This is a journey of another type, written in spring 2018, a year after we all started learning to play instruments. Enjoy!
________________________
Brass bands are full of families. Often, it’s parents who play (and maybe met through music), who then take their children along ... and so down through the generations.
Our family is slightly different. None of us had played an instrument before other than a school recorder (in my case, nearly 40 years ago). Never enough money for instruments or lessons when I grew up. For husband Dave, the musical talent mostly went to his brother (skilled percussionist, pianist and the church’s regular organist from age 11). We instead gravitated towards sports and academic effort, which is how we met.
A year ago, hovering around mid-life (still active and fit, but beginning to creak!), with two girls aged 7 and 9, we took it into our heads to join our local brass band.
We’d always liked brass music. Slow and soft harmonies are challenging technically, but I prefer it fast and loud. Throw in some percussion, especially cymbals, and my arms get goose-bumps. A gong may make me spontaneously combust (messy, but luckily brass bands don’t use them).
I well remember the mortifying experience of Dave marching us to a draughty supermarket foyer one Christmas shortly after student days so we could stand for an hour and hear the local brass band for free. Sometime later, we paid for an actual performance (with real seats!). Their new, young conductor was performing publicly for the first time, shaking with nerves. Perhaps unrelated, but we did notice an interval change of trousers!
A big attraction is that, no matter how skilled or otherwise, brass bands seem completely down-to-earth. When performing, the conductor always introduces each piece with a little spiel, so you know what’s next and when to clap ... unlike a classical symphony orchestra where there’s a certain status to ‘knowing everything’ already. (Although I’m now suspicious the brass spiel is just to give the players a short breather.)
Anyway, a weekday evening, spring 2017 ... we made our way to the band’s pleasant, unassuming venue to try out some instruments. We were allowed to try several, to see which seemed most natural and suited, and then take away an instrument each on loan the same day, free of charge.
Really, I wanted a drum or cymbal to bash about on. But, if I had to blow something, then it would be big and loud. (I’m strong, with good lungs.) So ... I ended up with the smallest instrument, a cornet. My daughters got bigger instruments than me (the smaller the child, the bigger the instrument), so I predicted an inverse relationship and that Dave would get a tin whistle. He got a euphonium. (One of the biggest instruments, but not as big as a tuba, ha!)
Of course, body size turns out not to be the main factor in deciding the best instrument to learn on. Rather, it is your embouchure (the way you apply your mouth). Since it is mostly youngsters who get the cornet, I take this to mean I have a petite mouth and firm, youthful lips.
My earliest playing attempts weren’t at all caterwauling. No. Initially, I barely produced a sound. It was just red face, breathlessness and near-collapse. When I finally aspired to caterwauling, my parents encouragingly commented, “That bit was O.K., that short bit, just then.” Thanks, guys, that bit was two bars’ rest.
The four of us developed at our own pace during the year, and soon moved up from the beginners’ band to the training band, although the main concert band is still a very long way off. I was a painful starter, but, with regular practice and commitment, things finally clicked and I caught up with the other three (and like to think I play better than them sometimes*), though we all have good and bad days. My personal mile-markers were finding out it’s a ‘raspberry’ not a ‘blow’, finally working out what to do with my tongue to control the air flow, and envisioning eating a hot chip to get a steady high note. Sometime soon, I’ll even start glancing at that chap up front waving the little stick instead of being fixated on my music sheet.
Joining a brass band has been one of our best decisions. Such a warm welcome, feeling of inclusivity and personal challenge: what a way to dispel those mid-life blues! Joining with our children made it even more special – mutual support and gentle competitiveness at home, and so much easier to nag the kids to practice (and hear those off-notes) when going through the same process yourself.
You can do it too!
________________________
* July 2019: At the present time, we are all developing once again at our own pace. Our eldest daughter is showing definite promise on the Eb tenor horn, our youngest is improving steadily on the baritone horn and Dave is getting chance to demonstrate his growing confidence on the euphonium. On cornet, I’ve occasionally had chance to perform the lead part in a family piece outside the band (and risen well to the challenge), but have to work hard to learn new pieces and, within the band, seem destined to life at the bottom as a 3rd cornet. Sometimes, the noise I make is really quite acceptable, even, dare I say it, pleasant. Other times, I swear that what I put in at one end isn’t what’s coming out at the other. Rumour has it that a special, silent 5th cornet part is being developed just for me. I still love being in the band: playing the notes, trying to get the dynamics and style right, seeing how long I can last evenly on one breath, getting better at counting the rest bars (so numerous for 3rd cornet), but also the togetherness and teamwork involved. It really is hard to beat.
Comentários