Concert #2: Wood-n't it be nice
This week, I will be playing the part of piccolo.
Actually, when the early arrivers to band saw me a chair over than normal, I got questioned, then said I was playing the part of (piccolo player's name), which got a chuckle. She's a recently retired teacher who does this annual test-grading thing, which I don't fully understand, but she enjoys it so what the heck. But it means she misses at least one concert, so somebody has to sub. If you recall, I got asked by the main sub if I wanted to do it, since she's getting tired of it and, frankly, losing her hearing in her right ear. Plus, I always keep at least my marching piccolo on me, so I can do it in a pinch. The second sub, who I've heard is a wonderful piccolo player in her own right, has had some job upheavals and can't always get to band as early as she'd like, so, while I'm not sure she ever was consulted about this, she is gracious and wouldn't necessarily let on if she was disappointed about my doing it or not. I feel bad for her in some ways, but at the same time the actual picc player said she was going to consult with the section leader about the situation and the next thing I knew, I was being handed the folder.
It was kind of exciting to have custody of the folder, especially since we'd done one of my all-time favorite songs recently and it's still in the folder. As it was done with a guest conductor, who will be meeting us in Texas, I know we'll be doing it again. So I got a copy of that, plus the hard Russian piece we're *not* doing in Texas, as well as the warm-up book of Bach chorales since that's different. Otherwise I stuck with only the music for this week's and next week's concerts, because the rest of it wasn't that interesting to me. When I'd first joined the band--and wasn't sure how soon it would be before I got my hot little hands on said folder--I probably would have copied it all. But a lot of it is the same as the flute parts I have, or not different enough to matter, or I simply don't care enough for the music to want my own copies. At least the music this time is worth my having it.
I was looking forward to the music for this week because I knew there were a few solos involved. However, then Wednesday came along. Because I was using my good, wood piccolo, I didn't want to go walking--wood is temperamental, and I didn't want to leave it in the car. Besides, it was supposed to be hot and humid. Wednesday was our first 90F day this year and the hottest day in a couple years, I think I heard. So, I went to Target and wandered around for a while, carrying my flute bag with me, since I did have a few errands to run anyway. Believe me, that was enough of a workout. I finished with over an hour to go, but by that time a front had started to work its way through and I ended up sitting in my car with the windows open and hearing distant rumbles of thunder. I guess a thin but powerful band was working its way through the southern portion of Chicagoland. I kept waiting for the rain but it never showed. When I finally went to rehearsal, I was the only band member there; the only other person was one of the sound guys walking around testing things. Okay, let's try some high notes--the second song hits the top of the picc's range. Okay, cool, they came out. Except my mistake was not keeping on with it. I really should have been warming up in a more proper fashion; instead, I mainly fingered through everything. That was probably half of it. And then, to the collective groan of the band, we did in fact raise the door, meaning the lovely air conditioning that kept us comfortable was now just a memory. And, well, that meant anything involving wood went kablooey. Our first oboe, who normally sounds lovely, had a major squeak during a solo. The clarinets were having issues. I just could not figure out how to stay in tune--and that's when my lips were cooperating at all. I mean, part of the reason to have a piccolo is to have the higher notes dancing atop the rest of the band. I couldn't get much out above an F. That's...sort of middling, really. I mean, I got out that high C in the tough piece, but it was only the second number. We do about a dozen. I didn't think how I did was pretty and was disappointed in it, but at least it was just the rehearsal. Also, that second song, the picc part is vastly different than the flute part, and it also feels like it's in 2 or 3 when it's written in 4, so I really had to count like mad. I did miss a couple spots, or came in later than I should have, but for the most part it was fine. I was sitting next to the Eb clarinet player and she was saying I did okay, since her part has cues for the picc in it and, since she was on maternity leave when we first did the piece, she was using the cues to help her keep her place. She also reminded me that I should listen and try to tune with the brass instruments, since the clarinets tend to be out of tune to them. However, to me the tessitura of the clarinets is closer to that of the piccolo, and they're what I'm hearing, not the brass, so I was still trying to match them.
Okay. Thursday. The forecast was to be ten degrees cooler than Wednesday, and potentially rainy, plus there were some things I couldn't find at Target, so I found Walmart instead. This was a new Walmart (literally; I'd gone to a shopping center for something else a few months back and went, hey, where'd Walmart go? Well...it's about a mile south of where it used to be, and now I know where it is), so I wandered much of the store. It took a while. I found things I didn't know I needed (hello, new headbands), that I'd wanted but hadn't found elsewhere (an arm sling, for when my bad arm needs a rest), and that I'd been thinking about getting and just happened to wander past but otherwise hadn't written down that I should buy it (a Brita pitcher for when I go to camp--I'm always at the nurse's office using hers, and now I can keep this one in the staff house...and it's red!). A couple hours later when I went back to my car, I realized it was chilly! It was probably 20 degrees cooler than the day before and less humid, though the air still had moisture in it. I ended up staying in the parking lot to eat my dinner since by then it was rush hour. I actually had to roll up my windows because it was so chilly, between the moist air and the cool breeze. By the time I got to the concert center, I was happy to put pants on; I'd gotten changed into shorts after work.
I made sure to warm up better on Thursday--there was no way I'd wanted to go into the concert like I had the warm-up. It worked out. Plus, both the Eb player and the section leader came and said I'd sounded good the night before, but I needed to play out. The section leader said I had a pure sound, and the Eb player said I played piccolo like I played flute, I guess meaning more lyrically and just treating it differently. They're both band directors, and the Eb player gave me some suggestions, the sort of stuff I know but when you're nervous, you forget. It's hard to believe that I used to do this regularly, but it's been 15 years now. However, what they said gave me confidence, and I think I got better as the night went on. There had also been a wrench thrown at us. One song originally planned for the night was pushed back a couple concerts, and another one from that concert was moved up. I think part of it had to do with a potential soloist, who was one of the walking wounded and needed a little more time to heal. Yeah...so, that meant I had to play a song I'd only ever played once before, and on a different part...AND there were two little solos in there. I mean, they were completely doable, even with not-great conditions, but it's still not ideal. I would have liked to practice, especially since it was a medley with a jazz component and the picc part was different than the flute part I'd had. There was one measure I missed both during the rehearsal and the concert, but oh well. I got the solos okay, and after the rehearsal I was told by the director that I could bring out the second solo, which is at the very end and is more a soli with the oboe; only a handful of other instruments are even playing, and they're soft and low at that. Yeah...didn't know it was coming, but I can do that. It worked out. I think overall it went okay, bordering on good.
What wasn't so good: The weather. It started raining in the middle of the second piece, so in the middle of frantically counting measures I was watching all these umbrellas open simultaneously in the audience; it continued almost for the rest of the concert. And, because we knew the rain was coming, we actually started early. However, nobody told us we were starting early--the doors just started opening. People were still tuning and talking and the doors seemed like they were higher up than normal before the percussion section did their opening bit. (We have a particular song we do to start, and the bass drum, I believe, or possibly a timpani starts us off.) Our poor first oboe--she comes in from the city and had arrived with about 15 minutes to spare, or so she thought; the next thing I know, the door starts beeping to signal it's moving and she comes rushing out from the side, still fixing her shirt, and someone near her starts adjusting her collar; she'd made it just in time. It was awkward, but it worked out, much like the rest of the concert. And, well, it meant we ended early, which is never a bad thing in my book.
Actually, when the early arrivers to band saw me a chair over than normal, I got questioned, then said I was playing the part of (piccolo player's name), which got a chuckle. She's a recently retired teacher who does this annual test-grading thing, which I don't fully understand, but she enjoys it so what the heck. But it means she misses at least one concert, so somebody has to sub. If you recall, I got asked by the main sub if I wanted to do it, since she's getting tired of it and, frankly, losing her hearing in her right ear. Plus, I always keep at least my marching piccolo on me, so I can do it in a pinch. The second sub, who I've heard is a wonderful piccolo player in her own right, has had some job upheavals and can't always get to band as early as she'd like, so, while I'm not sure she ever was consulted about this, she is gracious and wouldn't necessarily let on if she was disappointed about my doing it or not. I feel bad for her in some ways, but at the same time the actual picc player said she was going to consult with the section leader about the situation and the next thing I knew, I was being handed the folder.
It was kind of exciting to have custody of the folder, especially since we'd done one of my all-time favorite songs recently and it's still in the folder. As it was done with a guest conductor, who will be meeting us in Texas, I know we'll be doing it again. So I got a copy of that, plus the hard Russian piece we're *not* doing in Texas, as well as the warm-up book of Bach chorales since that's different. Otherwise I stuck with only the music for this week's and next week's concerts, because the rest of it wasn't that interesting to me. When I'd first joined the band--and wasn't sure how soon it would be before I got my hot little hands on said folder--I probably would have copied it all. But a lot of it is the same as the flute parts I have, or not different enough to matter, or I simply don't care enough for the music to want my own copies. At least the music this time is worth my having it.
I was looking forward to the music for this week because I knew there were a few solos involved. However, then Wednesday came along. Because I was using my good, wood piccolo, I didn't want to go walking--wood is temperamental, and I didn't want to leave it in the car. Besides, it was supposed to be hot and humid. Wednesday was our first 90F day this year and the hottest day in a couple years, I think I heard. So, I went to Target and wandered around for a while, carrying my flute bag with me, since I did have a few errands to run anyway. Believe me, that was enough of a workout. I finished with over an hour to go, but by that time a front had started to work its way through and I ended up sitting in my car with the windows open and hearing distant rumbles of thunder. I guess a thin but powerful band was working its way through the southern portion of Chicagoland. I kept waiting for the rain but it never showed. When I finally went to rehearsal, I was the only band member there; the only other person was one of the sound guys walking around testing things. Okay, let's try some high notes--the second song hits the top of the picc's range. Okay, cool, they came out. Except my mistake was not keeping on with it. I really should have been warming up in a more proper fashion; instead, I mainly fingered through everything. That was probably half of it. And then, to the collective groan of the band, we did in fact raise the door, meaning the lovely air conditioning that kept us comfortable was now just a memory. And, well, that meant anything involving wood went kablooey. Our first oboe, who normally sounds lovely, had a major squeak during a solo. The clarinets were having issues. I just could not figure out how to stay in tune--and that's when my lips were cooperating at all. I mean, part of the reason to have a piccolo is to have the higher notes dancing atop the rest of the band. I couldn't get much out above an F. That's...sort of middling, really. I mean, I got out that high C in the tough piece, but it was only the second number. We do about a dozen. I didn't think how I did was pretty and was disappointed in it, but at least it was just the rehearsal. Also, that second song, the picc part is vastly different than the flute part, and it also feels like it's in 2 or 3 when it's written in 4, so I really had to count like mad. I did miss a couple spots, or came in later than I should have, but for the most part it was fine. I was sitting next to the Eb clarinet player and she was saying I did okay, since her part has cues for the picc in it and, since she was on maternity leave when we first did the piece, she was using the cues to help her keep her place. She also reminded me that I should listen and try to tune with the brass instruments, since the clarinets tend to be out of tune to them. However, to me the tessitura of the clarinets is closer to that of the piccolo, and they're what I'm hearing, not the brass, so I was still trying to match them.
Okay. Thursday. The forecast was to be ten degrees cooler than Wednesday, and potentially rainy, plus there were some things I couldn't find at Target, so I found Walmart instead. This was a new Walmart (literally; I'd gone to a shopping center for something else a few months back and went, hey, where'd Walmart go? Well...it's about a mile south of where it used to be, and now I know where it is), so I wandered much of the store. It took a while. I found things I didn't know I needed (hello, new headbands), that I'd wanted but hadn't found elsewhere (an arm sling, for when my bad arm needs a rest), and that I'd been thinking about getting and just happened to wander past but otherwise hadn't written down that I should buy it (a Brita pitcher for when I go to camp--I'm always at the nurse's office using hers, and now I can keep this one in the staff house...and it's red!). A couple hours later when I went back to my car, I realized it was chilly! It was probably 20 degrees cooler than the day before and less humid, though the air still had moisture in it. I ended up staying in the parking lot to eat my dinner since by then it was rush hour. I actually had to roll up my windows because it was so chilly, between the moist air and the cool breeze. By the time I got to the concert center, I was happy to put pants on; I'd gotten changed into shorts after work.
I made sure to warm up better on Thursday--there was no way I'd wanted to go into the concert like I had the warm-up. It worked out. Plus, both the Eb player and the section leader came and said I'd sounded good the night before, but I needed to play out. The section leader said I had a pure sound, and the Eb player said I played piccolo like I played flute, I guess meaning more lyrically and just treating it differently. They're both band directors, and the Eb player gave me some suggestions, the sort of stuff I know but when you're nervous, you forget. It's hard to believe that I used to do this regularly, but it's been 15 years now. However, what they said gave me confidence, and I think I got better as the night went on. There had also been a wrench thrown at us. One song originally planned for the night was pushed back a couple concerts, and another one from that concert was moved up. I think part of it had to do with a potential soloist, who was one of the walking wounded and needed a little more time to heal. Yeah...so, that meant I had to play a song I'd only ever played once before, and on a different part...AND there were two little solos in there. I mean, they were completely doable, even with not-great conditions, but it's still not ideal. I would have liked to practice, especially since it was a medley with a jazz component and the picc part was different than the flute part I'd had. There was one measure I missed both during the rehearsal and the concert, but oh well. I got the solos okay, and after the rehearsal I was told by the director that I could bring out the second solo, which is at the very end and is more a soli with the oboe; only a handful of other instruments are even playing, and they're soft and low at that. Yeah...didn't know it was coming, but I can do that. It worked out. I think overall it went okay, bordering on good.
What wasn't so good: The weather. It started raining in the middle of the second piece, so in the middle of frantically counting measures I was watching all these umbrellas open simultaneously in the audience; it continued almost for the rest of the concert. And, because we knew the rain was coming, we actually started early. However, nobody told us we were starting early--the doors just started opening. People were still tuning and talking and the doors seemed like they were higher up than normal before the percussion section did their opening bit. (We have a particular song we do to start, and the bass drum, I believe, or possibly a timpani starts us off.) Our poor first oboe--she comes in from the city and had arrived with about 15 minutes to spare, or so she thought; the next thing I know, the door starts beeping to signal it's moving and she comes rushing out from the side, still fixing her shirt, and someone near her starts adjusting her collar; she'd made it just in time. It was awkward, but it worked out, much like the rest of the concert. And, well, it meant we ended early, which is never a bad thing in my book.