“One of us must be crazy and it isn’t me” wrote Vienna’s most influential music critic, Eduard Hanslick – baffled over Gustav Mahler’s mish-mash of styles

The “Mahler boom” in the 1960′s and early 70′s attracted countless admirers to the music of this highly complex genius — amongst them myself, a fledgling musician and unabashed admirer of the craft of orchestral trumpet playing. The adolescent thrill of hearing Gustav Mahler’s music for the first time, and particularly hearing the pervasive role in which trumpets are cast throughout most of his complex scores, remains with me today. I’m proud to be a musician, and hearing the complete cycle of Mahler Symphonies for the first time served as the catalyst for me to become a musician. Mahler’s symphonic music is an emotional lightning rod — my pulse still quickens at the funereal opening of the Fifth; I cringe when the hammer blow falls in the Sixth; and my heart soars with the chorale at the end of the Third. The triumphant marches of the Second and Seventh bring goose bumps, on and off the stage, and the final movement of the Ninth, as well as of Das Lied von der Erde (Der Abschied ), rarely fail to bring tears to my eyes — a confession that I’m very proud to make.

What is it, then, in the language of Mahler that makes it so compelling to listen to, to play on the trumpet, or simply to study? Is it the characteristic Mahlerian juxtaposition of the tragic and the banal (Mahler’s first known piece was a polka preceded by a funeral march!), or allowing such beautiful trumpet writing to live side-by-side with such turmoil, that so quickly underscores his undeniable genius and identifies his unique voice? Is it a knowing eye and ear for theater that served Mahler so well during his term as Director of the Vienna Opera — the most powerful job that a musician could hold in the Habsburg Empire? Is it his undeniable faith, so generously and unabashedly revealed in his Resurrection Symphony, living simultaneously within a man who was also fascinated by Faustian philosophy (note Mahler’s astonishing coupling of a medieval Latin hymn tune and Goethe’s Faust in the second part of Symphony No. 8) and oriental mysticism (Das Lied von der Erde)? Or is it some inner conflict exemplified by, in Leonard Bernstein’s words, “the shame of being a Jew and the shame of being ashamed” that lies at the heart of his music? Mahler once claimed, late in his life, to be “thrice homeless, as a native of Bohemia in Austria, as an Austrian among Germans, and as a Jew throughout the world. Everywhere an intruder, never welcomed”. In spite of the possibility of his inner turmoil is being overstated here, I believe that it is safe to say that Mahler’s soul was rarely at peace… much like his music.

To these questions, I offer no definitive answers. I simply play, teach and occasionally conduct Mahler’s riveting music. It must be said, however, that simple realization of the highly detailed instructions that Mahler left us is only the initial step to then be followed by many more which comprise a great performance. Musical interpretation, especially in professional performances of canonical works, can be seen as an ongoing conversation with colleagues, the audience and, very importantly, those who have preceded us. When we sound the opening of the Fifth Symphony, we’re not engaged in some sort of neutral transmission of notes on a page — we’re expressing our deeply personal views about this passage. Furthermore, when we play it in Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw, New York’s Carnegie Hall or Vienna’s Musikvereinssaal (or, perhaps even more, when we record it) we are contributing through those views a “conversation” that goes back to Mahler himself. As a result, any musical performance is always more than a commentary on the piece — it becomes a personal statement on both the composer and the many performances that his works have received to date. Opening our own windows to learn as much as possible about the man and his complex musical world allows us the freedom to interpret Mahler’s music — the orchestral trumpeter’s art.

Many of you are facing new projects and recitals. Others might only be practicing etudes in an effort to stay in shape. Whatever it is that you’re working on I hope that you’re plowing new musical ground and that this will be an enjoyable year.

Each of us has a method of attack when learning a new piece. Below is mine.

I believe that there are six levels of listening when preparing new repertoire and recommend that you tackle them in this order (please note that levels 1 – 4 are objective – subject to the standards of your ear– and levels 5 & 6 are subjective – subject to the performer’s imagination):

1) Decipher the rhythms
This work should be done off the horn. Take whatever time is necessary to wrap your brain and ear completely around every rhythm – even the simple ones. I expect my students to take days staring at the score of Sequenza X to completely understand each cell before tackling the next step. This goes for a Charlier etude as well (days might become a single hour, but you get my drift).

2) Add the notes
Make sure that each interval is properly heard before playing it. Slow and patient intervallic practice will mean fewer missed notes later on.

3) Add the dynamics
Don’t be afraid to play really soft in piano and really loud in forte. You’re imprinting the music every time you play it and if you play everything at mezzo piano your performance will be mezzo unlistenable.

4) Add the editorial
Carefully add details such as accents, articulations, crescendi/diminuendi, etc. The composer took the time to attempt to notate what (s)he heard while composing the piece. It’s vital to respect every bit of notation. Please take a moment to translate verbal instructions. They’re from the source!

5) Add yourself
This is where your own imagination joins the fray and the fun begins. What sort of color will you add to a particular line or phrase? Are you making a statement or asking a question? Will you play with a straight tone or add vibrato? How wide is your personal dynamic range? How clear are your articulations? How long will a fermata be held, etc. Your choices cannot be questioned if you’re fully committed to them.

6) Mind the architecture
Every composition, even a short etude, has shape. Be aware of the armature that the notes are hanging from and convey the shape of that line (or where you are compositionally) to the audience.

Let’s take a careful look at an upcoming audition in Montreal and consider what an audition committee may (or may not) be looking for in when listening to an applicant. Trust me when I say that I’ve served on many.

Firstly, let’s understand that there are objective standards against which any candidate can be measured by a committee of peers:

1) Playing the notes effortlessly.

2) Rhythmic accuracy (hugely important on a large stage where the brass often can’t hear the front or opposite side of the stage when they themselves are playing)

3) Intonation (if it’s close it’s wrong).

4) Clarity (articulation, punctuation, etc.).

5) Knowledge of the entire composition and the composer’s stylistic thumbprint (this rings through the screen immediately – trust me once again).

Subjective standards such as the quality and appropriateness of an applicant’s sound will naturally vary from orchestra to orchestra. Please remember that your sound is YOUR sound and if the committee likes it you might have a good fit (conversely if they don’t like it you wouldn’t have been happy there anyway so move along with a smile). The power of your forte and the fluidity of your pianissimo must match the dynamic of the ensemble as well. Thank God for subjectivity. Variety is the spice of life, after all.

Secondly, let’s take a look at the description of the job and repertoire list:

4th trumpet (utility)

Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal

Kent Nagano, Music Director

Announces the following vacancies

4th trumpet (utility)

National auditions will be held on January 11, 2007

Employment to begin in September 2007

Highly qualified applicants please send a one-page resume before December 15, 2006 to

Michael Carpenter, Personnel Manager Musicians

Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal

260, de Maisonneuve Ouest

Montréal, QC H2X 1Y9

Repertoire

A) SOLO

Honneger Intrada pour trompette et piano

B) RÉPERTOIRE ORCHESTRAL

Bartók Concerto pour orchestre (1er, 2e et 5e mvt) Trompette 2

Beethoven Ouverture Leonore nº 2 et 3 op. 72 (solo hors scène) Trompette 1 Beethoven Symphonie nº 5 en do mineur op. 67 (2e mvt) Trompette 2 Bizet Carmen Suite nº 1 (Prélude) Trompette 1

Debussy Trois Nocturnes (II – Fêtes) Trompette 2

Donizetti Don Pasquale (Prélude du début du 2e acte)

Dvorák Symphonie nº 8 (nº 4) en sol majeur op. 88 (1er, 2e et 4e mvt) Trompette 2

Gershwin Concerto pour piano en fa majeur (2e mvt) Trompette 1

Handel Messiah (nº 48 The Trumpet Shall Sound)

Mahler Symphonie nº 5 en do# mineur (1er mvt) Trompette 1

Moussorgsky / Ravel Tableaux d’une exposition (Promenade) Trompette 1

Ravel Concerto pour piano en sol majeur (1er mvt)

Respighi Les Pins de Rome (1er mvt) Trompette 2

Schumann Symphonie nº 2 en do majeur op. 61 (1er mvt début à 2 mesures avant A ) Trompette 1 et 2

Shostakovich Symphonie nº 5 en ré mineur op. 47 (1er mvt) Trompette 2

Strauss, R. Ein Heldenleben op. 40 Trompette 1 en mib (complet) Trompette 2 en mib (mesures 58-66 et 69-75)

Strauss, R. Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche op. 28 Trompette 3

Stravinski Petrouchka (version 1911) Piston 1 (Danse de la Ballerine : 1 mesure avant 69 à 70 ) Trompette piccolo 1 et 2 (Final : de 132 à la fin)

POSSIBILITÉ DE LECTURE À VUE ET DE JOUER AVEC LA SECTION DE TROMPETTE DE L’OSM / SIGHT READING AND PLAYING WITH THE OSM TRUMPET SECTION MAY BE REQUIRED

S.V.P. apporter votre partie de piano, car nous aurons un accompagnateur. Le diapason de l’OSM est La-442.

An accompanist is supplied; please bring your own piano part. The pitch of the OSM is A-442.

I feel that this is a very fair list for a utility trumpet position. The OSM feels that Honneger’s Intrada is a good test for an orchestral musician (I agree) and they thoughtfully ask that each applicant bring his/her own piano part (presumably to address various interpretations), warn that sight-reading and playing with the section may be required, and add that A-442 is the pitch standard of the orchestra. Useful information, all.

I believe that each applicant should consider what the committee is objectively listening for when they hear the following passages: (my personal take is marked with a star *)

Honneger Intrada pour trompette et piano

*Opening: Quality and presentation of sound from low G to high C. Soft to loud dynamics and long line. Part two (if they get to it): rhythmic accuracy and clarity of articulation. Note that first impressions are powerful. You won’t win the job by playing a great Intrada but attracting the interest of the committee may be critical to advancing to later rounds.

Bartók Concerto pour orchestre (1er, 2e et 5e mvt) Trompette 2

*Mvt #1: (opening) Soft articulation, soft dynamic, intonation, and rhythmic accuracy (fugue) weight of sound and rhythmic accuracy. Mvt #2: Clarity of articulation, dynamics, and rhythmic accuracy. Mvt #5: Intonation, weight of sound, and rhythmic accuracy.

Beethoven Ouverture Leonore nº 2 et 3 op. 72 (solo hors scène) Trompette 1

*Bravura style and clarity of articulation (psst: observe the fermati).

Beethoven Symphonie nº 5 en do mineur op. 67 (2e mvt) Trompette 2

*Intonation, clarity of articulation, and weight of sound.

Bizet Carmen Suite nº 1 (Prélude) Trompette 1

*Secure low notes, intonation, long line, and rhythmic accuracy (psst: there will probably be a cellist on your committee).

Debussy Trois Nocturnes (II – Fêtes) Trompette 2

*Rhythmic accuracy, soft dynamic, and clarity of articulation (psst: the OSM absolutely owns this, and other, French pieces. Be prepared to play different articulations if asked. Think French champagne, not German beer).

Donizetti Don Pasquale (Prélude du début du 2e acte)

*Expressive, singing line (psst, subjectivity lovers: this is a great opportunity to sing and shine as it’s the only true “solo” in the entire list of orchestral passages, save the short Gerhwin lick and the brief opening of Mahler #5).

Dvorák Symphonie nº 8 (nº 4) en sol majeur op. 88 (1er, 2e et 4e mvt) Trompette 2

*Presentation of sound over two octaves, intonation, and rhythmic accuracy.

Gershwin Concerto pour piano en fa majeur (2e mvt) Trompette 1

*Singing line and rhythmic accuracy (psst: take the time to prepare a good chapeau. Thrift shops can be a goldmine of old fedoras. Cut the brim off and make a small slot 1 inch from the rim to grab the tip of your bell. Experiment until satisfied and then really practice on the silly thing!).

Handel Messiah (nº 48 The Trumpet Shall Sound)

*Intonation and articulation on a higher trumpet (psst: also knowledge of when to step forward and when to step back into the shadow of the basso).

Mahler Symphonie nº 5 en do# mineur (1er mvt) Trompette 1

*Range of dynamics, clarity of articulation, intonation, and presentation of sound (psst: know and prepare all of the passages, including all of the tutti “solos” and muted pp triads at the end of the movement).

Moussorgsky / Ravel Tableaux d’une exposition (Promenade) Trompette 1

*Presentation of sound, long line, and rhythmic accuracy (psst: don’t rush!).

Ravel Concerto pour piano en sol majeur (1er mvt)

*Clarity of articulation and rhythmic accuracy over a long line.

Respighi Les Pins de Rome (1er mvt) Trompette 2

*Presentation of sound at loud (muted) dynamic, rhythmic accuracy.

Schumann Symphonie nº 2 en do majeur op. 61 (1er mvt début à 2 mesures avant A ) Trompette 1 et 2

*Presentation of sound at soft dynamic, intonation, and rhythmic accuracy (psst: the majority of the committee members won’t be trumpeters and won’t care one iota that this is a simple, but difficult, passage! Auditions have been lost, but rarely won, during such moments).

Shostakovich Symphonie nº 5 en ré mineur op. 47 (1er mvt) Trompette 2

*Presentation of sound and rhythmic accuracy (psst: there will probably be a percussionist on your committee).

Strauss, R. Ein Heldenleben op. 40 Trompette 1 en mib (complet) Trompette 2 en mib (mesures 58-66 et 69-75)

*Eb #1: Presentation of sound and rhythmic accuracy. Eb#2: Presentation of sound, rhythmic accuracy, and clear attack on low notes.

Strauss, R. Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche op. 28 Trompette 3

*Presentation of sound and rhythmic accuracy.

Stravinski Petrouchka (version 1911) Piston 1 (Danse de la Ballerine : 1 mesure avant 69 à 70 ) Trompette piccolo 1 et 2 (Final : de 132 à la fin)

*Clarity of articulation and rhythmic accuracy (similar on the muted piccolo trumpet).

Those paying attention will note that rhythmic accuracy is crucial to winning a job in a large ensemble. Delivering a wide range of dynamics is important (consider please that there will be committee members who are unimpressed by FF dynamics and dream of trumpeters who exercise restraint. Drop the hammer once to show that you have a large FF but be absolutely scintillating from mf to pp), but a candidate without solid internal rhythm can’t be invited to become a colleague. The stage is simply too large and 100+ members count, so to speak, on one another to play in time.

Lastly, expect the unexpected. You may be asked to do something that differs from your preparation – to repeat a passage differently or to play something that isn’t included on the list – and you should view the unexpected as an opportunity to shine. This, in my opinion, is where auditions are most often won or lost.

Contrary to the way it appears from my monthly commute to California, weekly trips to Quebec, and occasional European jaunts, I greatly dislike airplanes. For me, air travel is boring, annoying, dangerous for my respiratory health, and every moment of turbulence is a cause for anxiety. It’s like being at the dentist’s office. Even the chairs are the same. Whenever I’m in a plane and suffering the white noise and airlessness peculiar to the beast I always suspect that the land we are over-flying is abundantly rich and that I’m missing it all (I see the Grand Canyon twice per month, weather permitting) (Las Vegas too) (Beauty and the Beast?). The greatest satisfaction in travel comes with discovery; the private thrill of putting the pieces together, or seeing them in a new way.

Flying for me is like practicing a trumpet part without having access to the score, or tackling a difficult new piece without spending an hour just looking at it first.

I admire intelligent, knowledgeable, literate, score-carrying musicians. Anyone who knows one scale from another, one composer’s signature from another, or can sense the codes as they are passed back and forth. A musical landscape looks different when you know the names of things and can hear them–and, conversely, can look and sound exceedingly inhospitable and alien when things are nameless and inaudible. These simple bits of musical knowledge intensify the feeling of discovery. Every jazz musician knows this. Every composer/performer does as well. Many classically trained instrumentalists try to get by without. I know that for many years I did. I’d buy new stuff instead and have boxes of weird mouthpieces to show for it; another down payment on my condo in hell. Shame on me.

I’m pondering repertoire for my students this afternoon but I’m really thinking about Venetian foot-bridges (yes, I’m obsessed by “The Most Serene Republic”).

Do you see each bridge as an obstacle—as just another set of steps to climb to get from one side of a canal to the other—or do you see them, as a true musician does, as transitions between one space and another?

Our individual repertoire can be viewed as a series of foot-bridges. We go over each piece that we choose to play slowly. It is part of our personal rhythm—a link between two parts of our own musical theater, like changes in scenery, or like the progression between Act One and Act Two. Our role changes as we pass through each new piece. We cross from the reality of one language to the next, from one technique to another. Each becomes a necessary portal to the next level of our musicianship.

Choose your repertoire carefully. Don’t re-cross the same bridge endlessly, even if it’s in Venice. There’s another a short distance away that leads to new things.

I had the honor and pleasure of teaching at the Saint Petersburg Conservatory for two weeks back in the mid 1990′s at the invitation of Mravinsky’s legendary trumpeter, Veniamin Margolin. In addition to hearing some of the loudest trumpet students anywhere (Brantissimo!), I also enjoyed many vodka soaked conversations with Prof. Margolin covering stories of the old Leningrad Philharmonic, our students, and the state of world trumpet playing. A pattern emerged in these conversations: names such as Bud Herseth, Maurice Murphy, and Peter Masseurs were always identified by Margolin as “great trumpeters” while names such as Maurice André, John Wallace, Timofey Dokshitzer, and Reinhold Friederich emerged as “great cornetists”. It was obvious that this distinguished Russian orchestral trumpeter considered all trumpet soloists as “cornetists”, in spite of rarely performing on our conical cousin.

This made me pause. . . are all soloists cornetists at heart? Is the range of technique needed to perform solo works by Berio, H.K. Gruber, Max Davies, Tomasi, and others a throwback, of sorts, to the extended virtuosity of Kryl, Staigers, and Clarke?

Taking this thought one step further, might the collection of instruments that emerged in the second half of the 20th Century (Eb, G, piccolo A/Bb, flügelhorn) be an unconscious attempt to counter the brilliance (and volume) of our Bb and C trumpets with a more cornet-like intimacy appropriate for most solo and chamber music settings? Could the same be said of the use of the harmon, cup, and plunger in our favorite jazz clubs?

Food for thought. I think that I might try eating at Chez Cornet tonight. I hear that the doodle tongue is excellent.

A quote that just caught my eye:

“Diversity is the most basic principle of creation. No two snowflakes, blades of grass, or people are alike.”
– Lynn Maria Laitala

If diversity is the mother of balance then perhaps it’s the cultivation of our individuality as performers that should be foremost in our quest to become better trumpeters and musicians. We often harbor the illusion that balance and sameness are identical. Sameness, after all, feeds our illusion of being in control. Diversity, on the other hand, offers us the musical creativity of balancing-unbalancing-rebalancing – a lifetime process. Balance is an ongoing process and isn’t static.

As trumpeters many of us push and push for sameness, blind to the idea that sameness feels imbalanced eventually. Many want to hang around with other trumpeters who are similar to us. Many want our overly familiar methodology to cover the globe (fat chance, that). Many choose to copy performances from CDs rather than create our own interpretation.

Yikes and yikes again.

Teaching music in its many forms poses more problems than simply teaching music. Inevitably, I have to confront the root issue for anyone who takes seriously the implications of trumpet in the large-ensemble form in culture. I believe that the symphony orchestra is different in kind from simply a large collection of players playing together. It has acquired that difference in meaning over time, so that by now we can say it has been “impregnated” with a special significance, something like a cross between being a distinct medium and—transposing a term from Asian culture—being a “national treasure.” We can have several attitudes towards this transformation of large ensemble into the Symphony Orchestra.

I recently told a colleague at CalArts that I was obsessed with the idea of the orchestra, though I hadn’t sounded a note in one since leaving the Rotterdam Philharmonic in 1992. She said that to her the orchestra represented the ideals of the Enlightenment and of Beethoven’s part in that. Something about freedom she said, a glorious, even overwhelming sound of humankind.

The orchestra’s ideal status as the expression of individuals merged into a collectivity-in-unity, singing some part of ourselves back to us in an awe-inspiring, expressive language, is not something talked about in my current musical circles. The Symphony Orchestra is either shunned as an elite item purposefully kept out of the hands of the children of the avant-garde, or it is grimly and slavishly courted as a source of commissions, royalties, and publications. Few composers I know take sustenance in the sheer overwhelming power of its sound, of the monumentality of ninety-to-a-hundred-ten human beings with one leader, doing together something of such precision and difficulty that really has no other exemplar in Western culture.

Most of us, on the other hand, have been or know orchestral players who gripe and bitterly complain either about their conductor(s), their terms of employment, or the boredom of playing what they have to play every day, and when pushed to articulate more, will say that the orchestral life is a crass negation of the very ideals that brought them into music in the first place. Of course I’m speaking of North Americans now, but the strange and contradictory place of the orchestra in contemporary life is a worldwide urban phenomenon. It is a grand, grandiose, extremely expensive, elitist, and European institution (even when found in Asia), an unlikely institution to survive in postmodern global capitalism where digital information is primary, and inefficient skilled manual labor is some kind of atavistic holdover of pre-digital civilizations. Yet no country espousing Western ideals can do without a nice handful of these relics.

And if you ask me, the orchestral sound is one of the most thrilling things on earth. Yet there is something profoundly wrong with the deep structure of the orchestra and this is connected to the way it fails to unite the past of its tradition and the present-day state of musical creativity. One cause is the Modernist attack on the past, which included an attack on magisterial largeness. In the early 20th-century, Schoenberg, in his Chamber Symphony No.1, paired down the orchestra to a string quintet and single winds. This kind of ensemble of about fifteen musicians fulfilled a minimum harmonic and contrapuntal requirement for his, now, post-romantic music and would become one kind of model for the “radio orchestra”—sound engineers could always enrich the sound if necessary! But the large symphony orchestra survived this attempt at streamlining, and full-sized radio orchestras still exist and thrive in Europe (though they were summarily dismissed from American’s totally commercialized radio decades ago and Canada just lost her last recently). Still, composers often felt that the symphony orchestra was the not the ideal medium for their ideas, especially neoclassic ones, or post-Webern, pointillist ones.

I’m conflicted, obviously, within this subject.