Jun. 19, 2009 - Concert Night
Normally I have to let something simmer a day or two before I can write about it, but this is just about jumping out of my skin and I know I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve written at least some of tonight’s concert experience down. They say we perform over 100 events/concerts per year (but who’s counting?) and from the past 3 years that I have been a member of the band, this was by far the best.
First, we had more band members on stage tonight than ever before, and those numbers gave us a fullness that allowed us to play louder sections effortlessly, yet quiet sections oozed from our instruments with ease. I recall back in high school when I had the opportunity to sing in the Provincial Honour Choir in
The theme of the concert was the centennial of flight in
And I think it was. There were times during the music that I looked up at the bandmaster, as I do from time to time, just to make sure I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing when I’m supposed to be doing it, and I saw him smile. Not that he doesn’t often smile, but this was a “You guys sound amazing!” smile.
The concert began with a bang. Sherry directed us in Oh
Also in the mix were show tunes (a medley of music from Porgy & Bess), songs from classic WWII movies (“Dam Busters” and “The Great Escape”) and of course some stalwart marches. We played a tribute to the navy with the unbelievably high (for we clarinets) “On the Quarterdeck,” and to the army with the fun march “Argandab,” in which we clarinets get to be “chirpy little birds.” (Not really, but that was the description…)
During the concert our bandmaster introduced each piece with the stories he is famous for, both on stage and off. As he elicited laughter from the audience and band alike I wondered if the audience had any idea that they were being treated to just a taste of what our practices are like each week. I wondered, too, if they knew how much fun we were having tonight. I thought of times when I was in the audience. I listened to the music and enjoyed it, but I never gave a thought to those performing. My mind drifted to the years before I joined the band when I found band concerts difficult to sit through. I loved the music, but I so longed to be on stage performing with the band that listening to them brought an ache to my heart.
My wandering took me back to the days when my family attended the Christmas concerts put on by this very band and every time I left with that sad ache in my heart to join them. I had no idea what a big part they were to become in my life. My trumpet player told me I could join the band. But life was so busy, the kids were in sports, I had all the excuses. But really I was just leery of committing another night each week and, well, I was too shy to go alone.
I remember the September day when my trumpet player e-mailed me with the bandmaster’s invitation that was widely distributed on the base, saying simply, “Shall we join?” I remember the thrill that brought to me. Our daughter had begun babysitting the other children a few months before that, leaving us free to go out together. He e-mailed the bandmaster, who welcomed us to come even with both of us very rusty. And we were rusty! I hadn’t played my clarinet more than twice in 25 years!
But we went. And never looked back. That first practice as I sat at the end of the front row, I remember thinking how horrible I was and that for the first time in my somewhat perfectionist life I was the worst musician in the room! But I didn’t care. I was back in a band! I am not normally an emotional person, but that night my eyes teared up as I listened to all the parts being played all around me. I had forgotten how amazing it is to sit in a band and be part of the music. The caliber of musician in this band is high – much higher than I will ever attain – and it is a privilege to play with them.
My mind drifted to all of this as I sat on the stage listening to the bandmaster’s masterful storytelling, and as I played the music that was now so familiar. Sometimes it’s good to look back because it reminds us of how blessed we are.
One of my favourite pieces tonight was Superman. We played a terrific arrangement, a medley of pieces from the Superman movies. The sinister bass clarinet and low brass sounded eerie. The gradual swells in volume were effective. You could feel the excitement in the air as we played. I think I even gave that nasty throat note the extra kick our bandmaster tried endlessly to elicit from the clarinets. But my favourite few bars – a section that you can really hear my part – I completely blew. Rats. I don’t think I’ve ever messed those bars up before. They have some tricky fingering, but they’re really not difficult. And I love them. And I mucked them. Rats. But by the time the piece was nearing its end the disappointment was lost. The ending was amazing and that’s what people will remember.
I should report on one more thing. If anyone reading my blog also knows me on Face Book, you will, I am sure, be anxiously waiting to hear if I mastered the Luftwaffe March (from the movie “The Battle of Britain,” affectionately referred to by me as that Waffle March) or if it mastered me. After practicing it almost exclusively for the past couple of weeks, I had really wanted to be able to say that I pulled it off with perfection. Unfortunately I did stumble on one section, but it was not the hardest section. And after that flub I paid closer attention and pulled the rest of the piece off with the desired perfection. I think I have earned the right to call my clarinet the Spitfire. (When I stated that I WOULD conquer this march, my musical nemesis, the bandmaster commented that just like the RAF conquered the Luftwaffe in WWII, I would conquer the march. He suggested that I could name my clarinet the Spitfire, but I knew I couldn’t do that until I had, indeed, conquered the march.)
At the end of the evening we played a beautiful hymn called, “The Airman’s Prayer” while a retired WWII veteran recited the poem “High Flight.” It was a beautiful and fitting end to the evening.
Following this we played the march that we play virtually every time we play, the Air Force March Past. We end every concert with this march, but I have never seen what I saw tonight. Tonight as we played with more fervour than we’ve ever given this piece before, the audience stood. Gradually I began to hear them clapping in time to the music. I have written before on how much a musician appreciates his music being appreciated, but this was unprecedented, at least in my three years with the band. It was as if the audience knew that this night was special.
When we finished the bandmaster gave his bow and turned to motion to us to stand. The people applauded and remained standing, so the bandmaster and singers returned and we played, as an encore, the last part of “A Whole New World.” Now, I was already getting a bit teary from the Air Force March Past. It was painfully evident to all of us that this was our bandmaster & his wife’s last concert, and it is no secret that they will be dearly missed. But when the singers began to sing “a whole new world…” I realized that when they leave it will be a whole new world for our band. A world with a new bandmaster, a new chapter in the life of the 4 Wing Band. I quickly pushed that thought out of my head so that I could see the music before me and continued to play.
When we finished the bandmaster bowed again and the band stood. When the singers bowed we applauded them. When the bandmaster invited his wife to join him in front of the band and the audience applauded them, whoops and shouts were heard above the increasing volume of the applause coming from the band. I have only been in this band for 3 years, so I am sure there are those that will find saying good bye even more difficult than I, but of all that the band has meant to me in those three years, Jeff & Sherry have been a large part. I know we’ll say it again before they leave, but you two will be very sorely missed.
The audience would not be placated with the end of “A Whole New World.” They wanted a whole new piece! So the bandmaster turned and said, “Let’s go out with a bang!” and then said, “Zoot Suit Riot!” Groans may have been slightly audible from the clarinet section. There are very few pieces in our folder that I don’t like. A couple that are just thin arrangements and one or two that have horrible clarinet parts. But this one…well, it’s a fun piece and I can see why people like to listen to it and why certain sections like to play it, but let me just say one word: Loud.
When we play Zoot Suit at a mess dinner we in the front row have a ringing in our ears for a half hour afterwards. It begins with a big, loud drum solo, then the trumpets take over. It is crazy loud. Tonight we had 6 trumpets. I think that says it all. Fortunately for the clarinets there were enough of us that even those of us near the middle of the front row were a fair ways over on the other side of the stage. And the auditorium was large enough so the sound had somewhere to go (unlike some of the smaller venues we play in). So what can I say? The crowd loved it. The back half of the band loved it. Two of us didn’t have music – we had removed the concert music from our folder and left the 1st clarinet folder off-stage. So the second clarinet gave us his and he played with the third. It was interesting playing second and remembering part of the first part. Kind of fun to see how much I could remember and switch back and forth from what I was reading to what I was remembering. And nobody could hear me anyway!
It was a big, full end to an amazing evening. I doubt this evening will ever be topped. The concert felt like the end of something. But it really wasn’t. Our job as a band continues. Next week is a mess dinner. The week after that there’s a parade or two. Summer is a busy season with parades all through July and August. And now that I have gotten the story of this incredible evening out of my system and down on “paper” I can head upstairs and hopefully I will sleep. It will be tough, though, with the strange “tune,” if it can be called a tune, of Zoot Suit in my head. Thanks, Jeff.
