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 (Coals to Newcastle); 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 a tritone and goes on down . . . that D’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.”
Mercifully, he was an absolute gentleman about it.
So, at that evening's performance, I was determined to nail that D. . . . I sprayed 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 (Coals to Newcastle); 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 a tritone and goes on down . . . that D’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.”
Mercifully, he was an absolute gentleman about it.
So, at that evening's performance, I was determined to nail that D. . . . I sprayed 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!