Playing in the Band

Ruth and I went to a concert last Saturday.  We saw David Foster and he was spectacular. If you’re not sure who he is, and I wasn’t, think Barbra Streisand, Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Madonna, Andrea  Bocelli, Michael Buble’, Josh Groban, Rod Stewart, Stevie Wonder, Earth, Wind and Fire, Michael Bolton, Kenny Rogers, Chicago, Hall and Oates and on and on.   He describes his style as “baby making music”.

Listening to the music made me realize how much I love it.  It’s good for the soul.  It also caused me to reflect upon my own musical career.   I can describe it best as  disappointing.

I decided to play the clarinet when I was in fifth grade.  That was my first opportunity to play anything.   There was a parent meeting one fall evening with the band instructor, Mr. Parks.  He explained the whole “how to be in the band” thing.  Parents could rent instruments for their child before purchasing one.  This gave the students the opportunity to experience playing before parents were required to make the final purchase.

The students had a meeting with Mr. Parks the next day and each student who wanted to play an instrument made their selection at that meeting.   Mr. Parks held up instruments so that we knew what he was talking about.  My friend, Bill, signed up for saxophone because he had a saxophone at home.   One of his parents must have played before they became a parent.  I chose the clarinet.  My parents paid $15.00 which bought me three months to figure out if I made the correct decision.

It was really a process of elimination rather than a conscious choice. I wanted to play the trumpet but trumpet was not a choice.   They had a cornet, and that looked like a trumpet, but it wasn’t one.  A guy named Chuck chose the cornet and I didn’t care for Chuck.   I associated the cornet with Chuck, so that eliminated the cornet.  The trombone looked too large and heavy. The flute looked too girly.  People who decided to play the drums were going to learn on little wooden platforms with a rubber like thingamagig attachment.   That looked lame so the drums were out.

If there were other choices, I don’t recall them.

Once I got my clarinet I learned that you had to “put them together”.   This was not a part of Mr. Park’s original demonstration.  The first step in assembling a clarinet was to put a piece of wood, called a reed, in your mouth.  Without getting too technical, the saliva in your mouth provided moisture to the reed.  It’s important to have a wet reed when you play.

Bill didn’t have to assemble his saxophone (except to attach his mouthpiece), but he did have to put a reed in this mouth because saxophones require a wet reed too.

Chuck had to attach a mouthpiece to his cornet, but there was no reed to wet.  He did have to take the mouthpiece off from time to time so that he could dump saliva out of his cornet.  (I never realized that there was so much spit involved in playing a musical instrument.)

Instruments like saxophones and clarinets are called woodwinds.  There are other woodwinds but most people start with the saxophone or clarinet and move on to more complicated instruments.   Cornets and trombones are a part of the brass family.

In summary, you must add saliva to the woodwind family and subtract it from the brass family.  (I learned all I know about this in the fifth grade.)

I don’t remember how many times per week that the band members met as a group.  I do know that we were expected to practice everyday.  Looking back, I don’t envy Mr. Parks.  He, and all other band teachers like him in the history of band teachers, had to be very patient people.  They start with nothing but a bunch a kids who think that they want to learn how to play an instrument and, if things go the way they plan, they create a band.

Spoiler alert, my time with the clarinet was short lived.  I liked going to band class, but I didn’t like practicing.   I wanted to “play”  the clarinet but I didn’t want to put in the time to learn to play it well.  I did fine with the “whole note” part of reading music but found “sharps” and “flats” to be a challenge.

As my three month trial period was coming to an end, my parents issued an ultimatum.  If they were going to buy the instrument,  I had to put in the practice time so that they received a return on their investment.  (My words.)  That sounded reasonable to me.

I decided to put in the work to see if I was cut out to play the clarinet.   I practiced harder than I had ever practiced, and I did it almost everyday.  Most of the songs that we played in band were very simple.  If I was going to stick it out, I wanted to learn to play familiar tunes.

One Saturday, about a week or two before my three month trial period expired, I worked as hard as I ever worked on any song.   My fingers practically flew up and down the keys of my clarinet and some time just before noon, I had “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” nailed.

My Uncle Harry Mac was visiting that morning.  He and my dad were in our kitchen talking about men things.  I wanted to impress them with my newly acquired accomplishment so I interrupted their conversation.  The next few minutes went something like this.

Me:  “I have been working really hard on a song and I’d like to play it for you.”

Them:  “Ok, let’s hear what you’ve got.”

Me: “Great.   I’m going to play a song and I want you to guess what song I’ve played.”

Them:  “Ok.”

I played like I had never played before.   I sounded even better in the kitchen than I had during practice in my bedroom.  I think that the combination of having an audience and the acoustics of the kitchen helped build my confidence.  Bedrooms have a lot of pillows and blankets that deaden the sound.  The hard surfaces of the kitchen helped each note ring true.

When I was done with the song I said, “Ok, tell me what song that was.”

Uncle Harry just looked at my dad and didn’t say a thing.  He left the response up to him.

Dad:  “That was great.  It sounded just like the “Happy Birthday” song.”

And that’s the moment that I decided that playing in the band was not for me.