What are you hearing?

Poem

I played, until I played no more.
My lost love I've let you down.
Venture of my mind, of all minds, you are the only universal.

Response

To start off this week's blog I am going back in time to many memories that I have sitting in the band room of my high school, and also when I was on the stage about to perform a concert, or play for a competition along with sight-reading, or preparing in two days an All-County Band concert.

I started playing the Clarinet when I was in sixth grade, like most hopefuls who want to join band at that time, but unlike most I stuck playing throughout middle school and high school (I even played for a few weeks in the Wind Symphony here at UNCW, but I had to withdraw from the class due to conflict in my production schedule).  I played the Clarinet throughout middle school and then I got my first taste of a new instrument when I tried out for Jazz Band in the eighth grade, with my Clarinet, I made the cut, but no Clarinets were allowed, so I had to learn the Tenor Saxophone in order to stay in the small group of players.  The trend of learning new instruments stayed with me as I graduated high school, ending up playing the Contra-Alto in my senior year.

Okay with all of that aside, with each time I switched instruments, I had to get to know the sound and become familiar all over again, so I would go home and play incredibly long notes, making sure my pitch was right.  I learned this habit from every director I encountered, when getting ready for a concert, especially during the two days in All-County Band and the thirteen days we had to put together a Christmas concert after marching season, difficult pieces would be thrown our direction and when the director saw we were struggling in a certain area, they would slow down the tempo drastically, so the band could hear as a whole what each section was playing.

Also we would do our warm ups, some days spending about thirty minutes listening to each other, blending and balancing, adjusting our breathes, being in tuned to if we were too flat or too sharp.

This is what came to mind immediately when I started to listen to Beet Stretch, I know that we are supposed to be looking at the track as another piece of art, which I can say is a pretty interesting idea, but it reminds me of no other than the harmony and flow of music, how each note and sound is important.  

I think of how Mr. Morris had us tune as a band, he would tune the tuba first, with a tuner, and then add the other sections of the band, until that wobbling sound in the notes was no more.  Then we would follow his lead, watching his baton or the motion of his hands, we would slowly go up and down the scale, crescendoing and decrescendoing, practice our ability to rotate our breath in the instruments.  Beet stretch, from what I can hear, is the conductor and the instruments are following his command in sync and harmony.