Skip to main content

Scary Music on the Stand

I'm taking a brief break from horn lessons while my teacher vacations in Florida and does whatever else he does when he isn't teaching, but while I'm waiting for a lesson in June, I am supposed to be buying new music. The man didn't tell me what, exactly—he just said to go buy stuff.

I found a list of essential pieces every horn player at a certain skill level should know, and I chose three things pretty much sight unseen. Well, one of them arrived just yesterday, and I'm thinking I overshot my skill level. Holy moly.

For the last couple of weeks, I have been playing through things I keep on my music stand all the time—Strauss' Nocturno because it's beautiful, Vinter's Hunter's Moon because it's spritely and an emotional antidote to the Nocturno, the Beethoven sonata, Mozart concertos and other things I enjoy playing even if I will not allow anyone else to listen in. On some level, I can handle the notes and rhythms and tempos (sort of) on every piece in the collection, but now I've contaminated my stash with something new that looks daunting.

I have Gabelles' Concertino, and when I look at the first page, I see too much black and not enough white on the paper. It's got lots of sixteenth notes and notations I'll have to look up, and it's all so unfamiliar. I'm considering sticking this thing at the back of my stack of music and not telling my teacher I bought it. What Concertino?

Or maybe I should just suck it up, accept the challenge and chip away at the stupid thing one measure at a time. Sometimes after I hear a recording of a piece that seems intimidating on the surface, it suddenly sounds less unapproachable, so I suppose I should look for it on iTunes. I'm hoping the other things I ordered won't be so difficult, but then I won't be pushed as much as I need to be pushed, and I won't learn as much as I need to learn.

It's a conundrum. Should I hide the scary music or face it head on?

Afternoon update: OK, so it's not quite as bad as I thought. (feeling sheepish) Who would have thought a metronome would help?

Comments

kyle@sift said…
Face it head on! No doubt about it.
Shan said…
Ditto what Kyle said. This IS YOU we're talking about right. I have full confidence.
Magpie said…
Good luck with it!
Burn it and never mention it again.
Scout said…
Kyle, but it's hard.

Shan, I'm just looking at it and thinking I should give it away.

Magpie, thanks.

Richard, you're supposed to provide brass-playing support! I'm surprised at you.
kyle@sift said…
They're just notes. You can do it. Mary Had a Little Lamb was difficult when you first played it, right?
'too much black' lol.... Just take a little black at a time, I would, perfect that, feel pleased with it and move on to the next tiny bit of black. :)

Popular posts from this blog

Am I Stupid, or What?

In two weeks, I will climb up into a charter bus, take my assigned seat, and ride 22 hours straight to Orlando, Florida. I will be a chaperon with the high school marching band, which will perform at Disney's Magic Kingdom--me and 180 people on four big buses for seven days. We will travel together, eat together, play together, fall down exhausted together--and after 22 hours, I suspect stink to high heaven together. Because of the crazy schedule, we will leave Ohio at 6 pm, travel all night and most of the next day, and spend several hours at MGM Studios before ending up at the hotel sometime after 7 pm. After I check in with the eight girls I am to supervise, I intend to shower and shower and shower. I intend to wear clean clothes and socks and brush my teeth until my toothbrush wears out. Of all the things I could be concerned about on this trip, being dirty seems to weigh heaviest on my mind. One of my eight charges could run off and do bad things with her boyfriend, but I'...

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...

An Offending Pile

So, I'm standing in my living room letting my mind wander for a minute or two as I stare out the window and watch the day go by, and I see my neighbors walking their dogs down the street. They are nice neighbors who are always friendly and responsible with their property. That is to say they aren't like the other neighbors who heap rubbish behind their house like Ma and Pa Kettle and let their dogs bark for thirty minutes at a time . Anyway, I see the nice people walking their dogs, a big golden retriever who is as sweet as can be and as dumb as a post—he once ate a sock and nearly died before it was surgically removed—and a new golden retriever puppy. Then I see Neighbor Wife suddenly run down the street with the big dog. Then I see Neighbor Husband stopped in front of my house with the puppy on its leash. And then I see the puppy taking a huge dump in my grass. Let me tell you, that is not done in this town unless the dog owner has a plastic bag handy and is ready to pick up ...