Copyright 2004 Ben S. Pollock
Wednesday 18 February 2004. Monday night at community band, the euphonium section sat beside the trombones. It was just one baritone player, and she looked unfamiliar. I introduced myself. This was indeed her first night with the Arkansas Winds. She sat by us because that’s where baris traditionally sit; no one told her Ark Winds puts the 1-2-member section in its own row behind the ‘bones, by the door.
I felt at home sitting by a euphonium player. In junior and senior high, I played baritone (three valves) then euphonium (a fourth valve to correct the tuning of the 1-3 fingering (but experts would note wider bore etc.). I was good. This young woman the other night might have been a hair better than I was in my day (for the Stanford Band, I switched to a valve trombone because it was louder and ‘bone parts were more fun on the field).
In my day. That means less and more. Less, in that most of my contemporaries have fully dropped whatever school activities they enjoyed and even excelled in. I’m still playing in a wind band. I’ve added to my music inclination by learning to play recorder, owning soprano, alto and tenor instruments; taking lessons and playing in the Bella Vista Consort when time allows, which last was just over a year ago. But the recorders and their books still are out in my Poet’s Corner on the sunporch, as are the trombone and music stands.
Think of all the jocks. Those that stay physically active in their mid-40s sure ain’t playing tackle football or hurling shotputs in the yard.
In my day, the "more" section: That girl could sight-read. Our band’s main euphonium player — she was there while he recuperated from surgery — has a better tone, but hers certainly serviceable. But the jump-in-and-help role she took demanded sight-reading, which she excelled at. I bet she made All-State in high school. I never did: I panicked in the audition, learning in college a bit on overcoming shyness, faking bravado.
In my day I had a little better tone than her and only when fully rested and much practiced would I sight-read like this person (still a college student?).
Baritone playing comes up because her playing was directly in my right ear. Just like when I was in high school, sat first chair and heard Sue Doshier’s horn in my right ear (she was as good as me and sometimes sat first). Baritones may not have the top parts in a score but very often they have unique parts, rhythms and countermelodies, that make them stand out. In an orchestra similarly, the cello often gets to "noodle" in and out of the melodies and themes. The cello stands out only when you listen for it. That’s the same for the baritone; think of its countermelody in the march "Colonel Bogey."
And years ago I let baritone-playing go. We all let things go. Should I let go of the career I have been plying for 23-24 years? Should I let go of writing aspirations? Or painting hopes? I’ve not been damaged by dropping baritone-playing. Other things have taken its place. Cooking. Owning cats. Being married.
But to be good at something, that’s marvelous. You don’t have to be great. Mediocre is a waste of time. What other victories, superiorities have I left behind, forgotten, dismissed as unimportant? They’re all important, if remembered. They support the future.
When I get money I’ll buy a nice 2nd-hand euphonium and play it in community band. -30-
