Getting Reprimanded in Front of the Orchestra for Playing the Right Notes
by Drew Holmes
One morning back in July, I needed to be out of the house as early as possible. I was driving to Lakewood High School for the CBA Conference and did not want to wake Jamie, so I grabbed a work shirt out of the closet and got dressed in the dark.
I thought I had grabbed the correct shirt, since it was purple, but around lunch time I looked down and realized that instead of my Podcasting Store shirt, I had accidentally put on my Boomer Music Company shirt. Both are purple polos, so it is an easy mistake to make, but since we were displaying at the conference as The Podcasting Store, I felt a bit silly for being “out of uniform”, even if I was the one who had decided the dress code.
One year in college orchestra, our director programmed The Nutcracker Suite. I had never played it before (and it would be almost two decades before I played the full ballet, but that is another story), so I was eager to get started. In the first rehearsal our director instructed us to start at the top and gave the downbeat.
Sitting Principal Trumpet, I knew I had to lead by example for not just my section but all the brass. I played the opening fanfare of the Marche accurately and tastefully. But my conductor stopped the ensemble almost immediately. He was not impressed.
“Again,” he said, “from the top.”
Undeterred, I once again flawlessly executed the opening bars of the Marche. Once again, he cut us off and, staring directly at me, curtly said “From the top!”
I took a deep breath, awaited the downbeat, and played the Marche again with enthusiasm and exuberance. Maybe slight overexuberance. Okay, I was annoyed. I mean, what did the man want? It was not that hard, and I was nailing it!
“Drew!” he called out, “Top of the page! First movement! You’re tacet!”
That was when I saw it. Amongst the filagree in the page header I had completely overlooked that the Miniature Overture was the first movement, not the Marche. The actual first movement featured no trumpets and, by extension, no trumpet fanfare. Armed with this knowledge I sat silent as he gave the downbeat, finally executing my part correctly.
I learned an important lesson that day: the right notes at the wrong time are wrong notes. A bit more attention to detail would have spared me the embarrassment of being called out in front of the ensemble and preserved precious rehearsal time.
Beyond the immediate red-faced moment was an even larger lesson: the magic of music is found in the minutia. The subtle nuance of a harmony or the emotion felt in perfect phrasing are all small details. Missing those pieces, however tiny, is missing the essence of what makes music meaningful. All of it is there if we are ready to see it, hear it, and feel it.
When we get the easy things right, getting the harder ones correct is a lot easier and we must always be mindful that small errors will add up to big ones. Avoiding mistakes is impossible so instead, I will strive to make better mistakes tomorrow. This time, wearing the correct shirt is the perfect place to start.