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Dealing with the Hand – continued from Parts I and II.
As musicians we are trained in school to be free and assertively pursue our musical ideas. Taking chances and “going for it” is our mantra, our purpose.
In the professional realm, it is a somewhat different matter. While orchestral musicians do have a certain degree of autonomy, the bottom line is that we are to blend into the orchestral fabric, lead by section leaders and the commander-in-chief.
This lack of freedom and control is one of the major factors that leads to stress and unhappiness in many orchestral musicians. Our school youth is spent with rose-colored glasses on and ideals of what the future holds. If not matured and adapted to professional expectations and standards, these ideals can over time turn into sour milk.
The Hand in one sense then, is symbolic. It can represent a rude awakening for brass players not prepared to deal with the realities of being a professional.
While the Hand cannot be controlled by those under its command, one’s personal reaction to it most certainly can be. You can choose to get angry and be a sourpuss, or, to get creative and be clever.
Once upon a time in Mexico
Over the course of my career I have experienced a few occasions when a conductor has demanded a nearly imperceptible soft dynamic level. One such occasion was in Mexico City with a well-known conductor who was notorious for being an eccentric autocrat, sometimes firing musicians on the spot with no notice.
It was an ordinary place in the Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique where I was singled out in a rehearsal. The Maestro stopped the entire orchestra and asked me to play a short passage by myself. It was marked piano so I played it at what I thought was an appropriate dynamic level.
“No, no, no!” shouted the Maestro. “That was not piano. You need to play it softer.” He went on in more detail and even took a brief tangent to insult my masculinity (I had a long ponytail then).
I tried again.
“NO! Again!”
And again I tried. Fortunately for me I didn’t get too rattled by his constant tirade of insults. He seemed hell-bent on breaking me. I was equally determined not to react.
This cycle went back and forth for a few turns and finally the idea jumped into my head that maybe the Maestro thought that I wasn’t trying hard enough. Without changing anything in my embouchure or dynamic level, I scrunched my eyebrows downward to telegraph the impression that I was trying REALLY hard.
Luckily for me, it worked – like a charm. Whew.
It was a curious incident that my colleagues and I had a good laugh over later. Apparently I had passed the Maestro’s test, and the next day he even greeted me with a heartfelt hug. (?!)
Pianissimo and beyond
The anecdote above is an extreme case of course. This “eyebrow technique” amounts to a psychological trick basically, to shake off a mad dog.
Under normal circumstances there are some simple techniques to achieve softer dynamics. Here are three suggestions:
First, a soft pianissimo might be better conceptualized as what Sam Pilafian calls a “baby forte.” Playing softly in other words does not mean a weak air stream. It just means a slower, more controlled airstream.
Second, Farkas’ illustration of a large, open-ended coffee can covered with a cloth pull-string bag (from the The Art of Brass Playing
In other words, pucker the lips.
Lastly, playing softly does not mean less quality air, but rather slower, more pressurized air. Imagining a large inner tube squeezing around the mid-section helps to activate the necessary abdominal muscles, which in turn provide the needed compression and air pressure.
(I personally avoid using the word “support” as this term can cause confusion.)
Fighting fire with fire
A very handy trick (no pun intended) that I picked up long ago was to fight the Hand with my own hand – the right hand that is.
(This is a much better method by the way, than fighting back with the “finger” — either metaphorically in the mind, or literally with the … uhm … middle finger.)
Forming the right hand with the tips of the thumb and fingers touching, and inserting the hand so that the bell is semi-closed, I push in the main tuning slide about one inch and play a normal pianissimo.
This “quasi-echo horn” technique not only lowers the dynamic level but it also muffles treble frequencies from the tone, which enhances the effect. Coupled with placing the bell held snugly against the body, this trick is a last resort.
It is however a useful effect that has made many a conductor happy. It has saved me from much anxiety over meeting unreasonable demands to play imperceptibly quiet. Used on isolated sustained notes (such as in a quiet woodwind chord) it works very well.
UPDATE: 3.23.09
– please read David Thomas’ great article, “Breathing Comes Naturally.“
