In an attempt to avoid thinking about the tragedy that was the English midterm I endured today, I figured I could spend some time dwelling on the tragedy that was last night's rehearsal. With it being the first rehearsal of the second part of the season, I didn't have high hopes, fortunately. (It really wasn't as bad as it sounds; I'm just still feeling a sore spot from the selections of repertoire we're going to be doing.) The pieces we should be playing, if I remember correctly, and Wikipedia will help me here, are Offenbach's La Belle Helene Overture; Beethoven's Turkish March (not sure what opus, I don't trust Google); Bellini's Norma Overture; Berlioz' Hungarian March; and something else beginning with "Erin", whose composer's first name is Ernesto, but Google is failing to help in this endeavor as well.
There are a couple things from last semester that are still in our folders, none of which I'm terribly thrilled about. There is one, though; A Gluck overture that I've become fond of despite myself. I can't remember the name, though, and even Wikipedia's lengthy list of Gluck's operas isn't triggering any bells. Once I remember, I'll update this post and edit this section.
I think that to an audience, the pieces aren't that bad, save the Ernesto thing that is fine until it gets to a fugue-like section that just makes me want to cry. If the audience wants oboe solos, however, they'll be sorely disappointed. A little one in the Offenbach, and that's all. I'm slightly disappointed after last semester, which was more like an oboe concerto concert than an orchestral one. I was getting used to the attention. (And yes, I realize how narcissistic that sounds, and I've decided that I don't really care.)
We had a complete train wreck during the Berlioz, but everything else went fine. I had a passive aggressive moment during (I think it was) the Offenbach, after having started and stopped and started and stopped so many times it seemed like he was turning into my school orchestra conductor - which is not a good thing. He, after a seeming-eternity of this, he decided one section wasn't clean enough, and slowed us down. I normally wouldn't complain. It was pretty sloppy, what with how many flutes and clarinets we have (an abominable number). But, we already were going really, really, really slow. Taking it down to grave, and then gravissimo as there was a slight pull because it was so damn slow, was just a mite excessive. Then, he slowed down further, to the point where the skeletons and corpses in everybody's closets were complaining that it needed more vivacity.
I retaliated by playing every note I had a half step higher than written.
He never noticed.
There are a couple things from last semester that are still in our folders, none of which I'm terribly thrilled about. There is one, though; A Gluck overture that I've become fond of despite myself. I can't remember the name, though, and even Wikipedia's lengthy list of Gluck's operas isn't triggering any bells. Once I remember, I'll update this post and edit this section.
I think that to an audience, the pieces aren't that bad, save the Ernesto thing that is fine until it gets to a fugue-like section that just makes me want to cry. If the audience wants oboe solos, however, they'll be sorely disappointed. A little one in the Offenbach, and that's all. I'm slightly disappointed after last semester, which was more like an oboe concerto concert than an orchestral one. I was getting used to the attention. (And yes, I realize how narcissistic that sounds, and I've decided that I don't really care.)
We had a complete train wreck during the Berlioz, but everything else went fine. I had a passive aggressive moment during (I think it was) the Offenbach, after having started and stopped and started and stopped so many times it seemed like he was turning into my school orchestra conductor - which is not a good thing. He, after a seeming-eternity of this, he decided one section wasn't clean enough, and slowed us down. I normally wouldn't complain. It was pretty sloppy, what with how many flutes and clarinets we have (an abominable number). But, we already were going really, really, really slow. Taking it down to grave, and then gravissimo as there was a slight pull because it was so damn slow, was just a mite excessive. Then, he slowed down further, to the point where the skeletons and corpses in everybody's closets were complaining that it needed more vivacity.
I retaliated by playing every note I had a half step higher than written.
He never noticed.
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