Fancy Band: The squeaky recording session
The cycle 3 recording session does not have a good track record. We'd had to cancel last year's due to snowy weather; this year wasn't looking much better. It wasn't so much snow as ice that could potentially put the kibosh on things, but I kept checking my phone--because I could!--and I never saw an email about band. Well, at least I don't have far to go...
It seemed like almost everyone was there--almost. We had a key person missing that, I don't want to say caused a bit of consternation, but definitely was noticeable. Big clarinet player T had a conflict and had to miss about half the recording session. Dr. K totally noticed and there was a point where he was stopping and going, something's wrong here, what's the issue? And finally he realized, oh, it's T! He's not here! It's sort of like when you're cooking and are missing a particular spice: What you're getting isn't bad, but the missing ingredient adds a subtle something to what you have. After the particular song we were doing, we got a bathroom break and I spotted T prepping an instrument in the hall and was like, you're here! We missed you! And when band restarted, Dr. K even commented on him joining us. His part is such that it sounds like they're going to record him separately and try to splice him into the band recording. He's that important to the recipe, as it were.
Dr. K was in a pretty good mood last night. We did have our listening ears out in the audience again. I actually liked it last time when she wasn't there, because it forced Dr. K to rely on his own judgment for things. I really dislike it when he's turned his head to look at her while he's actively conducting, like he's hearing something that's not right but waiting to see if she thinks the same thing. ("She" is one of the lesson teachers who is also part of the overarching band board. She's been around for decades. She was one of the people for whom I'd perform juries back in the day.) As much as I wish she wasn't there, purely for the whole appearing insecure about our sound deal, she does point things out balance-wise. It's like artwork: Things look, and in this case sound, a lot differently when you're up close and personal with it versus stepping back and viewing it from a distance. Our listening ears person has her own orchestra so she knows what to listen for and she does give good feedback, like when our English horn player was getting drowned out by the other instruments. Her one note in question wasn't exactly a solo in a particular measure, but it needed to be heard as it went into the next measure, which was more soloistic. Same thing in the Peruvian piece, where the flutes were too loud in a quiet section; the harp couldn't be heard. That was impressive to me because I could hear her just fine across the stage from me, but again it's different when you're out in the audience. We worked on being quieter, but we ended up needing to cut out some of the flutes. This actually ended up in a magnanimous sort of way with the 2nd flutes; C and I are one-per-part where the 2nd part splits earlier in the piece, and now NBH and E got to take this section, so all four of us have at least a duet. That was kind of cool. I voluntarily bowed out as I was having some issues last night.
So, full disclosure, I've had a cold all week. It's been a long time since I've had one and, let me tell you, I've not missed having one. I was kind of concerned about the recording session since normally I wouldn't wear a mask to it (I'm more comfortable in the open concert hall than the sardine-can-like rehearsal room), but if I'm not well, then I really should wear one, right? I feel like I've started the downswing, thankfully, and Dayquil kept my running nose in check. I still planned on keeping the mask on the whole time. And then came the first song in the session, the small group piece I'm on, and when we got to the chorale portion of it, we kept having to go back to the quiet flute entrance there because I couldn't make a sound. I don't know what was going on because I've not had issues playing with the mask on in prior rehearsals, and my lip situation is much much better, but it wasn't happening last night. I ended up pulling it down there, and then the next piece was the Peruvian one where I have the duet part, which I'd been told to play louder last week (2nd flute was called out, but not top or bottom--probably both of us since W on the 1st part stands out just in general there), and after that I ended up just taking it off entirely. It helped that a solid third, possibly half, of the band was making hacking and coughing and sniffling sounds. Guess I won't worry about passing my germs if they're already sick themselves! Even our listening ears out in the audience would blow her nose during breaks in the session. I saw her later and she assured me it was a sinus thing, not a cold. No worries.
Other random bits...When we went to sit down, we discovered that whoever set up the second row apparently thinks we have no legs. The chairs and stands were practically on top of the first row. I especially felt bad for the oboes and English horn as their chairs were the smushiest. (Our listening ears also gave a shout-out to the English horn; we kept having to go back to a solo of hers and she nailed it each time.) I...was not in a nailing mood last night. Perhaps it was the Dayquil. I just was not on top of my game. Not that I usually am, heh, but I felt dippier than usual, and I felt like I couldn't hear as well, which is weird because it's not like my ears have been stuffed up. I was just glad to look around me and discover no microphone nearby. Hooray! In past sessions it's been like right over my head. No pressure. Speaking of pressure, it turns out when you apply, say, the weight of a grown man to the back end of the conductor's podium, it will squeak. At least, that's what happened to the podium last night. I had to point it out to him when we got to a quiet part of the Peruvian piece, because he was leaning back while he conducted and I'm quite certain the podium squeaking was picked up on the recording. Dr. K was like, okay, I'll assume the position; he then spread his feet to either side of the middle of the podium, then went, my job is so weird. (Honey...it's not the job that's weird...) I noticed that the front part of the podium was quiet and said to him, would you be able to move it back? He pushed it maybe a foot back on the stage and that seemed to work. He asked me to remind him about that for the concert.
We ended up not doing two of our pieces, the suite and the other small-group piece. I think he said last week that the other small-group piece would be the first one cut if necessary; he opted out of the suite because it pretty much plays itself, he said. We'll have a chance to record both during the dress rehearsal next week in addition to the concert. We had to cut the suite because the mountain song took FOREVER. There was an issue with the percussion section that just wasn't able to be resolved, centering on the snare drum. It just wasn't producing the sound Dr. K was expecting, and he and our listening ears also commented that the percussion section as a whole sounded completely different from how it normally sounds in the concert hall, just sort of dead. Normally it's very alive and almost too much. It was weird and frustrating, especially since we played the same part of the piece multiple times and it just wasn't changing. It was a relief to finally move on. After the session, the player came up to talk to Dr. K; there could also be a reason on the player's end that things weren't quite where they were supposed to be. (I know what it is but that's not my place to say.) Related, it was kind of bizarre that only now, at the recording session a week before our concert, six weeks into practicing this music, that people were only just asking questions about notes and accidentals. Seriously? You should be asking this by the second week if not before! And we also had a funky chord in the trumpets in one place. I honestly think someone was just having a brain fart because I do not recall hearing that chord played so badly in the past. I don't know if it's just the acoustics in the room that play things up or what, but stuff was sounding differently than usual. Or everyone was just hopped up on Dayquil and loopy. On the plus side, we did record the march and it was a one-and-done situation. That was the last piece of the night, where we'd just spent like an hour on the mountain piece, so to blow through that in about five minutes was pretty awesome. That meant we actually ended a little early, phew.
Before I left, I wanted to stop by Dr. K's office to give him something...again. I had something for him last week, and as we walked to his office he went, is it chocolate?! No, dude, it's not chocolate. But that led me to text him the next day, so, what chocolate do you like? He didn't answer, but at solo contest on Saturday I ended up getting gifted a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates, and when I sent him a picture and asked, do you like these? His reply was an emphatic yes. I knew better than to give him chocolate before rehearsal--sugar and caffeine are bad, yo--but before I could get to him, the listening ears person went into his office and closed the door. Crap. Guess I will hang around a bit. Oddly enough, I don't even recall what I was doing during that time; maybe I went to the bathroom? I talked to people? Seriously, I'm drawing a blank. Oh, I spotted J the trumpet player and we had a conversation. I got to tell him that the mystery of the high pitch at Regular Band got solved. I also know he's going on a trip to Ireland this spring, and it turns out it's during the time when the Regular Band spring concert was scheduled, but since that was canceled he won't be missing anything important. Well, that worked out.
Eventually the door opened, and while they were still talking for another minute or two, I was able to open my bag to a very excited Dr. K--he was like, shut up! ...Dude, I'm not giving you the whole container, but you're welcome to a few of them. J actually ended up with the first one, and Dr. K took a couple, then I started offering them to other people left in the hallway. M the tuba player (formerly also the bass player, but someone else is playing bass for us now) was talking to Dr. K about meeting up afterward. It sounds like the band has a new meet-up spot. It used to be the Irish pub across the street, but now it's a different place, I think one that serves food and drink. The pub's kitchen must close at 9, I think I've heard. Regardless, not my thing. Anyway, in talking to Dr. K about chocolates, he made a comment about Junior Mints, basically quoting Seinfeld; I said something like, just don't eat them while watching surgery. He was highly amused that I caught his reference and gave me a fist bump. Big clarinet T was nearby and he and I started having a conversation--I think he was too young to watch the show when it was first-run, and he doesn't watch the reruns, so about all he knows from it is the Soup Nazi. Not only did my dad and I watch it back in the day, and we quote a couple things from it, the manager at work is a Seinfeld aficionado and quotes it at least once a week. (Dr. K was like, now that I know this about you, I'm going to quote it more often! Great. These pretzels are making me thirsty.)
I left soon after that and got greeted by a white-coated world. Oh, boo. It had been raining and sleeting earlier in the day, so that things were wet and a bit slick when I got to band, but now everything was snowy with a layer of ice under it. Nothing like riding home in that sort of situation. It actually wasn't that bad save for Fabyan Parkway once I got into Kane County; this idiot in a truck decided to drive normally, i.e., like a dumbass, and zoomed out of a cross street into the outer westbound lane (I was in the inner lane). It's bad enough if you do that when the roads are dry. When they're slippery, that's asking for trouble, and almost immediately the guy started fishtailing. It didn't help that, since it's a somewhat open area, the snow was blowing and that lane wasn't clear. Like, do you have a brain, and could you please use it? I'm just glad I was far enough back when he pulled onto the street that I was able to slow down in plenty of time to avoid the guy, because he was all over the place in his lane, and I purposely didn't want to try to pass him for fear he'd hit a slick spot and slam into me. Dude never caught on that he shouldn't try to go above 40 MPH and should just relax. I was very thankful he turned right onto Kirk once we got up there--and immediately turned too fast and fishtailed again. Definition of insanely stupid there. But I got home safely.
It seemed like almost everyone was there--almost. We had a key person missing that, I don't want to say caused a bit of consternation, but definitely was noticeable. Big clarinet player T had a conflict and had to miss about half the recording session. Dr. K totally noticed and there was a point where he was stopping and going, something's wrong here, what's the issue? And finally he realized, oh, it's T! He's not here! It's sort of like when you're cooking and are missing a particular spice: What you're getting isn't bad, but the missing ingredient adds a subtle something to what you have. After the particular song we were doing, we got a bathroom break and I spotted T prepping an instrument in the hall and was like, you're here! We missed you! And when band restarted, Dr. K even commented on him joining us. His part is such that it sounds like they're going to record him separately and try to splice him into the band recording. He's that important to the recipe, as it were.
Dr. K was in a pretty good mood last night. We did have our listening ears out in the audience again. I actually liked it last time when she wasn't there, because it forced Dr. K to rely on his own judgment for things. I really dislike it when he's turned his head to look at her while he's actively conducting, like he's hearing something that's not right but waiting to see if she thinks the same thing. ("She" is one of the lesson teachers who is also part of the overarching band board. She's been around for decades. She was one of the people for whom I'd perform juries back in the day.) As much as I wish she wasn't there, purely for the whole appearing insecure about our sound deal, she does point things out balance-wise. It's like artwork: Things look, and in this case sound, a lot differently when you're up close and personal with it versus stepping back and viewing it from a distance. Our listening ears person has her own orchestra so she knows what to listen for and she does give good feedback, like when our English horn player was getting drowned out by the other instruments. Her one note in question wasn't exactly a solo in a particular measure, but it needed to be heard as it went into the next measure, which was more soloistic. Same thing in the Peruvian piece, where the flutes were too loud in a quiet section; the harp couldn't be heard. That was impressive to me because I could hear her just fine across the stage from me, but again it's different when you're out in the audience. We worked on being quieter, but we ended up needing to cut out some of the flutes. This actually ended up in a magnanimous sort of way with the 2nd flutes; C and I are one-per-part where the 2nd part splits earlier in the piece, and now NBH and E got to take this section, so all four of us have at least a duet. That was kind of cool. I voluntarily bowed out as I was having some issues last night.
So, full disclosure, I've had a cold all week. It's been a long time since I've had one and, let me tell you, I've not missed having one. I was kind of concerned about the recording session since normally I wouldn't wear a mask to it (I'm more comfortable in the open concert hall than the sardine-can-like rehearsal room), but if I'm not well, then I really should wear one, right? I feel like I've started the downswing, thankfully, and Dayquil kept my running nose in check. I still planned on keeping the mask on the whole time. And then came the first song in the session, the small group piece I'm on, and when we got to the chorale portion of it, we kept having to go back to the quiet flute entrance there because I couldn't make a sound. I don't know what was going on because I've not had issues playing with the mask on in prior rehearsals, and my lip situation is much much better, but it wasn't happening last night. I ended up pulling it down there, and then the next piece was the Peruvian one where I have the duet part, which I'd been told to play louder last week (2nd flute was called out, but not top or bottom--probably both of us since W on the 1st part stands out just in general there), and after that I ended up just taking it off entirely. It helped that a solid third, possibly half, of the band was making hacking and coughing and sniffling sounds. Guess I won't worry about passing my germs if they're already sick themselves! Even our listening ears out in the audience would blow her nose during breaks in the session. I saw her later and she assured me it was a sinus thing, not a cold. No worries.
Other random bits...When we went to sit down, we discovered that whoever set up the second row apparently thinks we have no legs. The chairs and stands were practically on top of the first row. I especially felt bad for the oboes and English horn as their chairs were the smushiest. (Our listening ears also gave a shout-out to the English horn; we kept having to go back to a solo of hers and she nailed it each time.) I...was not in a nailing mood last night. Perhaps it was the Dayquil. I just was not on top of my game. Not that I usually am, heh, but I felt dippier than usual, and I felt like I couldn't hear as well, which is weird because it's not like my ears have been stuffed up. I was just glad to look around me and discover no microphone nearby. Hooray! In past sessions it's been like right over my head. No pressure. Speaking of pressure, it turns out when you apply, say, the weight of a grown man to the back end of the conductor's podium, it will squeak. At least, that's what happened to the podium last night. I had to point it out to him when we got to a quiet part of the Peruvian piece, because he was leaning back while he conducted and I'm quite certain the podium squeaking was picked up on the recording. Dr. K was like, okay, I'll assume the position; he then spread his feet to either side of the middle of the podium, then went, my job is so weird. (Honey...it's not the job that's weird...) I noticed that the front part of the podium was quiet and said to him, would you be able to move it back? He pushed it maybe a foot back on the stage and that seemed to work. He asked me to remind him about that for the concert.
We ended up not doing two of our pieces, the suite and the other small-group piece. I think he said last week that the other small-group piece would be the first one cut if necessary; he opted out of the suite because it pretty much plays itself, he said. We'll have a chance to record both during the dress rehearsal next week in addition to the concert. We had to cut the suite because the mountain song took FOREVER. There was an issue with the percussion section that just wasn't able to be resolved, centering on the snare drum. It just wasn't producing the sound Dr. K was expecting, and he and our listening ears also commented that the percussion section as a whole sounded completely different from how it normally sounds in the concert hall, just sort of dead. Normally it's very alive and almost too much. It was weird and frustrating, especially since we played the same part of the piece multiple times and it just wasn't changing. It was a relief to finally move on. After the session, the player came up to talk to Dr. K; there could also be a reason on the player's end that things weren't quite where they were supposed to be. (I know what it is but that's not my place to say.) Related, it was kind of bizarre that only now, at the recording session a week before our concert, six weeks into practicing this music, that people were only just asking questions about notes and accidentals. Seriously? You should be asking this by the second week if not before! And we also had a funky chord in the trumpets in one place. I honestly think someone was just having a brain fart because I do not recall hearing that chord played so badly in the past. I don't know if it's just the acoustics in the room that play things up or what, but stuff was sounding differently than usual. Or everyone was just hopped up on Dayquil and loopy. On the plus side, we did record the march and it was a one-and-done situation. That was the last piece of the night, where we'd just spent like an hour on the mountain piece, so to blow through that in about five minutes was pretty awesome. That meant we actually ended a little early, phew.
Before I left, I wanted to stop by Dr. K's office to give him something...again. I had something for him last week, and as we walked to his office he went, is it chocolate?! No, dude, it's not chocolate. But that led me to text him the next day, so, what chocolate do you like? He didn't answer, but at solo contest on Saturday I ended up getting gifted a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates, and when I sent him a picture and asked, do you like these? His reply was an emphatic yes. I knew better than to give him chocolate before rehearsal--sugar and caffeine are bad, yo--but before I could get to him, the listening ears person went into his office and closed the door. Crap. Guess I will hang around a bit. Oddly enough, I don't even recall what I was doing during that time; maybe I went to the bathroom? I talked to people? Seriously, I'm drawing a blank. Oh, I spotted J the trumpet player and we had a conversation. I got to tell him that the mystery of the high pitch at Regular Band got solved. I also know he's going on a trip to Ireland this spring, and it turns out it's during the time when the Regular Band spring concert was scheduled, but since that was canceled he won't be missing anything important. Well, that worked out.
Eventually the door opened, and while they were still talking for another minute or two, I was able to open my bag to a very excited Dr. K--he was like, shut up! ...Dude, I'm not giving you the whole container, but you're welcome to a few of them. J actually ended up with the first one, and Dr. K took a couple, then I started offering them to other people left in the hallway. M the tuba player (formerly also the bass player, but someone else is playing bass for us now) was talking to Dr. K about meeting up afterward. It sounds like the band has a new meet-up spot. It used to be the Irish pub across the street, but now it's a different place, I think one that serves food and drink. The pub's kitchen must close at 9, I think I've heard. Regardless, not my thing. Anyway, in talking to Dr. K about chocolates, he made a comment about Junior Mints, basically quoting Seinfeld; I said something like, just don't eat them while watching surgery. He was highly amused that I caught his reference and gave me a fist bump. Big clarinet T was nearby and he and I started having a conversation--I think he was too young to watch the show when it was first-run, and he doesn't watch the reruns, so about all he knows from it is the Soup Nazi. Not only did my dad and I watch it back in the day, and we quote a couple things from it, the manager at work is a Seinfeld aficionado and quotes it at least once a week. (Dr. K was like, now that I know this about you, I'm going to quote it more often! Great. These pretzels are making me thirsty.)
I left soon after that and got greeted by a white-coated world. Oh, boo. It had been raining and sleeting earlier in the day, so that things were wet and a bit slick when I got to band, but now everything was snowy with a layer of ice under it. Nothing like riding home in that sort of situation. It actually wasn't that bad save for Fabyan Parkway once I got into Kane County; this idiot in a truck decided to drive normally, i.e., like a dumbass, and zoomed out of a cross street into the outer westbound lane (I was in the inner lane). It's bad enough if you do that when the roads are dry. When they're slippery, that's asking for trouble, and almost immediately the guy started fishtailing. It didn't help that, since it's a somewhat open area, the snow was blowing and that lane wasn't clear. Like, do you have a brain, and could you please use it? I'm just glad I was far enough back when he pulled onto the street that I was able to slow down in plenty of time to avoid the guy, because he was all over the place in his lane, and I purposely didn't want to try to pass him for fear he'd hit a slick spot and slam into me. Dude never caught on that he shouldn't try to go above 40 MPH and should just relax. I was very thankful he turned right onto Kirk once we got up there--and immediately turned too fast and fishtailed again. Definition of insanely stupid there. But I got home safely.