Well, I’ve been in Sun Valley, Idaho, for the past several days, but would like to make one more Vail related post.
On one of my last days in Vail, I got in my car and turned on the local NPR station. Though I was familiar with the music, it took me a couple of minutes before I recognized it as the last movement to Mahler’s Third Symphony. As time passed I found myself engrossed in the performance; and when the first notes of the brass chorale began (with three trumpets and trombone, if I remember correctly), I found myself suddenly, and unexpectedly, moved. Upon the release of the final chord, I thought to myself, “Surely this is the best performance of the movement that I’ve heard.”
In retrospect, I began musing on the nature of my reaction. “The pacing of that performance was perfect.” “The balance and blend of the brasses were remarkable.” “That performance was incredible!” These would all be perfectly logical reactions to what I had just experienced. But, “that was the best…”? And while I still feel that it is true [incidentally, it was the LA Phil with Esa-Pekka Salonen], it made me consider for a moment something that, as a musician, I think we all tend to do far too often: make everything a comparison, to some degree or another. It’s not that comparison doesn’t exist in other fields, of course. Every profession has a certain amount of, “I’m better than so and so…” But it seems musicians do it to a greater degree.
For example, when a cardiologist (heart surgeon) becomes renowned in his or her field for their work, while they may take pride in their stature, what is really important to them is that they can help people who might otherwise be considered hopeless cases. Ultimately, they become the best surgeons they can, and their stature comes as a result of the effectiveness of their work.
I think that we, as musicians, often look at things the other way around—wanting fame and stature before we actually begin focusing on utilizing our own gifts to the absolute best of our ability. Oftentimes, it is overemphasizing the importance of others being the best: who has the best performance of the David? Or the Grondahl? Or the Bourgeois? The comparisons begin in grade school or high school, where you first try to become 1st chair. Then 1st chair County Band. Then 1st chair Area Band, 1st chair Regions, 1st chair All-State, 1st chair Nationals. Then get into the best colleges or universities to study with the best teachers. Then get into the best grad schools. Then either win the biggest audition, or get into the best teaching job.
Ultimately, comparisons, though part of our musical community, are far less important than our greater task of becoming the best musicians we can be. Even in auditions, while an orchestra wants the “best player for the job,” what does that mean? The best player on that particular day? For that particular orchestra? Listened to by that particular committee? And that particular Music Director?
We musicians need to better understand that music isn’t about competitions or auditions; it’s about music--a cliché, I know, but think about it. How often do we say to one another that one performing trombonist is better than another? The answer is: far too often. Each individual has their own gifts that they bring to what they do. Look at pianists: Who’s the best: Bronfman? Ashkenazy? Horowitz? Rubenstein? Argerich? Goode? Lang Lang?
Each bring their own individual gifts to what they do. And they all excel at certain, though often different, repertoire. The bottom line is that they successfully speak to audiences. Perhaps if we began to do the same on our instrument, we would begin to make strides from being a “back of the orchestra whole- and half- note instrument” to artists who excel at what they do, performing on an instrument not previously considered a Great Communicator.
