Take No Prisoners

**This post is WAAAAAAY geeky. Don't say I didn't warn you.**

Kopprasch: Delighting Horn Players for Years!

I just ordered the Kopprasch Sixty Studies, Opus 5, for high horn. Not to be confused with the epic tome "Sixty Studies for Horn." The high horn etudes are not for the faint of heart. I bought them mostly to work on my descant skills (which are lacking), but just finished plowing through one on my double horn. Hilarity, folks. Hilarity.

I've adopted a new approach to practicing lately. I realized that I stay mostly in my comfort zone and don't really work on the things that actually need work. So I'm working on playing like the CPO "Under 30, No Kids, Cool Crowd" mantra:

Go Big, or Go Home!

It is nearly impossible to play these "new" Kopprasch etudes without "going big." It's like Kopprasch on crack. I'm sure they were much more manageable with some little cor alto, but on the double horn... whew. They lay quite nicely on the descant... but its like being able to play the Hornsignal or Brandenburg 1 on double horn. It is a matter of personal pride to actually be able to do it, but may God have mercy on all of us if you ever actually had to PERFORM it on a double horn.

Fun things to do with descant horn: Play pedal tones. Mess around with half-valve combos, especially given the piston thumb valve on mine. Play Bach. (Its way easier.) Play Haydn. (Also way easier.) Mess with stopping valve combinations. Realize you are actually blogging about your descant horn and end blogpost immediately.

Finding Family

My "blogfriends" are listed on the sidebar of my blog: those are the blogs that I check every day. Its sort of like picking up the phone to find out how everyone is doing, but instead, I don't have to actually make conversation with anyone. And yes, I check their blogs every day. For those with statcounter, they know this. And the rest of them can discern it from the comments I leave. One of the interesting things about this group is that they are primarily friends from my time in graduate school at the University of Wisconsin - Madison. And, yeah, most of them are horn players. They are the ones to whom the geeky horn posts are directed.

Day, Spot, Clara, BhornK, and myself all call different places "home" although they mostly hail from America's Heartland. (Or as us Coasties call it, "Flyover Country"). One of the interesting things we have in common (besides wrestling with the horn on a daily basis) is that we are all currently living pretty far from home. None of us seems to have made it home for Thanksgiving this year, but we all seem to think that its one of the greatest holidays that America has to offer. And it seems to have thrown all of us into a contemplative state of thinking about what we want to give thanks for.

Day in New York City said, "Having a small taste of the wonderfulness of living and eating and sharing with a big group of friends was a vivid reminder of how lucky I am to have had such fortune in the past."

Spot in Valencia, Spain, said, "I'm still not totally certain where the road is going, but I'm grateful to have walked it thus far with so many wonderful people."

Clara in Merida, Mexico, said, "...Spend the evening with a great group of people. I'm expecting a lot of intelligent comments, engaging conversation, and laughing. Really-the people here are rad." (Extra points to Clara for using the retro word 'rad.')

BhornK in Hamburg, Germany, said (a bit more tongue in cheek): "....but as a last comment for the holiday of giving thanks, I give thanks for not only being able to make music, but also some cash! hehe."

And Kamp, in Iowa, for this, I thank you: "Hope everyone has a happy holiday and for those expatriate readers out there who won't be making it back home I'll have an extra serving of stuffing, an extra glass of wine and hug my mom extra hard for you all."


Times are changing. We don't have children, spouses, in-laws, and all of those things that our parents likely had when they were in their twenties. So we're finding family where we can, piecing our lives together bit by bit, as best as we know how. And like some famous person said at some point in some famous place, "Wherever you go, it is your friends that make your world." For as saccharine and sappy as this post may be, I just want to go on blog-record as saying that I'm really proud of how everyone seems to be chiseling out a life for themselves. Way to go, guys.

I'm freeing my _________ off!

I've always wanted to do a madlibs-type blogpost. So here it is. Have fun!

***
1) number
2) expletive
3) article of clothing
4) expletive
5) expletive
6) body part
7) expletive
8) adjective
9) body part
10) adverb
11) number
12) noun
13) adverb
14) adverb
15) adjective
16) adverb

When I woke up this morning my Google homepage said that it was (1) degree outside! "(2)," I thought to myself. I'd better wear an extra pair of (3). As I walked to the bus stop, I thought, "(4), it is really (5) cold out here." I realized that my (6) were starting to freeze. When the (7) bus finally arrived, I was (8). As the bus turned south on Centre Street, I could see steam rising from every building downtown. As I walked to work, I thought my (9) were going to fall off. When I opened my horn case, my horn was extremely (10). My face was so cold, it took (11) minutes to warm up. Luckily, I only had to play (12) on Tannhauser, so it wasn't terribly (13). The Berlioz was a little more (14), but I got over it.

On my way home, I realized that living in Canada is a little (15) sometimes. Despite that, though, it is (16) living here.

When life hands you lemons...

As you all know, Reader(s), I'm really happy here. I just had a kick-ass Thanksgiving get-together, I found out that I got accepted to do a one week residency here, (beats the hell out of hanging out in lonely Calgary, not playing the Messiah!), and things at work are going pretty well.

Unfortunately, though, I seem to be a relationship leper. I thought I found someone who was everything I wanted: smart, talented, hilarious.... but it turns out that I'm not worthy of the small commitment necessary to sustain a burgeoning relationship. I'm not talking about joint checking accounts or houses: I'm talking about saying "Yeah, I'm not going to have sex with anyone but you." Certainly, a big first step in actually sustaining a relationship with another person, but as far as commitment goes, not that big. I know I'm not asking too much. I know I deserve that much.

So to preserve my dignity, I ended it. And my dignity might be in tact, but that doesn't mean that I'm not about to dissolve into a big puddle on the floor. What's wrong with me? Seriously... if any of you can come up with anything, I'd really like to hear it because I just can't figure it out.

Leftovers.

So. Much. Pie.

Not that I'm complaining. The best thing about holidays has to be the leftovers. No, that's not true. The best thing about my makeshift Thanksgiving dinner was the company. I can't remember a holiday that I enjoyed so much. And I hate holidays.

***

In other news, if anyone ever offers you a job in Canada, you should think long and hard about taking it. There's nothing particularly wrong with Canada, per say. Friendly people, beautiful country, etc. Hell, I love it here! But the logistics of moving to a "different country" will haunt you for a good long time. Now its my car. I figured I could just keep it registered and insured in PA... not so much. Its not the registration, because as they told me when I crossed the border,I'm here temporarily, so I don't need to switch to Alberta plates. But I do need insurance, just from a practical standpoint. And in order to be insured, you need to have Alberta plates. And you need to surrender your PA drivers license. And you need to import your car. And you need to have an Alberta inspection. And guess what? These things are not free. If I move back to the States, I just have to pay all of the reverse fees, so its not like I'm paying them once... I'm paying them TWICE. Because I'll have to import my car to the USA, change my insurance back, change my license back, and get it inspected AGAIN.

And Canada isn't even that different than the USA!! Sure, they are more socialist and some of them speak French, but really! Its America-Lite! Its Diet-America! Lo-Cal-USA! Its not like I moved to Romania or something! For living in a different country, it really isn't that different! I can still have my pick of 18 different types of OJ in the supermarket (even if one on the box is in French) and I can still drive on the right-hand side of the road. I can still eat at McDonalds and buy shitty shit at Wal-Mart! I might end most of my sentences with "eh?" now, but that's just funny! Its not really that different!

Dear Canada, You aren't that different! I therefore should not be pulling my hair out about my automobile! *sigh* Opinions on the car conundrum, Reader(s)? Do I take my chances and tell the insurance company I'm just visiting if anything bad happens, or do I pay more than a month's salary for all this crap "just in case?" Help me.

I'm going to go eat some pie and think about it.

Giving Thanks

In this week's installment of "Things I Find Funny About Canada" I will talk about my most favoritest of holidays: Thanksgiving.

Now, those of you who know me know that I hate holidays. Mostly, I think they are stupid, commercial, and dumb. The only holiday I've ever liked is Thanksgiving. I think it's because it hasn't been bastardized by Hallmark, there's very little about it that is "commercial," and the point of it is to hang with the family, eat as much food as you can in a 24 hour period, and then eat leftovers until Christmas. And speaking of Christmas, Thanksgiving in the States is the official "start" of the holiday season.

Canadian Thanksgiving occurs in early October, and rather than being about pilgrims, it seems to have centered more around "harvest." It came and went with little fanfare here. There wasn't obsessive talk about family gatherings or how big the turkey was going to be; it seemed to be a much smaller affair. And not that there's anything wrong with that, but it seemed to be lacking in the "excess" of its American equivalent.

So without the late-November celebration, it appears that the Christmas season has arrived. There are already Santa Clauses in malls, the trees are up, and there's already talk about Christmas. I'm not saying that there aren't tacky Christmas decorations already plaguing the yards of my hometown in rural Pennsylvania, but the focus of conversations right now are most definitely more centered on the poundage of the Thanksgiving Turkey than on finding the right gift for Gramma.

To alleviate this, though, I will be hosting a Thanksgiving celebration of my own tomorrow for myself and twelve other people. Never mind that I've been a vegetarian since I was 10 and don't have the first clue on how to cook a turkey; never mind that I've never had a dinner party for 13 before; never mind that I'm not exactly sure how to time it all out so that dinner is served when the turkey is finished (around 4 by my calculations).... its going to be AWESOME. I do have help in this endeavor. My friends are all bringing food and beverages, andd JW is mostly in charge of the bird, so I don't have to do too much with that. I'm VERY excited.

So as I have been frantically baking pies and bread, wondering how long it'll take to peel 10 lbs. of potatoes, wondering if the turkey is ever going to defrost in time, I've been thinking about what I have. And what the point of Thanksgiving has always been, and why I've always thought it is the greatest holiday.

I've been a little down the last few days and I think its because I've been thinking too much about money, and things that I don't have, and about what's missing. I miss my old friends, I wish I could pay off my student loans, I wish I was in better financial shape... And I realized today that even though I owe the government more money than I can really comprehend, the silverware definitely won't match tomorrow, and the tablecloth is about 6 inches too short, its not about what I don't have: it is about what I do have. Sure, there are things I want, goals I'm still working toward, and loans to pay off. But I feel very fortunate to be where I am, doing what I'm doing.

So to get myself out of this "funk" I'm in, I'm just going to think about what I have. Isn't that the point? They don't call it Thanks-taking or Thanks-grumbling or Complaint-giving.


Best. Holiday. Ever.

"This is what its like to play the horn"

So, I've been blogging about the gym lately. For those of you that are bored by that, I apologize, and I'll soon be back to my regularly scheduled blogging (making fun of Canadians, talking about my stupid antics, etc.) But today was so cool, its worth mentioning.

My trainer L and I did cardio bursts on a bike used for "spinning" classes (sometimes called a "revs" class or something to that extent). It was 10 minutes of pure awfulness. I did 30 seconds sitting with little resistance and then 30 seconds of uphill, high resistance pedaling. This, my friends, is very hard to do. Going as fast as you can, your heart will be pumping more than you really thought possible. The inclination is to quit. To get off the bike and fall over. But when your trainer is there with the stopwatch, being all encouraging and stuff, trust me, you don't want to lose face. (Half the point of personal training, by the way, is that you will push yourself more with another person there, "trying not to lose face".) By the 5th "hill" you want to shoot yourself. Oh, and each time, there's more resistance. So by the time you are the most tired, you are also doing the hardest part.

So in the fourth "hill" my trainer said, "You're doing really well! Most people quit and start puking at this point." And I smiled and said, "This is what its like to play the horn."

When I first said it, I was joking. But the more I thought about it, the more it was true, particularly when you think about something like Bruckner or Mahler. You sit for a good long time, then you pick up your horn and GO. Then you rest for awhile, or even just kinda "coast" downhill. Then it gets big again, and you aren't entirely sure you can keep going, but you do. You just have to concentrate and breathe. You don't have much of a choice, really: just concentrate and breathe. Focus and breathe.

Labels

So, as many of you know, I joined a gym. I used to turn up my nose at people who talked about "going to the gym." How silly, I thought. Why join a gym when you could just go outside and go for a walk? But weather being what it is here in Calgary, and in my search for a hobby, I decided it was time to join a gym. I have a trainer, who is awesome, and I go a few times a week for an ass-kicking. Its really educational; I've learned so much about lifting weights and the science behind it all, I'm really quite a convert. I'm not turning into a gym-rat or anything, and I don't think I'll be taking supplements or running any marathons anytime soon, but my body is in the best shape its ever been. My arms and abs have new tone to them, and my strength and endurance are beyond what I thought possible. My horn playing is vastly improved as a result, not only in my ability to use my air and take a full capacity breath, but I'm more focused and feel more centered when I play.

So yesterday, I took the "Five Minute Fitness Test" on the stationery bike. If any of you have ever done this, you know its painful. My trainer made me do it. Lord knows I never would've lasted on my own. Basically, the machine takes into account your age, weight, heart rate, and rpms and the determines what kind of physical shape you are in. I was fairly certain that the machine was going to read "You are a lazy lardass." I'm not going to lie... it was HARD. Probably the toughest five minutes of training I've done to date, and those skull-crushers aren't easy. Neither are the kettle-ball squats. But rather than telling me to give up and go home, the machine said, "Elite." ELITE?! What?!? I'm in the "elite" category? Wow! I had no idea!

I left the gym with an even greater sense of accomplishment than usual. Sometimes, you don't know what you are capable of until you try. I sound like a motivational poster, but its true. I've never been athletic. I've never been good at sports. I was always picked last in gym class, and I always sucked it up at those Presidential Physical Fitness Tests. But apparently I'm in far better shape than I imagined. This is a new sense of accomplishment for me-- physical accomplishment, rather than musical accomplishment. I like it. I'm going to stick with this.

Hobby

I practice a lot. I've got a lot of stuff I'm working on as far as horn playing goes.

I go to the gym pretty regularly, which is great and I'm really feeling good about that.

I'm reading a really great book (Winter's Tale by Mark Helprin, I'd highly recommend it).

I update my blog regularly.

I go out with friends and have a pretty satisfying social life.

I'm planning a Thanksgiving gathering and doing a lot of prep cooking this week (breads, desserts, etc) so baking is on the agenda.

But I need a hobby. Something that's not too hard to pick up and put down a lot, like crocheting. (I already know how to crochet. Most of you have a scarf from that period in my life. I'm done with crocheting for now.) Something not too expensive-- for as fun as skydiving looks, its a bit out of my budget for the time being. I have plans of learning to ski, but that's an "outside" activity. I'm looking for something that is more along the lines of "something to occupy my time when I'm at home, inside, in the winter." Oh yeah, and I'm seeing someone, so refrain from the sex jokes, si vous plait.

Ok, Reader(s), you have your criteria. Fire away.

Phone it in.

Quit phoning it in and just play it. Seriously, guys. It's Strauss. It deserves better than the rendering last night.

Rules for Northern Living.

New Rule For Rens: When you run errands or go to the gym, do not leave your horn in the trunk of the car. When it is -8 degrees celsius, it will take your horn awhile to thaw. When you pull it out of the case, it will be FREEZING. You'll be afraid that your lips will get stuck to the mouthpiece (like the tongue on the flagpole thing in grade school).

And get the snow tires put on your car BEFORE it snows. And when you forget to get the tires put on before it snows and your car is skidding around on the unplowed roads, just remember to STEER.

Any other recommendations for winter living and winter driving will be gratefully accepted, and possibly even heeded.

Day One.

Mount Royal College is a junior college here in Calgary that has a very reputable conservatory program. From what I understand its one of the best music programs in Western Canada (I'm not sure if its ok to joke about western Canada, given my readership...) At any rate, I've got no beef with this institution. Same with the University of Calgary.

Except that everyone seems to think that I'm a student there. Roughly three times a week I get asked if I'm a student. "Do you go to the U of C?" they ask. "Oh, are you a Mount Royal student?" they ask.

And what I want to say is this: "FOR FUCKS SAKE PEOPLE, DO I LOOK LIKE I'M 19 YEARS OLD? I HAVE A MASTER'S DEGREE AND HAVE DONE A POSTGRAD CERTIFICATE! I'VE WORKED MY ASS OFF IN A PRACTICE ROOM FOR YEARS TO GET WHERE I AM! DO YOU REALLY THINK I LOOK LIKE I'M RIGHT OUT OF HIGH SCHOOL?"

But what I actually say is this: "No, I'm in the CPO."

Now, in a few years, I'll be happy that people think I look seven years younger than I actually am. But I'm pretty happy being 26, and I'm ecstatic that I'm not 19. But I decided to be proactive when the CPO had stickers made for the musicians. Rather than putting my sticker on my car (which I don't drive that much anymore) I decided to attach it to my horn case. Perhaps, I thought, this would alert people to the fact that I'm not in school. After all, it does say "Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra" on it. Perhaps, since they can deduce that I play an instrument, they can also now deduce where I play it. Today was day one for this experiment.

It failed.

I was standing at the bus stop and some youngish (I'd say college age) girl asked me if I was on my way to school. And I said "No, I'm on my way to work. Thankfully, I'm done with school." And she says, "I'm going to school. Not high school, though."

Right. Glad we got that cleared up.

So as I'm sitting on the bus, I was thinking about age. I think there's something about "your twenties." You're too old to be young and you're too young to be old. Its like a no-mans land of ages.

I guess I can't take it too personally. Like I said, in a few years, if people are still asking me if I'm a student, I'll probably be thrilled. I still get IDed on occasion, which is sort of nice. And its not like there are a huge number of professional musicians in this town that people think you can actually make a living at it. (Actually, in this town, the jury is still out on that...) If I had to guess, I'd say that there definitely are more students musicians than freelancer and professional musicians around here. Statistically, their guess that I'm a student is more likely to be right.

But I'm not, thankfully, a student anymore. Please, please, please, stop asking.

So much to say, so little time.

Who am I kidding? I have the rest of the day off and all the time in the world. This could get long.

First, I'd like to start this post by giving the Democratic Party a big ol' pat on the back. Republicans, as this guy said, YOU GOT SERVED! Really, did you think you could win this time? All of your fuckups, all of your scandals, and all of your war-mongering, did you REALLY think you could win? You idiots, the American people have (for once) put their feet down. YOU SUCK! GO HOME!

And I'd like to thank Pennsylvanians for "wiping the floor with Santorum." I include myself among those privileged enough to vote against the guy. Granted, I didn't like Casey very much either, but sometimes, you just have to vote against something, rather than for someone.

And Donny Rumsfeld, goodbye. I will not miss you.
***

Enough about politics, lets talk about music! So, we're playing a piece this week called "War Machine Blues" by Canadian Andrew MacDonald. I can't decide if I like this piece or not because for the first half of rehearsal, the horns got stuck in the equivalent of a penalty box onstage. I couldn't hear anything that was happening, except for BH's hilarious giddiness regarding last night's election. After a few hilariously bad mishaps, BH turned to me, grinned, and said, "Mission Accomplished." After another few world-class kacks, he said, "You don't play this piece with the orchestra you want, you play it with the orchestra you have." Thankfully, we moved after the break to our regular spot onstage, and life became a little more normal.

What's an orchestral musician to complain about if not the shitty conductor? MB was music director here from 1984-1992. I feel bad for those musicians because he SUCKS. I can't hear a word he's saying, there is almost no beat pattern worth following, and if he has a worthwhile musical idea, he certainly isn't expressing it in a meaningful way. RM and I had a pool going to see how many times he was going to stop the lower strings during the opening of Death and Transfiguration.

Which leads me to my next relatively random rant: Playing Assistant (or Bumper, as they call it in Europe/Australia.) Now, as Associate Principal in a five horn section, it is likely that I could be playing bumper a lot more than I am. We are 10 weeks into the season, though, and this is the first time it has happened. I don't know anyone who really relishes playing Assistant. Its a tough job that is all guts and NO glory, and is often completely thankless. I will spend my week "pushing goose eggs" and counting rests as Rob skillfully plays the cool parts of Death and Transfiguration. However, the good thing about it? Its the best damn seat in the house, especially for a Strauss tone poem. I don't really like listening to Strauss in the audience, and this isn't even one of my more favorite ones to play. But I'd still much rather play assistant on DandT than not play at all. So playing assistant on this piece, for now, is certainly better than not playing it at all. Besides, Rob is a great horn player, and I'm learning a lot by watching the "regular section" interact with each other.

I seem to have contracted a small cold, but I'm on the upswing. How can you be sad with the Dems in power? Besides that, I stopped at the 7-Eleven on my way home from work and got some gummy candy! Yum!

Anyway, how are you?

THE BIG "T"

"T is for tenure, that's good enough for me.
T is for tenure, that's good enough for me.
T is for tenure, that's good enough for me,
OH tenure tenure tenure starts with T!"


I just found out this morning that I got "The BIG T" in my summer orchestra, the Ocean City POPS. This means that I have found what so few have found: Steady Summer Work. (I said nothing about artistically innovative summer work, or challenging summer work, fulfilling summer work. One thing at a time, Reader(s).)

I wasn't particularly worried... I think I played pretty well and represented my playing pretty well this summer. But this position has been somewhat of a "revolving door" in the last few seasons for a variety of reasons, so I didn't really know what to expect. Anyway, I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself right now.

Of course, ask me mid-July if I'm happy about this and I might tell you differently. One can only play "Stars and Stripes Forever" so many times before one wants to throw oneself off The Boardwalk.

An Assignment!

Ok, I know a good number of you reading this are horn players, or at least musicians. So here's your assignment: Go to the "comments" section down at the bottom of this section and name five horn excerpts. Try to keep it relatively standard. Just name them. Don't ask why, just do it. If you insist on naming more than five, please make two separate lists.

Thank you.