Dec 28 2007
High on Low Brass (Pic of the Week)
Finally, I have lifted the pall that covered my musical self for nearly 20 years.
Band. Call it what you will — it was fun, and by my senior high school year it had been a daily presence in my life for seven years. Well, every school day, that is. Like any other team, we learned the language of our art and practiced together to become a single unit moving toward a common goal. Before the school year started, we hit the practice fields twice daily to mark time against August’s 100-degree heat. We performed before live audiences thousands strong. In concert band, we tackled symphonies and overtures most bands wouldn’t attempt. We won awards at competitions.
Then, after my 1989 high school graduation, for me it all disappeared. I haven’t been a part of a team like that since, and I haven’t made music with anything but my own voice. Since then I have developed a habit of whistling, humming, and other methods of making music with my mouth. I think this is because every day during a period critical to development, my mind was programmed to expect that kind of activity. Not to mention the social aspect of band.
My freshman year in college I went as far as borrowing a horn and figuring out how to work band into my schedule, but in the end I didn’t go through with it.
(click any picture to enlarge)
In the mid-1990’s I stopped by a music store in Little Rock, where we lived then, to check out a used euphonium. I played a few scales that I was surprised I could remember, and ached to take the horn home. Its price tag, though reasonable for such a fine instrument, was too high.
While teaching at a self-sufficient branch of a community college in northwest Arkansas in 2002, I toyed with the idea of joining the school’s brass ensemble. Borrowing a horn never quite panned out, so I dropped the notion and resigned myself to downloading mp3’s of drum and bugle corps competitions.
That only served as an appetizer.
This year, while perusing craigslist.com, I found a used marching baritone priced remarkably cheaper than the same horn brand new. It is a respected brand for that instrument, especially for beginners, and a popular model for high school and college marching bands. A few inquiring e-mails and a generous Christmas gift later, I was the proud owner of a Yamaha YBH301M.
When I first opened the case, I was reminded of a joke my grandfather told me. An avid golfer ends up in hell. The devil gives him a tour, showing him many top-notch golf courses with all the amenities. Gives him a set of clubs customized to fit him and his swing. When he asks, “Where are the balls?” the devil replies, “That’s the hell of it.”
Inside the case was not just any used horn. After years of learning and performing on a school-owned instrument, it was mine, and I was ready to play. I gently slipped my fingers between the cold metal and the felt lining. I held it aloft with my left hand and reached down with my right to grab the mouthpiece.
There was no mouthpiece. I rifled through the case and the shipping box. Nope, not there either.
“Khaaaaaaaaaaannn!!!!”
The guy had told me he would throw in a mouthpiece, but obviously had forgot. My new quest was on. It was Christmas Eve day, so I might find a music shop open in Little Rock. I did, but they wanted $65 for what I needed. Ouch. I skipped that one. Another store’s answering machine informed me that they were a Christian shop and were closed to celebrate the savior’s birth. I wasn’t all that crazy about Jesus at that moment.
On our way home, I stopped at the first Texarkana exit and borrowed a phone book from the lady behind a convenience store counter. The first two places were closed. Finally I found a guy who had a mouthpiece for $42, and said he’d be there until 5 p.m. It was 4:44. I got directions and squealed out of the parking lot, Homer’s engine roaring. It was 4:48.
Texarkana is a town divided between two states, and traversing the border is a matter of crossing State Line Boulevard. After driving from the Natural State to the Lone Star State, I parked off Main Street at 4:55 and dashed inside Superior Sound.
At 4:59, I slipped my brand new Blessing (no kidding, that really was the brand name) into my used Yamaha and blurted out several notes heard in two states. The valves were sticky, probably just in need of oil, but they worked.
That evening, back at our house, I knelt down and opened the case. Ben walked up beside me and said, “Daddy, can you play the Star Wars song?”
A mixture of pride and shame welled up in me. I was glad that was the song he had requested, but I didn’t know how to play it. “No, son, but I can learn it.”
Christmas night, I downloaded and printed some public domain sheet music while playing Candy Land and Shoots and Ladders with Benjamin and Shannon. My valves freshly lubed (the only way to go, really), I sat on the floor, my music propped against a menagerie of stuffed Christmas animals. I warmed up with the five scales I still remembered, then worked my way somewhat clumsily through a few of the songs. Among my efforts was a popular section of “The Nutcracker Suite,” which gave me some expected trouble on the high notes.
Benjamin sat next to me, looked in my eyes, and said gently, “Daddy, maybe some day you could be in a band.” He seemed to suggest that if I practice hard enough, I just might make it.
I don’t know exactly what I’ll do, but I sure loved the feeling I got when my boy’s face lit up to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” It was sheer joy when he started singing along. Now, if only I can pick out the fingerings for “The Imperial Death March” from The Empire Strikes Back.
You make me jealous. Just kidding. In Conway, the band department at the high school finally bought us new marching baritones my last year in high school. I have not priced them in years. Baritones have gone up in price some. The concert horns are more expensive due to the all the extra “plumbing” with a fourth value to boot. I was told that new concert horns nearly 20 years ago ran about $3,000 and up. Tubas were double that because of the extra “plumbing.” In Conway, they provided the baritones and tubas rent free.
I do not know if my embrasure would take it. I was not the best player in high school. I practiced, but I had trouble with the second and fourth value combination of a low B natural (the one in the bass clef staff). My fingers could never master it.
I felt the withdrawal when I graduated in 1990 from high school. I was tired of being in band and being required to go to all of the football games. I did not want to do that anymore. I felt some pressure from one of the band directors at UCA to give me a scholarship to play in their marching band. I turned it down. I decided when high school was over that I would pursue something else. Unless I was majoring in music would I have considered band. I was not a music major, and I did not major in music. If I had tried, I would have had my time pulled between two different things–my major and the band. I knew a few that attempted that. For some, it did not work very well.
During my years in high school band, the band took a backseat to the football team. The administration at that time was very “high promotion on athletics” and not much into fine arts especially at a time when the team was not making very far and not getting to the state championships. The team had trouble for nearly four years when it barely won half of its games. Shortly after I graduated, a new coach was brought in. A big change happened.
Since graduating high school nearly 20 years ago, I have only been to one high school ballgame back in 1990–the fall after I finished. After that, I did not want to go back. I was bored at the ballgame since I was not in the band anymore. I attended one of the concerts back in the late 1990s.
The mouthpiece we used in band was a Yamaha 6 1/2 AL. I think that was the mouthpiece.
Speaking of “Star Wars,” I remember playing it at a band camp. Unfortunately, the baritone part was mostly background and harmony. I cannot remember the piece’s name, but it was a music montage of the “Star Trek” theme, Superman, and Star Wars. I have the tape somewhere. I have not listened to it in awhile.
I’m stuck on the fact, that if you read the first few sentences quickly, it sounds like you were in high school for 7 years! *ROTFLMAO*
Ok, now you have the horn (and it’s a beauty), what are you going to do with it? To what end I mean? A neighborhood marching band??
Just curious…..
Have a great weekend bud…. and may the force be with you!
John - I guess I was just more coordinated than you (ha!).
Seriously, though, I loved the football games, and marching band was one of my favorites. It sounds like the support for our band was quite the opposite from yours, though. For a year and a half, I went to a high shcool where the football team was very good (state champions) and I felt the sting of band being almost ignored. We walked out onto the field, turned around and played a song, moved again, played a song, etc. Very boring, and for me, very embarrassing. Then I moved back to my hometown and was with a premium program again.
Dave - I didn’t like that sentence, either, but it somehow made the cut.
I’m not sure what I’ll do with the horn. I think mostly I wanted it to play around the house and get Ben interested in making music beyond just the (very cool) percussion instruments he has. But, also to see how well I can build back up my chops and who knows, maybe end up like one of those old guys in a group called “The Retreads.” Or, and I hesitate to even type this, “Razzmajazz.”
It is heartwarming to hear of your reunion with your old friend. What a great moment it must have been for you to share that with Ben. He is such a sweet kid. Are you going to teach him to play???
I’m so happy for you, Mark. It means so much for kids to actually see music being made. Norah won’t let Moonshot play piano right now without “helping.” But soon.
I never learned to play an instrument…and I really regret that. I always wanted to play the drums. These days I mullify my longing with extended evenings of “Rock Band,” beating on plastic constructs half-way between drums and game controllers.
That bottom picture makes me wince just a bit. I expect to see Ben’s hair flying backward, his little hands clutched to his ringing ears. I have to assume you weren’t playing full volume in that shot ;)
You know, for “not” being named after Mr. Kenobi, that young boy of yours sure has taken to the movies, eh? ;)
Most folks would have been content to let that little bit of nostalgia remain in the past, Mark. I think it’s awesome that you took the time and effort to get back on that band pony. Ride it for all it’s worth! Definitely inspirational for your wee lad there too, to see his dad pick up something he’d left off.
Hi Mark, I am glad I found your blog its really a pleasure to visit.
I wish You a Happy and Creative 2008, Look at my Happy fireworks and wishes. See my blog:)(c) JoAnn
Amy - If he asks, then I certainly will teach him. His lips aren’t quite big enough yet, though!
Moksha - It’s the only instrument I ever have learned how to play — but I still hold out hope it’s not the only one I ever will. Maybe I’m regressing.
Don’t worry about Ben in the bottom pic. I definitely was not playing full volume, and Ben’s face was quite a bit to the side instead of directly in the path of the bell.
Simon - Ben has received it well thus far. If it inspires him, then all’s the better.
JoAnn - Thanks for stopping in and bothering to comment. I’m always impressed by what you’re doing photographically.