CONTRABASS TROMBONE, YOU SAY?
Or the Clam Heard Around the World!
Or the Clam Heard Around the World!
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . . well 1982 . . . I was driving down Interstate 10 and my pager (remember those?) went off. I pulled into a gas station with a phone booth (remember those?) and my answering service told me to call Jeff Reynolds. Jeff told me if I called this guy in Italy – right now – there might be a free trip to Italy in it.
Apparently, Zubin Mehta had requested American alto, tenor, and contrabass trombone players to play Schoenberg's Gurre-Lieder, a work of epic proportion, at the Maggio Musicale in Firenze, Italia. To wit, Ralph Sauer, Sonny Ausman, and Jeff – none of whom could go. To be sure, there was absolutely zero shortage of highly qualified European trombonists; I suspect an LA Phil reunion was the idea. Jeff indicated the guy in Italy would figure this out in short order and great haste was in order. I called right then and there from that phone booth and was hired to play contrabass trombone. I called two of my pals about the other two chairs, but they dawdled and I alone was Italy-bound. Fifteen, expense-paid, days in Florence. Seven rehearsals and one performance. Glorious!
I got the part and practiced it diligently for a couple months. I owned a Larry Minick, hand-built, BBb, double-slide, double-valve, contrabass trombone. As BBb contras go, it was excellent, but BBb contras combine all the worst features of the tuba and the bass trombone rolled into one. It sounded quite good below the staff – if the part wasn't too fast. It worked fine for movie scores. Actual, orchestral, contrabass trombone parts are not confined below the staff and can move along briskly. In Gurre-Lieder, there is a rather prominent contrabass trombone passage that starts on a D above the bass clef, descends in tritones and . . . it’s not a great note on that horn. I must have practiced that lick a million times!
In six rehearsals, that D elicited no comment from the podium. I was feeling pretty good. The seventh, dress, rehearsal was in an enormous indoor soccer stadium. It was a double string section, with a 300-voice choir, and Klaus Maria Brandauer was the narrator. Everything was going just swimmingly – until that D. Again – six rehearsals – no comment.
So . . . Maestro Mehta cut the orchestra off and the following dialogue ensued.
“Contrabass trombone.”
“Yes, Maestro.”
“That note there . . .”
“Yes, Maestro.”
“It has a little ‘burr’ on the attack.”
“Yes, Maestro.”
“Well . . . I’m not crazy about it.”
“Me neither.”
Long pause . . .
“Oh . . . We start again.”
He was an absolute gentleman about it.
So, at that evening's performance, I was determined to nail that D. . . . I split it every which way but loose! Upon my return to the U.S. of A., I sold the BBb and bought an F and never looked back! (Hence, my advice.)
That said, Roger Bobo played the living daylights out of his old Conn BBb, but that’s a very exclusive club!
Apparently, Zubin Mehta had requested American alto, tenor, and contrabass trombone players to play Schoenberg's Gurre-Lieder, a work of epic proportion, at the Maggio Musicale in Firenze, Italia. To wit, Ralph Sauer, Sonny Ausman, and Jeff – none of whom could go. To be sure, there was absolutely zero shortage of highly qualified European trombonists; I suspect an LA Phil reunion was the idea. Jeff indicated the guy in Italy would figure this out in short order and great haste was in order. I called right then and there from that phone booth and was hired to play contrabass trombone. I called two of my pals about the other two chairs, but they dawdled and I alone was Italy-bound. Fifteen, expense-paid, days in Florence. Seven rehearsals and one performance. Glorious!
I got the part and practiced it diligently for a couple months. I owned a Larry Minick, hand-built, BBb, double-slide, double-valve, contrabass trombone. As BBb contras go, it was excellent, but BBb contras combine all the worst features of the tuba and the bass trombone rolled into one. It sounded quite good below the staff – if the part wasn't too fast. It worked fine for movie scores. Actual, orchestral, contrabass trombone parts are not confined below the staff and can move along briskly. In Gurre-Lieder, there is a rather prominent contrabass trombone passage that starts on a D above the bass clef, descends in tritones and . . . it’s not a great note on that horn. I must have practiced that lick a million times!
In six rehearsals, that D elicited no comment from the podium. I was feeling pretty good. The seventh, dress, rehearsal was in an enormous indoor soccer stadium. It was a double string section, with a 300-voice choir, and Klaus Maria Brandauer was the narrator. Everything was going just swimmingly – until that D. Again – six rehearsals – no comment.
So . . . Maestro Mehta cut the orchestra off and the following dialogue ensued.
“Contrabass trombone.”
“Yes, Maestro.”
“That note there . . .”
“Yes, Maestro.”
“It has a little ‘burr’ on the attack.”
“Yes, Maestro.”
“Well . . . I’m not crazy about it.”
“Me neither.”
Long pause . . .
“Oh . . . We start again.”
He was an absolute gentleman about it.
So, at that evening's performance, I was determined to nail that D. . . . I split it every which way but loose! Upon my return to the U.S. of A., I sold the BBb and bought an F and never looked back! (Hence, my advice.)
That said, Roger Bobo played the living daylights out of his old Conn BBb, but that’s a very exclusive club!