Well, for a week that started out pretty sourly, it's gotten better. ... in the last few hours, at least. I just finished a great practice where I finished up with the Yvon English horn sonata, which I haven't played in several months (or, possibly, a year or so). It sounded great, and I sure got a kick out of it. The presto at the end was nearly 100% there, and I'm just wowing my own pants off.
In other news, I changed the solo I'll be playing for my Juilliard pre-college audition to the Mozart Concerto in C (obviously, for oboe). I know it better than the Vaughan Williams, for one. But, the main reason for me switching was how they, Juilliard, requested two contrasting movements from "a" concerto or sonata, as opposed to two contrasting movements that are not necessarily from the same piece. The Vaughan Williams is pretty much the same throughout in terms of mood; it doesn't have a distinguished slow, sustained movement. Therefore, the Mozart it is.
Anyway, enough technical talk. Let me now explain to you why I now find the band that I generally can only bitch and moan about to be something of a godsend.
My band director allows upperclassmen to play with the freshman band that he also conducts to receive lesson credits. (We need 5 lesson credits per quarter, or 10 per semester. Usually, a lesson entails an entire period of listening to the director ramble on about scales, or syncopation, or how much he wants kids to learn to read music rather than just play what they hear the good people play, rather than actually working on the music with them .. they're a source of angst among a lot of the people I know in the class.) This is the notorious freshman band that was a complete and utter disaster last band concert that took place before, I think, I'd started this blog.
I'll keep it simple: they had to stop and restart the pieces three times, possibly four. It was atrocious, or so I've heard: I decided against actually going backstage and listening with the majority of the upperclassmen. I don't regret that decision.
Anyway, they don't seem to have much improved. From what my flutist friend and I have discovered, the incoming freshmen-to-be-sophomores lack rhythm, counting, intonation, balance ... the one thing they have no shortage of, however, is noise.
I'll try and be nice here, though; I don't want to be antagonistic (even though I think it's too late for me to start now).
I was sitting across from the clarinet section, unlike my usual position square in front of the conductor. Boy, was that weird. It didn't help that I didn't know a single one of the clarinets in the front row, although I think I know one of their mothers. (The girl looked familiar; most likely some Girl Scouts connection that I never really paid attention to.) One of them, every time I happened to glance at her, was looking straight back at me, and had this sort of expression that made me feel like I was just condemned to the deepest rings of hell. I don't know what it was about it, or why it was directed at me, and maybe it's just her blank look (in which case I feel pretty bad for saying that), but it was unnerving. I was tempted to offer a smile, but then I remembered that I was supposed to be a snooty and skilled upperclassman and kept my mouth tight around my reed. (That was sarcasm.)
All in all, I was beyond relieved when it was finally time for class to be over and upperclassmen band came in. I'm fairly sure that, with the exception of the beginning of my freshman year (I was exempted from taking freshman band; they wanted an oboe with the upperclassmen), this was the first time I was completely, 100% grateful to hear the group play.
Music to my ears.
In other news, I changed the solo I'll be playing for my Juilliard pre-college audition to the Mozart Concerto in C (obviously, for oboe). I know it better than the Vaughan Williams, for one. But, the main reason for me switching was how they, Juilliard, requested two contrasting movements from "a" concerto or sonata, as opposed to two contrasting movements that are not necessarily from the same piece. The Vaughan Williams is pretty much the same throughout in terms of mood; it doesn't have a distinguished slow, sustained movement. Therefore, the Mozart it is.
Anyway, enough technical talk. Let me now explain to you why I now find the band that I generally can only bitch and moan about to be something of a godsend.
My band director allows upperclassmen to play with the freshman band that he also conducts to receive lesson credits. (We need 5 lesson credits per quarter, or 10 per semester. Usually, a lesson entails an entire period of listening to the director ramble on about scales, or syncopation, or how much he wants kids to learn to read music rather than just play what they hear the good people play, rather than actually working on the music with them .. they're a source of angst among a lot of the people I know in the class.) This is the notorious freshman band that was a complete and utter disaster last band concert that took place before, I think, I'd started this blog.
I'll keep it simple: they had to stop and restart the pieces three times, possibly four. It was atrocious, or so I've heard: I decided against actually going backstage and listening with the majority of the upperclassmen. I don't regret that decision.
Anyway, they don't seem to have much improved. From what my flutist friend and I have discovered, the incoming freshmen-to-be-sophomores lack rhythm, counting, intonation, balance ... the one thing they have no shortage of, however, is noise.
I'll try and be nice here, though; I don't want to be antagonistic (even though I think it's too late for me to start now).
I was sitting across from the clarinet section, unlike my usual position square in front of the conductor. Boy, was that weird. It didn't help that I didn't know a single one of the clarinets in the front row, although I think I know one of their mothers. (The girl looked familiar; most likely some Girl Scouts connection that I never really paid attention to.) One of them, every time I happened to glance at her, was looking straight back at me, and had this sort of expression that made me feel like I was just condemned to the deepest rings of hell. I don't know what it was about it, or why it was directed at me, and maybe it's just her blank look (in which case I feel pretty bad for saying that), but it was unnerving. I was tempted to offer a smile, but then I remembered that I was supposed to be a snooty and skilled upperclassman and kept my mouth tight around my reed. (That was sarcasm.)
All in all, I was beyond relieved when it was finally time for class to be over and upperclassmen band came in. I'm fairly sure that, with the exception of the beginning of my freshman year (I was exempted from taking freshman band; they wanted an oboe with the upperclassmen), this was the first time I was completely, 100% grateful to hear the group play.
Music to my ears.
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