It is an understandable trait of human nature that our priorities do not always allow us to show much more than a cursory interest in the details of a situation that seems to work satisfactorily on its own. In our daily life, we tend to accept the general theory of how something works without further investigation. And anyway, through the experience of trial and error, we’ve developed a system of getting by that seems to work for us in most situations. We look both ways before crossing the road. The details of a possibly awkward situation, like an unusual and confusing traffic-light system, might require more analytical brainwork.
If we are talking about rational decisions, it has been aptly said that we might believe and maybe hope that God reveals himself in creation. We can scrutinise and analyse creation as much as we wish, and we will not find Him. Any more than we can discover the soul by examining the body. Many therefore feel that they must find a satisfying philosophical alternative to rational thinking. There are general rules, but there are also personal decisions to be made. As individuals, we try to analyse how to train our bodies to behave as we wish. Is a rowing machine better than an exercise bike or twenty lengths of the pool? As we ponder these things, while all the time getting on with our everyday work, we generally agree that civilization will probably continue on its way around us – for ill as well as for good.
Having got the important considerations out of the way, most horn players would not call themselves philosophical, and many are not particularly romantic. Much of our conversation over a pint will be on the same subjects as anyone else’s. We simply try to get on as well as we can in what some might call a relatively cut-throat business. But in some matters concerning our chosen instrument, the best players are largely, and necessarily, of a practical bent. They investigate and are curious, wanting to get to the bottom of what makes a superlative player. For most, this is instinctive, and they may not realise they are developing their intuitive potential.
Like the scientist who develops, then tests a hypothesis, we develop theories about musical matters and playing techniques and how these may influence and entertain ourselves and by extension, our audiences. We try to prove our ideas and then accept the results as we see them and move on. In horn playing, our speculations may concern the way we tongue, the amount our jaw should fall, the amount we should ‘press’ or simply, the amount we practise. In later life we may realise that we had drawn muddled, misguided and sometimes plain wrong conclusions from our conjectures and had spent years perhaps mistakenly believing them, and in the process, if we are teachers, misguidedly proselytising them.
A simple example of this might have been the thought that, because we made a thin sound and used what we considered considerable mouthpiece pressure, it was that pressure that caused that thin sound. In fact, there could have been three or four other considerations, not immediately obvious, that we had not thought of. Naturally, our judgement may on occasion have indeed been correct. But in some circumstances, it may not necessarily have the true reason for our sound being somewhat – as Alan Civil once described the tone of a woodwind player of his acquaintance – sarsonic. Even among scientists, there have been, over the centuries, a great number of seemingly persuasive ‘proofs’ of theories where the figures have been massaged or misinterpreted and in the case of medical theories, like the causes of Autism, have led to damaging conclusions. In other fields, Charles Darwin was convinced that the universe was expanding until modern discoveries proved him wrong. And, by the way, it is not true that you can see the Great Wall of China from space.
Imagination, intuition, experimentation and experience are essential elements in our musical problem-solving armoury. Horn players will get the best answers (and results) if they carefully investigate all aspects of a problem through forming and maintaining a simple concept in their heads of what they are trying to achieve, and then test their ideas in as equally simple a way as possible. It is important to question whether the most obvious answer is necessarily the true answer. It is clearly right that we accept well-meaning advice from our teacher, but in – literally – the final analysis, we have to prove it to ourselves. It may take many hours of thoughtful practice to find the answer, and in the process, we might need to adjust our practice. Most of us have been through this process. And everyone agrees that in the end it was worth it.
Anyone reading this may feel that I have been unduly over intense and convoluted in what I have written so far. But I feel strongly enough about the points I want to make to be quite verbose about it. But I therefore apologise. What I want to propose is that if there is a problem – probably minor – with our playing, we ought to think hard about it and have faith that we will address it successfully.
Not all horn players bother to have very useful theories about anything, and if this seems to be a rather cruel accusation, I can readily include myself in their number. Indeed, I admit to being a prime example of the type. Someone once regretted that it was such a shame that youth was wasted on the young. I suppose the person who said it meant that it was disappointing that our brains are not sufficiently developed to work intelligently at an age when we have had very little experience of life from which to draw. How on earth could wisdom come out of an unformed mind? On this matter, however, I have been astonished how much wisdom has emerged from the mouths of many I have taught. Much of which I filed away for further use. We learn not only from our elders and betters.
Most of us, of course, try to improve our playing by working on what we have been told to practise. In order to become competent horn players, we need to tick the required boxes in exams. The success that this results in is encouraging and gives our parents and the school noticeboard something about which to boast. But sometimes our work has not been as comprehensive as it should have been, even though the exam has been triumphantly negotiated. Nor has our work been very scientific, because we forget – if we have ever known – that the whole art of horn playing is actually based on a science out of which then comes the true art that we should want to demonstrate; and through which we will express ourselves and play beautifully.
It is an uncomfortable fact that in order to succeed, most of us must be prepared to work extremely hard in a focused and thoughtful manner. In other words, we must arm ourselves with the basic attributes of the fine players we admire: a fine working embouchure, an equally efficient breathing technique, a lovely tone and a highly developed artistic imagination.
I hope to expand on this further.
