Stravinsky Octet for Wind Instruments

Igor Stravinsky (1862-1971) wrote his Octet in 1922-3 during his early Neo-Classical period.  At this stage of his career he was abandoning his "Russian phase" which had brought us such works as The Rite of Spring and The Firebird.  His Neo-Classical.works (which never caught on with audiences to the degree that his Russian phase works had) combined a formal, structured compositional style with modern sounding harmonies, rhythms and counterpoint.  (His third and final phase of composition was his serial period, in case you're wondering.)

Stravinsky himself conducted the 1923 premier of the Octet at the Paris Opera House, since he had disliked Serge Koussevitsky's conducting of the premier his earlier work Symphonies of Wind Instruments.

Paris Opera House where Stravinsky premiered his Octet

Apparently Stravinsky stated that "there is no interpretation" for the Octet, and that's part of the reason he insisted on conducting it himself (so that it wouldn't be ruined by a conductor's interpretation of a piece which requires no interpretation!).  What he meant by that, I think, is that he had been so clear in his markings (including metronome markings) that all that was necessary was for the performers to follow his instructions.  Here is a recording (divided into 2 parts) of Stravinsky conducting the Octet:





It's unusual for bassoonists to have the opportunity to perform the octet on an orchestral subscription series, but luckily for me, the Stravinsky Octet was programmed on a Columbus Symphony classical subscription series.  As you may know, this piece is sometimes performed without conductor, but seeing as how Stravinsky himself conducted the Octet numerous times, it seems judicious to follow his example and use a conductor.  Here in Columbus our associate conductor Peter Stafford Wilson conducted our performances.

The octet is scored for 2 trumpets, 2 trombones, 2 bassoons, one flute and one clarinet......where did the odd instrumentation come from?  This is what Stravinsky told his biographer Robert Craft:

The Octuor began with a dream in which I saw myself in a small
room surrounded by a small group of instrumentalists playing some very
attractive music. I did not recognize the music, though I strained to hear it,
and I could not recall any feature of it the next day, but I do remember my
curiosity—in the dream—to know how many the musicians were. I
remember too that after I had counted them to the number eight, I looked
again and saw that they were playing bassoons, trombones, trumpets, a
flute and a clarinet. I awoke from this little concert in a state of great
delight and anticipation and the next morning began to compose the
Octuor, which I had had no thought of the day before, though for some
time I had wanted to write an ensemble piece—not incidental music like
Histoire du Soldat, but an instrumental sonata.

There are plenty of bassoon-related challenges in the Octet.  The opening Lento calls for some tricky trills, such as the high Aflat to Bflat at the beginning:

 This is the fingering I found to work best (as you can see above, I wrote the fingering in the part because I was not familiar with it):

 

This trill is certainly awkward, though, and is not the most comfortable way to begin a piece.  With both the right and left hands involved in trilling, coordination is tricky.  Don't be surprised if your bassoon shakes, as if the entire instrument must participate in the execution of this dastardly trill.  

As you can see in the following excerpt from page 2, the bassoon is often called upon to play staccato in Stravinsky's works. If the notes don't have dots, then the abbreviation "stacc." may appear underneath the staff.  Typically, the "Stravinsky staccato" is ULTRA short, and it certainly seems that Stravinsky capitalized on the bassoon's ability to play staccatissimo.

The passage which most musicians, bassoonists or otherwise, associate with the Octet's bassoon parts is the repeating 32nd note scale passages as demonstrated in Variation A below: (especially the downward scales beginning in the 4th measure):

The second bassoon continues the downward scales so that the 32nds sound continuous.  Even though this is what most listeners seem to notice, this is certainly not the most difficult aspect of the 1st bassoon part.

The following 5 measures leading into and beginning Variation C are even more challenging than the above scales:

Fortunately, our maestro conducted the measures before Variation C in quarters.  I spent considerable time practicing (with metronome) dividing the beat into 7 parts and into 5 parts so that I became comfortable with the relationship between the septuplet and the quintuplets. I didn't bother with the notes at first - I either just played on a single note or just used my voice.  (Rhythm is such an important aspect of music that it deserves to be practiced separately from the notes!)

Then at 33 (variation C) the tempo suddenly changes, and it's in one, AND the fingerings become treacherous at that point as well.  In fact, I made up a fingering for A# to B as an alternative to the standard fingerings.  I fingered A# as usual, then for the B, I added the B flat key while lifting the 3rd finger left hand.  That fingering combination, while somewhat more reliable than the standard fingerings, was still nerve-racking.  Despite that observation, I do recommend that fingering since I don't know of any better way to execute that passage.

Variation D is fast (quarter = 160) and light.  

The 16ths at 42 are fast, but playable after slow practice.

The low A, such as the one at 40 below, is suddenly loud and accented, and that happens repeatedly. (This is from Variation D pictured above.)  Due to the sudden dynamic change as well as the pitch tendency of the note, the low A is likely to be sharp in pitch if the player does not make an embouchure adjustment.  (The lower jaw should suddenly drop to lower the pitch.)

The 3rd movement (Finale) begins with a rather martial-sounding 1st bassoon solo accompanied by the 2nd bassoon. Especially for a bassoon solo, it's really long, lasting from the bridge at the end of the 2nd movement to #61, and should be played with lots of character.  Sometimes  bassoonists tend to automatically play at a healthy mf dynamic for any passage marked "solo", but watch out - this solo is marked "sempre p e stacc."!  It should be kept strictly in tempo, and short, light, and quiet.

As with so many Stravinsky bassoon parts, there is indeed a passage in the extreme high range.  It can be seen above beginning 8 bars after 61.  Because of that, it is necessary to use a reed which reliably hits high D.

At 66 begins a lengthy passage of continuous notes with no break.  I think it is important for bassoonists to learn to take very, very quick breaths for such situations.  The breaths should be so short that no time is lost and there is no interruption in the part.  If the staccatos are as short as Stravinsky intended them to be, then such quick snatch breaths are indeed possible.

I think it's a great idea for symphony orchestras to offer chamber works such as this one now and then.  The audience benefits from seeing and hearing the wind instruments up close, and the players get to enjoy the opportunity to perform chamber music for larger audiences - a win-win!


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Baroque masterpiece for orchestra (with a great bassoon part)

Jean-Féry Rebel (1666~1747) was a child prodigy violinist who studied composition with Jean-Baptiste Lully and served as court composer for Louis XIV.  At age 71 he came out of retirement to produce a shocking ballet, Les Élémens, in which he set out to depict the settling of creation into its natural order.

Rebel wrote of the work :“I have dared to link the idea of confusion of the Elements with that of confusion in Harmony. I have risked opening with all the notes sounding together, or rather, all the notes in an octave played as a single sound”.  Yes, he really does begin the piece with dissonance - the first "tone cluster" in the history of music!  The man was indeed a rebel.

Although the original score is lost, fortunately the parts (or some of the parts) were preserved.  The bassoon part, assuming it's original, was written for a virtuoso, as evidenced by the following passage in the Chaconne, in cut time:

This reminds me of an intriguing fact I read recently.  Apparently double-tonguing used to be common on the bassoon in bygone eras, which explains some rapid tongued bassoon passages written by Handel, Vivaldi and of course Beethoven.  In more recent times, at least over the past century, double tonguing on the bassoon fell out of favor, possibly due to the fact that oftentimes it doesn't sound very good due to the presence of the reed in the mouth.  During the past 20 years or so, however, double tonguing has again become an important aspect of bassoon technique, fortunately for any bassoonist performing Les Élémens.

There is also a movement featuring the bassoon as soloist: 

Here's a performance of the entire work, with a dancer:




If you live anywhere near Columbus, Ohio, please do come to hear the Columbus Symphony with Music Director Jean-Marie Zeitouni perform this piece live on Friday, Saturday or Sunday in the Southern Theatre.  Here are the program details and ticket-buying links:.

Masterworks 2: In Nature's Realm 2012-13 Masterworks Series Jean-Marie Zeitouni guides you through Beethoven's enchanting landscapes of the countryside in the refreshing Pastoral Symphony. Even though written in the 1700's, Jean-Frey Rebel's surprisingly contemporary tone poem Les élémens (the elements), depicts the creation of the world and all its creatures. The program is completed by Rossini's William Tell Overture painting a musical picture of a Swiss Alps dawn, storm, pastoral calm, and the famous cavalry charge gallop. Jean-Marie Zeitouni, conductor Program: ROSSINI Overture to Guillaume Tell (William Tell) REBEL Les élémens BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 6 in F Major, Op. 68, Pastoral

Venue: Southern Theatre Friday Oct. 19, 2012 - 8 pm Satuday Oct. 20, 2012 - 8 pm Sunday Oct. 21, 2012 - 3 pm Masterworks Series Sponsor:

The Cleveland Orchestra bassoon section's newest member

In case you haven't heard the news, Billy Hestand is the winner of today's audition for second bassoon of The Cleveland Orchestra!

I had the good fortune to hear Billy play through the audition material a couple of days ago when he stopped in Columbus on his way to the Cleveland audition.  What a thrill it was to hear a bassoonist who was on the verge of winning a position in one of the world's greatest orchestras.  Clearly, he played like a winner.  He had what I would describe as the Cleveland sound - very beautiful and refined - never out of control or the slightest bit crass.  The beginnings and releases of his notes were subtle and perfectly controlled.  He found the right character for each excerpt, showing total command of the orchestral repertoire.  He was ultra prepared, calm and confident.

That's what a winner sounds like.  Congratulations, Billy!

William Hestand has been principal bassoon of the Brooklyn Philharmonic since January 2009, and has played second bassoon in the Lancaster Festival Orchestra since the summer of 2008.  An active freelancer, William has been heard in performance with The New York Philharmonic, The Orchestra of St. Luke’s, American Composer’s Orchestra, and The Delaware Symphony Orchestra, and has performed under the baton of Pierre Boulez, Kurt Masur, Christoph Eschenbach, and Pinchas Zuckerman.  William received both his bachelor of music and master of music degree from the Manhattan School of Music where he studied with Patricia Rogers and Kim Laskowski.  An active chamber musician and solo recitalist, he has performed internationally for audiences in The Netherlands, The Dominican Republic, and has been heard at Carnegie Hall’s Weill Recital Hall.



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Orchestral Baroque ornamentation

It's easy for a symphony musician to feel a bit like a fish out of water when performing Baroque repertoire. It's not unheard of for the training of classical musicians to include no Baroque performance practice whatsoever.  Sure, most of us have listened to Baroque recordings, but oftentimes contemporary performance practice is applied to Baroque repertoire.

The Columbus Symphony has performed a number of Baroque works recently with our Music Director Jean-Marie Zeitouni in which we did actually follow Baroque performance practice.  (If you'd like to hear an example, InstantEncore is streaming our  Best of Baroque concert.)  But I haven't had enough experience in the Baroque realm to be able to state that I'm comfortable with it yet.

Earlier this month I had the opportunity to perform with another orchestra.  One of the featured works was the Vivaldi Concerto for Flute, Oboe and Bassoon "La Tempesta di Mare" RV 570.  The first movement is featured in this video by La Orquesta Sinfonica "Kronos":




None of the recordings I found of this work had much, if any, ornamentation going on in the solo bassoon part, so at first I was planning to just play the printed notes.  But I have always been fascinated by Baroque ornamentation.  When I closely examined the bassoon part it appeared as though someone had penciled in some ornamentation which had been erased.  At first I ignored it, but eventually I became obsessed with the notion of adding ornamentation to my part.

I found a couple of YouTube videos of the piece which were pitched at A=440, and I played along.  I really liked adding ornamentation, and practiced doing so.  At first I used the faint traces of ornamentation which had been erased from my part, and using those markings as examples, I came up with some fairly elaborate ideas.  There wasn't enough room on the part to write out those elaborate ideas, so I wasn't sure what to do?  Should I write out a whole new part? Should I even be trying to plan the ornaments before I knew the tempos?  Or should I just "wing it"?

And how exactly does one "wing it" anyway?   How do we learn how to improvise ornamentation?  The only way I know of is to listen to examples.  When I was a student at Eastman I spent many an hour in the music listening library learning how to be a musician.  I was mesmerized by a recording of oboist Leon Goosens playing the Bach Arioso BVW 1056.  It included ornamentation which is forever embedded in my brain.

It's easy to find examples of Baroque ornamentation on YouTube.  Here's a gorgeous example by German oboe virtuoso Burkhard Glaetzner:



On the day of the first rehearsal of the Vivaldi Concerto for Flute, Oboe and Bassoon "La Tempesta di Mare" I had still not figured out what I was going to do......I wanted to use ornamentation, but fully expected that the conductor would put the keibash on that.  After all, I have never before used ornamentation in the orchestra.  I had other things to worry about anyway, such as whether I would double-tongue or single-tongue the many consecutive 16ths.

During the initial read-through of the first movement, I was a complete and utter coward.   I played it straight, without a single added note.  Luckily for me, we went back and read it again.  This time emboldened, I found myself adding notes and flourishes here and there which seemed to fit, kind of playing it by ear.

When we finished that run-through, I braced myself for the conductor to ask what on earth was going on with the bassoon.  To my complete surprise, he exclaimed that he loved the ornamentation in the bassoon!

The tempo was faster during the performance, which is one of the reasons why it's so exciting to be an orchestral musician.  (I mean that!  I love the thrill of having to adjust at the last minute as the conductor and musicians find themselves caught up in the moment.)  This meant that I had to switch to double-tonguing and it also meant that the ornamentation was different from what I had in mind.  It was a thrilling performance, the type that reminds us of why we chose to be musicians.






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A highly recommended new composition for bassoon & string trio

 

My Columbus Symphony colleague violist Brett Allen recently wrote a blog post about his new composition for violin, viola, cello and bassoon.  Brett and I have already performed it with Quartet Amici here in Columbus.  It was challenging for each instrument, but the piece is a lot of fun to put together and is extremely appealing to the audience.

Here's Brett's explanation of his new piece, 4amici:

4amici: Quartet for Violin, Viola, Cello & Bassoon

As unusual as the quartet combination of Bassoon, Violin, Viola and Cello may be, there does exist an ample body of repertoire for it. Out of the Classical period composers Franz Anton Pfeiffer,  Johann Christoph Vogel, Francois Devienne, and Franz Danzi all wrote for the combination. Though not household names like Mozart or Haydn, their output remains significant today for both showcasing the bassoon and tracing the development of bassoon technique.

In more recent times, and in like manner, composers Villa-Lobos and Vaughn Williams have works setting solo bassoon against a bed of strings, though not the exact combination under discussion. But, Bernard Garfield, long-time Principal Bassoonist of the Philadelphia Orchestra, now retired, has no less than three Quartets for Bassoon, Violin, Viola and Cello in his catalog, in addition to reams of other bassoon-centric chamber works.

When Betsy Sturdevant, Principal Bassoonist with the Columbus Symphony, invited me to play and compose for her Amici Quartet, I saw it as an opportunity to break the bassoon-showcase mold in some respects. I thought, "Bassoon, plus Violin, Viola and Cello. How likely is that? It sounds like a wedding gig where the 2nd Violinist became indisposed and the other quartet members went out and grabbed the first instrumentalist to come along - a bassoonist!" Such suspension of disbelief is possible only in music videos, but I retained the idea of this being some kind of pick-up group.    

That, plus I had just seen the movie, The Visitor. I won't give the plot away except to say that a burned out college professor gets hooked on hand drumming and starts showing up at community drum circles. The phenomena of drum circles is of huge interest to me because it is quite the opposite of my classical, tightly structured training in music. What I am saying is - it explodes my whole musical universe! No one brings music. No one comes "prepared." It doesn't matter how "good" you are. No one knows what's going to happen. There's no leader. It's entirely spontaneous. As the drumming rises in intensity, people start dancing and singing. All the while new and interesting drumming patterns are rising to the surface. There's no distinction between audience and performers. No one "performance" can be written down or recreated. No one owns it. No one says, "I invented this, I am a great genius." It seems to reach down deep in the human soul and call forth some primitive, essential need to express. Everyone goes away quite satisfied, the same as if they had just listened to Beethoven's 9th Symphony.

I went to work on my "4amici" quartet with all these things in mind. I had a vision, like a stage play. Four buddies (four friends, "quattro amici"), wandering about the city, decide to gather in a public spot for a jam session. In this vision each instrumentalist is an equal participant, it's not just the bassoon on display. Each one throws in a musical idea. One is thinking about half-steps. Another throws in a forceful downward third. Another takes that and turns it on its head. Before long some semblance of music takes shape. Suddenly, there is an interruption, ceremonial music, as if the mayor is passing by. Later, the same material is transformed into something that sounds like a war song from the old country. Then the strings decide to cut the bassoon out and do their own thing. But the bassoonist won't have it and crashes the party. And so it goes, on and on. Each section spins out new ideas and new sections. Where it is headed and where it ends is anyone's guess. Eventually though, as with drum circles, the high energy dissipates and everyone calls it a night.

Sample parts are available on Scribd.com. Sheet Music is available for purchase here.

Thank you, Brett, for this most welcome addition to the bassoonist's chamber music repertoire.



 

Daphnis and Duruflé

The Columbus Symphony's most recent Masterworks concert entitled "French Feast" included Ravel: Suite No. 2 from Daphnis et Chloe and Duruflé: Requiem, Op. 9 conducted by our Music Director Jean-Marie Zeitouni. The feast offered a varying menu of challenges, from technical complexity to melodic simplicity.

Ravel composed the music for the ballet Daphnis et Chloe as a commission for Sergei Diaghilev.  It was premiered in Paris by Ballet Russe in 1912.  Many musicians consider this to be Ravel's orchestral masterpiece - its huge orchestra, (optional) chorus and lush, passionate melodies have made it a favorite of audiences worldwide.  Ravel extracted music from the hour-long ballet score to create two suites, the second (and more popular) of which includes the rousing "Danse generale".

Maurice Ravel in 1914

Daphnis is famous for its woodwind parts, especially the flute solos.  Although the bassoons are not particularly prominent in the piece, our parts are notoriously difficult, if unheard.  In fact, many bassoonists consider the Daphnis bassoon parts to be unplayable.  (No doubt, some orchestral bassoon parts truly are unplayable!)  If asked my opinion, I suppose I'd say that it is unlikely that any bassoonist would be able to execute each passage in Daphnis with 100% perfection at a reasonably fast tempo.  However, near-perfection is possible, and it's worth putting in the time to attempt to nail it reasonably well.

One thing I've noticed recently about practicing difficult technical passages is that it's helpful to keep track of progress.  I've developed a habit of penciling in my achieved metronome marking at the end of each practice session.  I mark it right in the music so that it will be visible each time I practice it.

It's extremely heartening to discover that with each practice session, the achieved tempo increases.  Frankly, I was surprised to see the evidence of progress - before I began keeping track, I often had the impression that I was just spinning my wheels.  Now I'm able to see actual proof of progress.  (If not, then it's time to re-assess one's practice techniques!)

I always start with the tempo at which I can play the passage accurately, which, due to the difficulty of the passage in question, is always very slow.  I do not allow myself to increase the metronome speed until I can play the passage perfectly several times in succession at the current tempo.  During each practice session, I begin at a tempo which is slower than my last highest tempo, to give my fingers and brain the benefit of slower-than-necessary review.

The most difficult section of the Ravel Daphnis 1st bassoon part!

Now to visit the other end of the French Feast spectrum: the Duruflé Requiem bassoon solo.  Don't be fooled by the fact that Duruflé's Requiem is only his 9th opus.  An incurable perfectionist, Duruflé has only 14 published opuses to his name; he was 45 when he wrote his Requiem, Op. 9 in 1947.  It's based upon the Gregorian themes of the Mass for the Dead, and the Lux aeterna movement opens with a statement of chant melody by the bassoon:

To me, it's very daunting to play a simple melody such as this one. It has to be perfect.  That means the intonation has to be perfect, the sound has to be even, the articulation must be perfect, the slurs must be perfectly smooth regardless of the fingerings involved, and any markings in the part must be observed.  Oh, and of course the rhythm must be perfect.

Two of those requirements are easy to practice.  Intonation is practiced by setting a drone to a reference pitch (I usually used Bflat for this solo).  The drone can be played by certain types of electronic tuners, on a computer using an online pitch-producing tuner, or on an electronic keyboard which can sustain pitches.  Then the melody is played against the drone.  It's easy to hear any pitch problems.  Rhythm is easy to practice as well, with a metronome.  Despite the odd meters, I set my metronome to 88 to the quarter.  (Since I often practice with the metronome beating on the offbeats, it does not concern me when the metronome switches from beating on the beat to off the beat in this excerpt.)  But because I don't like to become locked into any particular tempo, I make sure to sometimes practice it at different tempos, even at times like this when the composer has provided a metronome marking.  Live performances are not metronomic, and I like to plan for flexibility.

The other issues (evenness, smoothness, articulation, dynamics, phrasing, tone quality) are best addressed by recording.  Although I own a high quality recorder, it's a big hassle to get it out, re-read the directions and figure out how to operate the #&*@% thing each time I want to record.  Since I always have my phone with me, I use that.   I have recorded thousands of bassoon passages over the past year or so - in fact, I wore out the battery of my last iPhone by recording so much.  Of course we always listen to ourselves while we're practicing, but the recorder offers the perspective of the outside observer, which often exposes hitherto hidden flaws.

If I had to decide which was more challenging - the worst fast passage of Daphnis or the simple melody of the Duruflé, I can say without hesitation that the simple melody is the greater challenge to me.  How about you?


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Also Sprach Zarathustra

 The opening fanfare (entitled "Sunrise") of Richard Strauss' Also Sprach Zarathustra, Opus 30 (composed in 1896) is undoubtedly one of the most famous classical music excerpts in history, especially due to its feature in the 1968 film 2001: A Space Odyssey:



Strauss' tone poem Also Sprach Zarathustra was inspired by Friedrich Nietzsche's literary epic of the same name.  Strauss said that he hoped that his tone poem conveyed “an idea of the development of the human race from its origin…up to Nietzsche’s idea of the Superman.”  The famous opening sunrise fanfare may be thought of as the dawning of life itself, and after exploring such aspects as religion, passion, joy, science, longing, convalescence and death, the piece ends with a musical representation of the World Riddle, which remains unresolved.  (Throughout the piece, C major represents nature, and B major or minor represents mankind.  At the conclusion, the B major woodwind chord co-exists with a C in the basses so that neither B nor C is established as tonic.)

When I first encountered this piece during high school, I was most taken aback by this section:

It looks awfully daunting, doesn't it?  It's totally playable, though.  It's in 4, at a tempo of around 100 per eighth note, up to the 4/4 meter which is also in 4 at the same tempo with one quarter note per beat.

Now that I'm older and wiser, I know where the true challenge lies in this piece - at the ending, beginning with the pickup to 55 and ending at 56:

At first glance, this doesn't look like much (kind of the opposite of the earlier excerpt).  But it's one of the most difficult bassoon passages in the orchestral repertoire.  If the player's embouchure is not in shape, this passage will be unplayable because of the endurance required, especially due to the range which requires a tighter embouchure.  Additionally, breathing management is an issue.  It's necessary to push a high volume of air very slowly through the reed beginning at one after 55.  The reason the air must move slowly is because of the dynamics, which begin at p and diminuendo to ppp.  It's easy to hyper-ventilate in that type of situation.  The remedy is to rapidly expel air first before inhaling, if there is a buildup of excess air (and you won't know until the time comes!).

Normally I don't worry about embouchure.  But for a passage like this, I do.  When the Columbus Symphony recently performed this work with Music Director Jean-Marie Zeitouni, I anxiously awaited the first rehearsal on Tuesday so that I was able to find out what the tempo would be for the bassoon passage near the end of Zarathustra.  (Of course, the slower the tempo, the more difficult the bassoon solo.)  The tempo was on the slow side, and I planned for the tempo to possibly be even slower in the performances (just because it's wise to plan to be flexible).

After Tuesday afternoon's rehearsal, I practiced a lot - much more than I normally would practice late in the day.  I practiced the Strauss passage many, many times, at excruciatingly slow tempos, using the metronome so that I couldn't cheat.  Every once in a while I practiced long tones or other music before returning to the Strauss solo.  The goal was to strengthen the embouchure and to become extremely accustomed to playing that passage.  (Familiarity breeds confidence.)

On Wednesday morning, I did not practice before rehearsal.  Why?  The goal all week was to have as fresh an embouchure as possible each time I played the solo in the orchestra.  So I practiced a lot, but always after rehearsals were finished for that day.  Wednesday after rehearsing with the orchestra I practiced until late into the night, but Thursday morning no practicing was allowed before the rehearsal.  Like any other set of muscles, the embouchure rejuvenates itself during sleep, so no harm is done by over-practicing at night.

On Friday we had a morning rehearsal followed by a concert at night.  I did not allow myself to practice at all until after the Friday night concert so that I wouldn't be "wasting" my embouchure before the concert.  Why was it necessary to practice after the Friday concert?  It's because the rehearsal and concert on Friday might not provide enough of a workout for the embouchure to sustain the high level of strength needed for the Saturday night concert.  Remember, this is not normal embouchure strength we're talking about - it's super strength.

This routine may seem eccentric, but it's what I had to do to be able to sleep at night during Zarathustra week.  I also avoided caffeine before playing this solo, even in rehearsals.  Caffeine can make it difficult to control the embouchure in passages like this one.

The following Zarathustra 1st bassoon passage (sehr langsam tempo) would normally be a big deal, but it's a stroll through the park compared to the above solo!

Strauss had a knack for writing long, full-blown bassoon solos which pushed the boundaries of range, control and endurance.  It's surprising that excerpts from his works do not appear more frequently on bassoon audition lists!

That week's program, which also included Mozart's Overture to the Magic Flute and the world premiere of  Donald Harris' Symphony No. 2, was full of exciting moments.  Here is a video of our Music Director Jean-Marie Zeitouni talking about the program:

"Life without music would be a mistake."

     - Friedrich Nietzsche

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