The announcement did not mention that no such award yet existed, but progress came quickly during the ensuing winter months. Instrumentalist founder Traugott Rohner made multiple trips to the House of Williams, a Chicago firm that made custom jewelry and awards to oversee the progress on the new awards. Despite, or perhaps because of, his exacting scrutiny, the results were two truly beautiful awards: the Sousa plaque with a red, white, and blue flag and a desk piece with a stunning side view of the man himself. These iconic images soon became familiar to generations of directors and students and the pinnacle of achievement in high school bands.
    During the most recent awards season, we discovered a folder that included painstaking details of the earliest awards sales. In the first year, a grand total of 224 student awards were sold plus almost as many Sousa plaques. The dollar in 1954 went farther than today and the earliest awards cost schools $6.50 for a student combination and $19.50 for a wall plaque. When one award was returned by a director in 1963, the publisher wrote an indignant letter to the House of Williams:

    I am certain that you will agree that the quality of the enclosed Sousa Desk Piece is not up to the desired quality.
    What gets me is that it would pass anyone working on it. Is there is some way in which these can be checked and stopped before they are shipped to us?

    This letter makes us smile because it reminds us of Traugott Rohner’s enduring pursuit of excellence, whether it was with his high school ensembles or the magazine and awards he founded. It also mirrors notes we send occasionally to our current manufacturer. Mistakes then and now don’t happen often, but perfection remains the elusive goal.
    As a new school year begins, we are reminded how good things almost always begin insignificantly – but with a vision for something greater. We know two successful directors who proclaim that their proudest achievement was taking an underachieving orchestra at their school and growing it into a sparkling ensemble.
    With the teaching challenges of the past two years, directors will need every tool in their kits to rebuild and strengthen music education in their communities. Inspired ideas and hard work can lead to enduring things.

James T. Rohner
Publisher Emeritus

The post Starting Small appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

History
    The saxophone choir is nearly as old as the instrument itself. Adolphe Sax ran a publishing business along with his instrument manufacturing firm, and printed and sold music for saxophones, saxhorns, and saxotrombas to feed the market for literature for his inventions throughout the 1860s. Along with works for saxophone and piano, composers close to Sax also penned quartets, quintets, sextets, septets, and octets. Jerome Savari was perhaps the most prolific of the composers for these larger forces, and his works for six-to-eight saxophones still serve as light-romantic crowd-pleasers that provide a challenge to talented young performers.
    The saxophone choir experienced a huge boost in popularity from the early 1900s through the late 1920s during a time often known as the saxophone craze. American musical instrument manufacturers were eager to find new markets for their wares, and the modern, sleek saxophone was the key to new audiences of amateur musicians. With the advent of jazz bands using the saxophone in the 1920s, the craze became even hotter.
    While saxophone virtuosos like Rudy Wiedoeft are often associated with the roaring 20s, amateur, semi-amateur, and professional saxophone choirs were just as prominent. Vaudeville stages in the first quarter of the 20th Century were filled with saxophone ensembles, whose members were often skilled as jugglers, acrobats, comedians, or the like. These groups spawned imitators wherever they went as fraternal organizations, schools, and municipalities sponsored saxophone choirs throughout this period. However, many of these groups, like the saxophone craze itself, folded following the stock market crash of 1929.
    The modern pedagogical use of the saxophone ensemble blossomed in the 1940s and 1950s. Percy Grainger, a saxophonist and lover of the instrument, penned a handful of works for septet and octet in these years, and pioneers of the modern concert saxophone used them in their teaching. Larry Teal led an ensemble of his students in Detroit in the 1940s.
    Perhaps the most prominent advocate of the saxophone choir in most of the middle of the 20th Century was Sigurd Rascher. The German-American soloist and pedagogue was using the ensembles in his teaching by the 1950s. Soon after, they became part of nearly every workshop and clinic he held. At first, he advocated for transcriptions for saxophone choir, but eventually, he and his students sought out original literature. His students spread the concept of the academic saxophone choir at every college and high school where they subsequently taught.

Rehearsing with The Middle Georgia Summer Saxophone Ensemble, photo by Christie Edwards

    A chance encounter further solidified the place of the saxophone choir in modern teaching. A mass ensemble held at a World Saxophone Congress in the 1970s introduced the French master teacher Jean-Marie Londeix to the idea. He soon formed an ensemble with his students at the Bordeaux Conservatory, and from there the idea spread through his many students in France, Japan, Australia, and back to the United States.
    Today, many universities sponsor choirs as integral parts of their saxophone studios. Members participate in lessons, quartets, and large ensembles throughout their academic training. It is hard to go to a state MEA conference or the Midwest Clinic today without encountering an excellent example of one of these ensembles.
    Many saxophonist band directors have been inspired to start ensembles in their own programs thanks to their exposure to choirs in their training. In the last several years, there appear to be just as many excellent high school saxophone ensembles at the Midwest Clinic as collegiate groups. Slowly, the idea has spread even to directors with no background as saxophonists that groups of saxophones perform with a full, glorious, organ-like tone.
    They can also provide great outlets for students in programs with many saxophonists, who often are instructed to play quietly so that they do not drown out other members of the band. A young saxophonist, both in quartets and choirs, can play out and work on a well-developed, beautiful sound. Often, the choir is a great fit for younger players who may not be quite ready for the independent playing required by smaller chamber groups.

Instrumentation
    For those thinking about starting a school group, an initial consideration is instrumentation. To date, no true standard exists. Those groups inspired by a French model may consist of twelve members, with three sopranos (with one doubling sopranino), three altos, three tenors, two baritones, and one bass saxophone. Those groups inspired by a Rascher-based model will often be larger, with instrumentation ranging from soprano to bass saxophone.
    Directors reading the above may be shaking their heads. The bass saxophone was far more prevalent in the first half of the 20th century. American instrument manufacturers made excellent examples for the time, suggested instrumentation lists, and even advocated for their inclusion in the band into the 1950s. Classics like the Hindemith Symphony in Bb and Grainger’s Lincolnshire Posy call for the instrument. However, with the possible exception of very old high school programs with a long string of pack-rat directors, today’s teachers will be hard-pressed to find a bass saxophone. Indeed, a Selmer Paris bass (the only example currently manufactured by a major brand) costs well over $25,000.
    A saxophone choir is more than possible without a bass saxophone, so do not fret. Many pieces are available for more reasonable instrumentations. For those programs with several available altos, at least two tenors, and at least two baris, a wide swath of literature will be playable. If a soprano is handy, the list of available pieces increases even more. For the Middle Georgia Summer Saxophone Ensemble, we kept instrumentation almost exclusively to altos, tenors, and baris. I played soprano on one piece of the program.

Literature
    Speaking of instrumentation, it can be intimidating to hunt for high-quality developmental literature. The greatest growth until recently has occurred in the collegiate realm, so much of the available music is quite difficult. However, many excellent, less-difficult publications exist. High school and middle school directors should consider arrangements by Harley Rex, John Nichol, Barbara Bruske, Richard Jensen, and Gary Bricault. While some of their more advanced arrangements may include parts for sopranino or bass, they also have substitute parts that can be played on more common instruments.
    There are also many excellent original works by composers Joel Love, Roshanne Etezady, and many more. Saxtet Publications is an excellent source of fun, challenging music. For our program this year, the Middle Georgia Summer Saxophone Ensemble selected Prelude for Eight by Richard Shores; All in Good Time by Karen Street; Shenandoah, arranged by Harley Rex; Owed to the Joy of Sax by Nigel Wood; and National Emblem, arranged by Anderson.

Rehearsing
    There are few surprises that occur when first rehearsing these ensembles. The early practices should include the reading of chorales, such as John Nichol’s transcriptions of Bach favor-ites, or Jean-Marie Londeix’s exercises for saxophone choirs (Exercises pratiques pour ensemble de saxophones). This will encourage students to play out in a way that they may not be used to in a band and will develop good approaches to balance and intonation.
    Speaking of balance, for nearly any arrangement or original composition playable by high school ensembles, doubling of parts is acceptable, and even desired. However, avoid doubling alto parts in saxophone choirs without beefing up the corresponding lower sections. Saxophones are slightly less able to project than low brass, so balance can go a bit askew if this is not considered.
    I hope these words of advice will inspire many more directors to form saxophone ensembles (or encourage students to form them) in their programs. The choir is a wonderful opportunity for music making that can inspire young saxophonists as little else can. The sound is beyond compare: majestic and rich like a great organ. Don’t take my word for it – hear it for yourself.

The post Triumphant Saxophone Choirs appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

Clinics for this year’s convention will have something for everyone including:
Christine E. Cumberledge, Tools for Effective Rehearsals
Jason Fettig, Conducting Sousa with Style
Jesus Florido, Afro-Cuban Music
Cecelia Kang on Music Literacy
Steven Meyer, Memorable Performances
Megan Perkins. Developing a Culture of Excellence in Middle School Band
Natalie Grana, Better Ears in Your Brass Section
Jack Eaddy, Jr., An Honest Conversation with Minority Directors
Alfred Watkins, Protecting Your Program
Peter Warshaw on SEL in Music Classes
A Conversation with Paula Crider
Dick Dunscomb, Successful Jazz Rhythm Sections
Garrett Klein, Golden Brass Sound
Lauren Reynolds, Ensemble Rehearsing
Don Stinson, Helping Low-Income Music Students Succeed
Bethany Robinson, Building Jazz Culture Through Warmups
Fredd Sanchez, Starting a Mariachi Program
A Session with the United States Navy Band Horn Section
Margaret Selby on Healthy School Orchestra Program Recruiting
Kandis Taylor, Five 21st Century Strategies for Music Learning
Middle School String Orchestra Rehearsal Lab with Michael Tompkins
Doris Doyon on Pillars of a Thriving Band Program
Winifred Crock with Solutions for Rhythmic Issues
Mark Dulin on Trumpet Teaching  of Vincent Cichowicz

The Midwest has also announced a stellar lineup of performers from around the world.
The clinic always hosts top military ensembles and this year will feature concerts by the United States Navy Band, directed by Capt. Kenneth Collins, and the United States Air Force Airmen of Note, led by Sgt. Lucas Brandon.
Performances by Adult or Community Groups will feature the Brooklyn Wind Symphony and conductor Jeff W. Ball, the Spring ISD Alumni Band, Capitol Quartet, and the Pete Ellman Big Band NFP.
For school ensembles and their directors, a Midwest invitation exemplifies the highest levels of student musical achievement. Just a few of the remarkable groups heading to Chicago are:
O’Fallon Township High School Wind Ensemble (Illinois), directed by Melissa Gustafson-Hinds
Allen High School Wind Ensemble (Texas), under the baton of Philip Obado
Denver School of the Arts High School Full Orchestra, led by Enrique Lasansky
Chicago Youth Symphony Orchestra, Allen Tinkham, conductor
Cedar Falls High School Jazz One (Iowa), led by Kyle Engelhardt
Pebble Hills High School Jazz Band (Texas), directed by Maximo Sierra
Henry M. Gunn High School Chamber Orchestra (Palo Alto), led by Young K. Kim.
Krimmel Intermediate Symphonic Band (Texas), Stetson Begin director
Seven Lakes Junior High Chamber Orchestra (Texas), Jennifer Gingell
University of Oklahoma Sooner Bassooners, Francisco Javier Alcaraz Leon

For the full list of clinics and concerts, visit

The post The Midwest Announces Performers and Clinicians for 2022 appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

    Establishing himself as the definitive bop-era trombonist while still in his 20s, J.J. Johnson has inspired and influenced generations of jazzmen. He performed with, among others, Count Basie, Illinois Jacquet, and Miles Davis, and formed the much recorded trombone duo with rhythm, Jay and Kai. Later he pursued a career writing music for films and television.

Many aspiring jazz players don’t understand the role of practice. They think that a jazz artist appears on stage and simply emotes. How do you feel about this?
    I’ve found that out just with my limited experience with clinics. I’ve tried to drive the point home to young players that they have got to practice. You always have to practice. There won’t come a time when you won’t have to practice anymore. As long as you are going to perform, you’ve got to practice.
    One of the most dramatic examples of the importance of practice is once many years ago when Miles Davis played at one of the clubs in the Village with his quintet: Miles, Coltrane, Red Garland, Philly Joe, and Paul Chambers. They played their normal set, which was exciting to say the least, then they’d take a 35 or 45-minute intermission, at which point John Coltrane would always go down to the basement and practice until it was time to go back on the bandstand again. This meant that he played all night long without letup. I don’t know of any more dramatic example  of the fact that you’ve got to practice. We all know what that did for Coltrane; he became the ultimate improviser.

That’s inspiring for young students or older players who need to get back on track again. I can’t imagine that ever happening to you.
    I think getting off the track happens to most jazz musicians. You go through cycles of frustration and cycles of exploration. You need to take stock of what you are doing. Maybe that’s good. I like to think that these periods are indicative of growth. You don’t reach a certain status where there’s nothing else to do, nothing else to gain. There’s always more to learn; you never really master an instrument. Sometimes I think that I’m a slave to the trombone; in a sense I am. Ted Nash, a studio man in LA, finally gave up playing because he said that the hassle of keeping his chops up and keeping his playing mechanism in tip-top form got to the point where there was no joy in it. He said that when it got to be a drag he knew that it was time to get out.
    I can relate to what he said about the hassle of having to keep up. It takes dedication and discipline, especially when there is no gig in sight. That’s difficult; I know that for a fact. We all know how intensely we practice when the gig is approaching, but when there is no work in sight, you just have to practice as hard, and you always look for a little edge, a little something extra: another dimension, another tone color, or something.

That’s always been something that I liked about your playing. In the 1940s you had already established a style that set the standard for every trombone player that’s come after you, but you didn’t stop there.
    One of the things that I try to pass along to younger players is the fact that jazz by its very nature is a restless music. It won’t stay still; it won’t behave. You can’t just put it over here and say, “Now be quiet and don’t say anything.” It won’t allow that. It must evolve; it must reach out and explore. When Dizzy and Bird came on the scene there was a hue and cry, “What is this crazy music with flatted fifths called bebop?” Obviously, it prevailed. I think it will always be that way. When something new comes along there will be resistance to it at first. When Miles recorded Bitches Brew there was a great hue and cry, from the critics, the media, everybody but especially his adoring fans. They raised a big ruckus about it. “He can’t desert us like this and go off into another world like that,” they said; but that’s what he did.

It’s difficult for kids coming up now because they don’t have the opportunities to play with older musicians as you did with the Basie Band. Who are some of the players who influenced you?
    One of my favorite stories that I pass along to young students is about my time with Basie, sitting next to Dickie Wells who was the lead trombonist and the featured trombonist of the band at that time. He was a tall, rangy, hand­some man who could have been a movie star. Somehow, when he stood up to play his solos, he seemed to tower over the orchestra. Of course, this is magnified by the fact that I was in awe of him. I was a kid from Indianapolis sitting next to this monster trombone player who did not play a lot of notes, did not play pyrotechnics or play into the stratosphere. He just played a few well-chosen notes with great feeling and great depth of emotion. He played very few notes but it was the inflection that he put on those notes that made his playing so outstanding. Kids nowadays are obsessed with a thousand notes and playing faster and higher, so to find out that I was in awe of someone who didn’t play a lot of notes gives them something to think about.
    Another favorite story is about the first trombonist I heard play in a manner other than the way trombonists played up to that point. His name was Fred Beckett. He never was well known and never reached a high profile status in the classic sense. He was with a territory band called Harlan Leonard’s Rockets. I happened to hear a recording where he played a 16-bar solo, and I was just amazed. He was the first trombonist I heard play in a linear style. He would play lines that were beautiful. Unfor­tunately, he passed away in his 30s; he was with Lionel Hampton at the time. He would have been a force to be reckoned with had he continued in jazz.

I’ve often noticed that when you’re on the stand you have the sets planned out as to which tunes you will call and who will play on what. It seems that often everybody plays on every tune, and after a while that gets old to the audience.
    I’ve seen the edge you need to be a good performer fall off because things were not well thought out and were falling apart at the seams. I’ve seen the reverse where people had their act together and planned in advance. Seeing both sides of the coin, I hope something good has rubbed off on me.

People often talk about a certain level of spontaneity in this music that is necessary for a good performance.
    No question about it. Normally Miles is a featured act on a show that has three or four acts. Usually, the featured act plays last, that’s common practice, but not Miles. Miles plays first. You know why? Ever have the experience where you wait and wait, and by the time you play, you’ve lost that edge? That will never happen to Miles. Miles plays when he’s fresh and spontaneous; he gets out and is gone by the time the last act plays. You’ll never hear Miles who waited through three acts and has lost his sharp, very fine, well-honed edge. Nobody in the audience wants to know that he’s been waiting around and has lost his edge. If they paid $20 or $30 a ticket, they want blood. You can’t blame them. They deserve the best performance you are capable of.

When you were learning to improvise as a young player, what kinds of stages did you go through?
    I’m sure that all of us first begin by emulating the people who we idolize. I guess personalizing my playing began during practicing. At first you practice the customary scales and long tones and arpeggios. Somewhere along the line you begin to incorporate some of yourself in this routine.
    One of the reasons I ask is that you are the person who brought the instrument into the modern era. You did things that no one had thought of before, and you looked at the trombone in a way that people had never looked at it before. It fascinates me that you could do this when there really wasn’t a precedent to follow. How did you do it?
    Two or three words come to mind: naive, reckless, and a little crazy. The other words that come to mind are practice, practice, practice. I had encouragement from people like Dizzy when I was struggling with lines of bebop tunes. I recall Dizzy planting seeds, saying, “J.J., try it this way.” I was amazed when it worked out because Dizzy is not a trombone player and nobody realized that he knew anything about trombone technique, but he did. He’d show me little tricks with the slide and sure enough, it would be easier. It wasn’t only Dizzy, though. People planted little seeds here and there that paid off dividends later in a big way. One who really helped me was Illinois Jacquet. I played in his band for a while. We called it the Little Big Band: two trumpets, trombone, tenor sax, baritone sax, and a rhythm section. Jacquet was a great source of encouragement, although most people don’t associate him with bebop. Jacquet was a wonderful bebopper, but he would do it offstage, over in the corner somewhere when he practiced. He played marvelous bebop, but then he went onstage and played the show he was famous for, honking and screaming. “C’mon, J.J., let’s play this line in unison,” he’d say, and then he’d tell me that I could do it. He was always a source of encouragement, and after a while I began to believe him. I was lucky to be exposed to such people.

The thing that is the most exciting about your playing is that you take chances.
    Test pilots have a term called the envelope for when a pilot goes to a certain speed, after which he no longer has control. Up to that point, the plane is under his control. That fine line between being in control and out of control is the edge of the envelope. Once you cross that line, anything can happen. In playing we have our envelope. When I take chances, I’m trying to expand my envelope. The challenge of life is like that; we try to expand our envelopes by expanding our capabilities. Many times we go past the envelope with disastrous results.

Do you think that playing every night makes a big difference?
    I have an old saying, “You have to play to play.” Playing frequently and playing hard makes you play better. Unfortunately, there is no substitute.
    Many people think that you quit playing for an extended period of time because you became so active as a writer.
    I never stopped playing entirely. I did some studio work and infrequently played jazz festivals. I practiced a little almost every day.

Are you getting to work as much as you want to?
    The thing I’m concerned about is if there are enough venues left to play in.
    It’s tough. As I test the waters and do some research, I’ve found that players today have to supplement their income by taking on activities such as clinics. You have to be versatile; it’s not like the old days.

What are your thoughts on clinics?
    For a long time I shied away from that area. It felt awkward to stand before a bunch of intelligent, aspiring musicians and paint a rosy picture of the music business when we all know how rosy it is not. As I addressed the students at a clinic at the University of North Texas, I couldn’t help but think of what would happen to all these wonderful musicians once they left school; schools like Indiana University and Eastman. Once they leave schools that have high-powered jazz programs, what will these gifted, talented musicians do with their lives? They can’t all be Stan Getz, Miles Davis, or John Coltrane. Some of them will be sidemen somewhere and some will wind up in education, but overall, what are we going to do with all these musicians? It’s a little disturbing to think about.

What do you like to listen to and do you have particular favorites?
    When I just listen for fun my selections fall into all kinds of crazy categories: classical, jazz, non-jazz, but my favorite is Stravinsky. I must have five versions of Le Sacre, three or four different versions of The Firebird Suite, several versions of Petrouchka, and a gem of a piece called Fireworks. Of course, I have several recordings of L’Histoire, which is classic Stravinsky. I love Hindemith’s orchestral works, but one of my favorite pieces is his Kleine Kammermusik. It’s wonderful, and I never tire of hearing it. It’s loaded with goodies. I also like to listen to the Bartók Concerto for Orchestra as well as his piano concertos. One of my favorite Bartók  pieces is The Miraculous  Mandarin. I tend toward the classical modernists. I’m big on Ravel, especially Le Tombeau de Couperin.
    When I get into a real orchestration frame of mind, I go big into Richard Strauss: Ein Heldenleben, Til Eulenspiegel, Salome, those are my favorites. I’m big on Tomita; he’s a Japanese synthesizer composer. He’s recorded Le Sacre on synthesizer; it’s incredible programming. He made a big splash a few years ago with a record called Snowflakes Are Dancing. It’s a marvelous work. That’s the kind of listening I do. Of the film composers I enjoy listening to, Jerry Goldsmith is at the top of the list. He has a grip on the art, technique and craft of film composition. Film composition doesn’t get a lot of attention; it’s frowned upon in some circles. It is subservient to the film but by its nature it has to be. The film is first and the music is part of the film, but there is a certain know-how that only some guys have and Jerry Goldsmith is one of them. John Williams is another. James Horner is one of the newer guys, and he’s really coming along; he’s quite talented.

Writing for films is another ball game.
    It’s another world.

I read somewhere that Quincy ]ones was responsible for getting you started in film writing.
    He had heard some stuff I had done that led him to believe I should take a stab at film composition. He· told me to come out to California to have a go at it.

Had you though about doing something like that before?
    Not seriously. The thought had crossed my mind but I never paid any attention to it; finally I did.

Did you go through an apprenticeship out there? I understand that you worked a good deal with Earle Hagen.
    Well, you’re not going to be ready for this but the apprenticeship began in New York two or three years prior to moving to California. M.B.A. Music offered me a position as staff composer and arranger to produce music for television and radio commercials. I worked there for three years and learned the mathematics of film composition. It all begins with the premise that 35mm film (the industry standard) runs through a projector at the rate of a foot and a half of film per second. Earle Hagen put out a book called Three Equals Two (three feet of film equals two seconds). That is the basis for all film mathematics. It gets quite complicated after that, but it begins with that simple premise. Fifty percent of your work in film composition has to do with the mathematics.
    Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get to putting notes down on a page because you are so preoccupied with numbers, footage, film counts, and synchronization points; but that’s where writing for films has to begin because the picture is first and the music is second. People look down on film composition for that reason. Years ago an enterprising film producer said to Igor Stravinsky, “We would love for you to write the music for our film.” Igor agreed and the producer told him how it would work. “We’ll shoot the picture. We’ll edit the picture. We’ll re-edit the picture, and after all that’s done we’ll show you the picture. Then we’ll discuss what we would like to have in the way of music for the picture, and then you write it.” Stravinsky said, “Oh no, it can’t be that way. The way it will have to be if I write it is first I will write the music, then you will produce the picture according to the music I have written.” I love that story.

I’m sure that when you first view a movie, you often have a different idea about what music should be written for it than the movie’s producer.
    A number of film composers have had their scores thrown out and have been paid very high fees in full, the most famous being 2001: A Space Odyssey. The original score was written by Alex North, who is one of the granddaddies of film composition. Everybody who has his right mind knows that he wrote a marvelous score for that movie; he’s incapable of writing a bad picture score. Nonetheless, it was thrown out because it was not what Kubrick had in mind. He was paid in full and they threw it out. This happens frequently and it has become a status symbol. Anyone who hasn’t had a film score thrown out on him ought not to be in the business.

Was writing for television similar to writing for films?
    Yes, it’s the same math although they don’t have to use only 35mm anymore. The basic premise of film production remains.

What are some of your current projects?
    I’ve got a couple of things on the back burner that could get off the ground floor someday. When I first got interested in clinics, one consideration was a clinic book or clinic library. I began to entertain all kinds of crazy, grandiose ideas of what the instrumentation ought to be. I was naive enough to think I could write a book for six or seven woodwinds, five or six trumpets, three or four French horns, tuba, and harp. I began to talk to people who were active in the clinic scene and they quickly brought me down to planet Earth. What would happen is that I’d write all this music but it would never get played anywhere. Nobody has that kind of setup. I got a grip on reality: four trumpets, four trombones, five saxes.
    At one clinic I related this grandiose, naive dream of mine to some of the directors present. They got a big laugh out of it as I had hoped they would. There was one high school band director who said, “J.J., I for one hope that you never give up those ideas. Someday go after that dream, write for three French horns and harp. Some of us will see to it that it gets played because we want to hear it.” I loved that guy for saying that. The others applauded him.

    That’s my arranger/orchestrator mentality asserting itself. I like the colors and textures. There is nothing like French horns. There is nothing like harp, and I’m not talking about the cliche harp glissandos, I’m talking about harp writing. Listen to Benjamin Britten’s Four Sea Interludes.
    Another thing I’d like to try is to interface my trombone with synthesizers. I have had some experience with this. When I worked for M.B.A. in New York, they bought one of the first Moog synthesizers. They dispatched me to Trumansburg, New York where the Moog factory was at that time, to take a cram course in Moog synthesizer programming and patching. That’s where I got hooked on synthesizers, and I’ve been hooked ever since. I went through a phase during my film composing career in California where I owned quite an elaborate array of analog synthesizers. I had two Arp 2600s, which are big, modular synthesizers, and I had a lot of sequencers and phase shifters. I used all this stuff in my film writing. Unlike the synthesizer scores that are going around now, I wrote for acoustic instruments as well. I’ve always felt that the best synthesizer colorations were synthesizers used in conjunction with acoustic instruments. I learned a lot from Earle Hagen about incorporating the synthesizer into the orchestration or giving it another color. If you put a synthesizer on a flute line or a unison trumpet line it gives it another texture, another timbre; it can be very effective. Of course, we’re all concerned with the threat of synthesizers putting musicians out of work. The threat is real and we can’t shove it aside or ignore it because it won’t go away. I am concerned with the fact that there are synthesizer scores where the entire score is performed without acoustic instruments; this is putting musicians out of work. This is a real threat that we will have to deal with, and I don’t know the answer. Nonetheless, there are interesting things going on in synthesizer technology.
    One of the things I learned was to interface and trigger the synthesizer with the sound of the trombone. I found a small company in California that made a pitch-to-voltage converter, and I had one of my mouthpieces wired so that when I played the trombone it would trigger the synthesizer. I tried this in a recording session and it worked well. If you listen to the cut called “Mr. Clean” on the Fantasy album, Tentacles, you will hear the trombone with three other voices parallel with it. What’s happening is that the trombone triggers an Oberheim synthesizer expander module in parallel so that you hear three lines instead of one. The next time you listen to it you’ll notice that it’s a trombone with two synthesizer voices stacked in fourths. There is nothing new about this but I would like to further explore that area.

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