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Euphonium Introduction Without
a doubt, if the euphonium is going to advance in the world of music, the
general public must know what it is and what it is not. This is
important information. However, for an aspiring performer on the
instrument, there are few web pages dedicated to the actual performance of
the euphonium. For this person, it is mandatory to have a basic
collection of performance concepts in his mind when seeking personal goals
behind the horn. This is an article dedicated to that idea, and it
is my hope that it will inspire future generations of those who chose to
perform on the euphonium on to great music making. As
the information in this article has been drawn from personal experiences
and the expertise of those who have advanced the euphonium, do not accept
the things written here as absolutes. Just as performance is an
interpretive art, so too is the reasoning process that leads one to
performance success. It is my hope that you, the reader, will take
these ideas only into consideration, taking what works and leaving behind
those concepts that you may find irrelevant. Say
Something Rarely,
if ever, does a person win a competition on "perfection"
(whatever this is...again, performance is an interpretive art). In truth,
a person that advances in these events usually does so based on his
musicality. (I know that this seems rather obvious, but if you begin
to compete in many competitions, you may find yourself asking how obvious
this really is.) Everything you play must be musical, regardless of
what it is. The
obvious question here, then, is what is "musical" in
performance? Here are three very basic concepts that I think anyone
who seeks to be musical in the world of euphonium performance should keep
in mind: 1.
First of all, the vagueness of this term oftentimes causes conceptual
synonyms like "schmaltzy" to take over. This causes a
performance to be completely fake. (By fake, I mean that the
performer seems to play like what he’s been told, not what he
feels. He’s just passing on what someone else says, not what he as
the performer has to say.) To me (again, this entire article is
opinions, isn't it?), when someone says "that was musical," my
first thought is that the music said something to that person.
Simply, the performance conveyed a message, and as music is often
considered a language, the language was spoken in such a way that it was
understandable to the audience. (Do you ever stop to consider how
absolutely awesome this is, that music really is a completely global
language?) To say it in short, the first idea here is that you've
got to say something through the music (whether it's “my dog died,”
“I miss you,” “I'm happy...” whatever). 2.
Secondly, take a risk when you perform. Have you ever heard this and
really wondered what that meant? My concept of this takes me back to
a recent performance of the Gimethorpe Colliery Band that I heard in
Carnagie Hall. Without a doubt, this group is nothing short of
stellar. However, as the show wound on (and it was a long one!), one
began to wonder how much the human lip could endure in such a mammoth
program (especially the Eb Soprano Cornet player…wow!). I
can't remember what the number was that they were performing, but I
remember that the band had a lick that progressively went softer and
higher, and as it did I wondered about the fatigue factor. One had
to search very hard to find any evidence of this, as the band was flawless
for the most part. However, one lick that kept going up (and getting
softer) belonged to the Eb Soprano Cornet player, and he managed to
vivaciously crack most of the upper notes. As this happened,
however, my admiration for him grew. Here was a musician that was
probably the victim of some bad programming, but he managed to take the
risk of playing the passage at the required volume. While
this doesn't make a way for excusing mistakes, it does illustrate the
point here: let yourself take the risk to perform the passages as they are
meant to be played, and see where it takes you. (Another concept:
practice like you intend to perform, but know your capabilities, too.) 3.
Thirdly (and finally, for now), remember that the preparation process is
directly proportional to the performance. This, too, seems pretty
obvious, but I've been to enough miserable recitals to know that the
performer at such events probably hasn't heard this obvious law of
performance. How a performer can be so amazed that he produced
nothing memorable on the stage when he never darkened the doorway to the
practice room is beyond me. Personally, the only way I am ever
comfortable on the stage is when I know that I can really "own"
the solo. That is to say, I have worked hard enough in practice
enough to know that the concept will be clearly conveyed. (Great
tip: play for anyone and everyone you can when practicing, and ask them
what they hear.) Conclusion |
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