The Concert.

7:00 PM

I can't remember the exact date--mid-December, 2002--but I do recall the exact time.

The introductions have been made--the combined Symphonic Band and Wind Ensemble of Downers Grove South High School--and conductor Ronald Hornish steps to the podium. He is dressed in an immaculate tuxedo, waistcoat trimmed in emerald green, with matching cummerbund and bow-tie.

He pulls his jacket down by the sides and, with great flourish, produces his black phenolic spectacles from his jacket pocket. He grasps his baton--a finely-turned willow rod with a maple handle--and sets its cherry-wood case on the music stand. Arms raised, he calls the band to attention; the murmur of the audience ceases.

We are starting out this concert with Elsa's Procession to the Cathedral", from the opera Lohengrin, by the German composer Richard Wagner. This orchestral interlude was meant to accompany the entrance of the wedding party for the marriage of Princess Elsa von Brabant to Lohengrin, the Knight of the White Swan from Teutonic legend.

The piece starts out with solo clarinet, flute, and oboe. Simple enough; triadic harmony in A-flat Major, but Wagner's frequent accidentals, chromatic progressions, and other compositional trickery require close attention.

The next phrase contains all the upper woodwinds on sustained chords, with the bassoons establishing a descending theme with a slightly uneven rhythm. The progression begins in E-flat Major, moves to A-flat Major, then F Major+7, B-flat Major, G Major, A-flat Major, C Major, F Minor, A-flat Major+7, C Minor, F Major+7, and ends up a B-flat Major, all in eight measures. The third flat is dropped from the key (now E-flat Major) and "Elsa's Theme" comes in, so named as the opera stage directions have Elsa entering the cathedral at this point.

Moving on, an arpeggio theme is played by solo oboe, switching to clarinet halfway through. This rides upon quarter-note chords from the horns, somehow adding D Major to the triads already mentioned.

Hornish freely stretches, compresses, and cuts off measures and notes, using gestures of his hands and arms in the style of Stokowski. While one of our conductors often seemed to be flailing wildly about with his baton, and another (since retired) resembled a large, but uniquely graceful bird in flight, the current conductor has a style somewhere between pulling taffy and hand-forming clay, with the patience and care of a glass-blower. Fortunate that the combined band of a hundred-odd musicians is quite malleable.

The soft music goes through a seemingly-impossible series of chords in only three measures, dropping the two flats and adding four sharps to the signature: begin E Major. Were this the full production of the opera, a male chorus would come in here.

Gesegnet soll sie schreiten,
Die lang' in Demuth litt.
Gott möge sie geleiten,
Gott hüte ihren Schitt!

As a percussionist, the proceeding was all very lovely, and at the same time uneventful. I sat on a stool behind the set of Ludwig fiberglass-bowl timpani, arranged smallest to largest, left to right, 26", 23", 20", 16". I had already prepared my instrumentation: Setting the range dials; leaning down with my ear next to the heads, tapping lightly with my fingertip, tilting the tuning pedals to match pitch with the band (playing sharp or flat becomes very obvious).

The earlier arpeggio theme is repeated, this time underscored by soft trumpets and trombones playing the muted chords. The solo flute creeps up by half steps between F-sharp and B, then back down to E. This pattern repeats once, twice, the third time hesitating at B-flat, a half-step below the phrase resolution--and now I come in.

There is a broad B-flat Major+7 chord. I proceed with a multi-stroke roll, bouncing the mallet against the drum-head two or three times with each wrist movement. (My old section leader told us to use only single stroke on timpani, but multi-stroke produces a much smoother tone-not like he'd know anything about tone quality anyway.) The head, stretched to precisely the correct tension for second B-flat below middle C, resonates beneath the soft, rapid touch of my mallets, the fleece hand-wrapped in thin cotton cloth to prevent it from wearing away (their still intact, after all these years...)

In the opera, Elsa has reached the raised platform at the front of the chapel. The male chorus continues.

Sie naht, die Engelgleiche,
Von keuscher Gluth entbrannt!

I cut off just as the initial theme is restated by the entirety of the woodwinds.

Heil dir, o Tugendreiche!
Heil dir, Elsa von Brabant!

The altos and sopranos join the men, singing the earlier phrases in staggered fashion. The earlier descending theme comes on saxophones, with flutes and clarinets providing the countermotion. B-flat roll again. The minor transformation of the original forms up, and I play along with it: E-flat on the 16", C-natural on the 20", then second F-natural below middle C on the 26".

The minor transformation takes a new, unexpected turn now. The trombones and tubas play octave spans: B-natural, C-natural, C-sharp. A chromatic progression on E-flat Major+7 begins, repeated three times. I slightly adjust the pedal on the 26", moving to E-flat, continuing the roll, molto crescendo...

The band abruptly shifts to F-sharp Minor. I give a wrist flick, letting my wrist joint go slightly limp and jerking my elbow down sharply. The physical motion is like cracking a whip; the musical result is a monotonic gunshot. I begin the transition to a full extension, although it is more difficult to maintain even tone than a multi-stroke roll. The clarinets and flutes bring the jarring chord to F-sharp Minor+7. Even without a wind instrument, I notice that I am breathing heavier, more quickly...

The band comes out to B-flat Major, the descending chromatic theme played in octaves by a dozen tenor and bass trombones. I am reminded of a quote from the Bohemian composer Felix Mendelssohn:
"Trombones are too sacred for frequent use."

The trumpets and horns add in, changing the chord to F Major+7. The descending chromatic is repeated. Several gongs are struck, a snare drum roll begins, the score is fortissimo. I abruptly transition from multi- to single-stroke for added volume.  My upper arms are locked parallel to the torso, elbows pulling down the mallets, wrists, ligaments now resembling stretched steel cables, jerk them back up before the thunderous noise can be dampened.

A trombone arpeggio on E-flat Major, ascending to a new chord, A-flat Major+2. The horns descend by chromatics, and I join them--B-flat, A-natural, A-flat, F-natural, E-flat, ending with multiple triadic inversions on E-flat Major.

A moment for the echo to cease. The crowd is still for a few seconds, seeming more like minutes. The afterglow of the event descends upon the hall, drifting down like sparks from a magnesium flare. Our practice, artistic intuition and technical expertise combine with Wagner's genius--the combination of power and beauty, overwhelming strength and delicate intricacy--to create the silence. While it might seem strange, it is this astonished pause, not any cheering or whistling, that is the most glorious experience any artist can experience. The audience is practically stunned by the intangible energy of it all, speechless, needing a moment for it to sink in. They are shocked, yes, but in a good way; shocked by the music cascading over them like an ocean's tide, producing a force that, while gentle, is irresistible.

My wrists strain from the extreme force of the oscillations. My knees have the consistency of foam rubber. My sweaty fists relax their grip. I place my mallets on the music stand, my palms on the edges of the timpani to steady myself. My balance is nearly gone from playing, the effort of which leaves my body shaken, quivering. I draw a hoarse breath as my heart slowly ceases hammering. I allow myself this moment of ecstasy, reminding myself of a rock-and-roll singer whose name I forget, who said something like:
Live performance is an experience better than sex.

Then again, I believe someone else said this:
Music is the only sensual pleasure free from vice.



En musica hominibus cantae in unum vocem.