrigo’s Concerto de Aranjuez, and Schumann’s third symphony. Even though our orchestra is not perfect, I really enjoyed playing such good music. We had a conductor from Austria who was very energetic, and who worked quite well with the orchestra. You have to have a good sense of humor to work well with the Sarajevo Philharmonic, because there is no better way to deal with some of the “strong personalities”.
Although the program was fun, it was also very challenging. It’s a good thing I like challenges! And it’s a good thing that our conductor took rather brisk tempos throughout. The first oboe part for Schumann’s third symphony is not terribly exposed, but it is very tiring. My longest rest in the entire work is only eight measures. I cannot even think of another orchestral piece that doesn’t give the oboe players at least a dozen measures to rest at some point. I’m not sure that Schumann knew how hard it is for oboists to play for long periods of time without muscle fatigue and/or lack of oxygen to the brain. His Drei Romanzen, for oboe and piano, are notorious for testing the endurance of the world’s best players. If he didn’t write such incredibly beautiful melodies and creative harmonies, I would hate to play Schumann. But I can’t help but love it. It’s even better to listen, without having to play, haha.
I was also asked to play the English horn solo for the Rodrigo Guitar Concerto. It’s a very long, expressive, and important solo, and on top of that, I get a little emotional around the classical guitar this year, being away from Ross. But this week, I had to distance myself and maintain my composure.
I found it pretty easy to stay focused on my English horn playing, because there is so much to think about. I haven’t played the instrument very often in the past two years, so I am not entirely comfortable with it. I play the oboe so much that I can physically feel when the notes are in tune. I can even feel whether I am at 440 or 442. I can also quickly test out an oboe reed and learn it’s tone color, volume range, and how it will respond to my air and articulation. If it’s not right, I can usually fix it. On the other hand, playing English horn, for me, is like shooting in the dark. (Pardon the uncreative analogy.) I can’t really feel whether I’m in tune, so I have to listen harder, and check with my machine. I don’t really know what tone color I want to achieve, and I am a little uncertain about how to fix my reeds. In the past, I have had a lot of success playing English horn in music school, but I think that it’s mainly due to having professional English hornists as my private teachers. I miss being coddled by them, but I really want to make them proud, so I did the best I could do this week.
I don’t think that most audience members realize that when classical musicians perform, they have to think of so many minute details that our “emotional” performances are the result of being hyper-analytical. For example, if I want something to sound “yearning”, I have to find all of the “tendency tones” and add some extra sound and vibrato to highlight their importance. Then I have to balance them so there is a logical progression between strong and weak. I could literally spend hours assessing how I want to play each and every note.
Despite all of this, I’ve found if I practice enough, I like to step back and think about the bigger picture when I perform. It helps stop me from dwelling on anything that doesn’t go as planned, and move forward. So, I’ve found it useful to think of a picture, emotion, or story that inspires me. Often, classical music is “programmatic”, meaning that the composer already has a non-musical idea in mind when he wrote the piece. I like playing programmatic pieces, because I’m not always very good at finding an extra-musical inspiration on my own.
The second movement of the Rodrigo Concerto is not precisely programmatic. But, as my friend Adi reminded me, there is a story behind its composition. Rodrigo wrote the piece in response to his wife’s miscarriage. For me, miscarriage is a little bit too heavy of a topic to think about when trying to play a long English horn solo. But I was inspired to approach it as a sort of melancholic lullaby. I hope it came across, even though I had a few problems with my intonation and legato. The great thing about playing here is that I have a lot of supportive colleagues, who are generous with their compliments after concerts. It’s always nice to be complimented, and to feel proud for a few moments instead of always being insecure.
So maybe I got a little bit too technical about music for my non-musician readers, and maybe I rambled on a little bit too long about philosophy. But that’s what you get for reading the blog of someone who double-majored in music and philosophy J
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