I want to start of by saying that I am a huge proponent of teamwork and camaraderie in the orchestra, in every section. It pains me to hear all the stories of players not getting along in professional orchestras, that one comment that eliminates any chance of a positive relationship with the person you sit next to for so many hours every week. Who would want to play in a section like that? Who would want to, after spending so much time doing what you love to do, show up in an environment that should be fun but isn't?
Putting that aside for now, here are my points of my philosophy, with descriptions.
Being good enough isn't good enough.
This isn't about doing my best. This is about being the best. Of course, doing one's best is always a good approach. But one's best sometime isn't as good as another one's best.
This is especially true when it comes to auditions. I can't expect to win an audition if I'm struggling with my high range, or if I'm out of practice a bit and having accuracy problems, or if I simply screw up a fingering in the audition. Why? Because it is extremely likely someone else at the audition isn't having those problems. Sure, my low range, tone, rhythm, and musical interpretation are all great. But so is theirs. I know that musical interpretation is usually the key to winning an audition, but so is technical proficiency. How can I expect to win an audition without technical proficiency, especially when others in the audition are technically proficient and musically accurate? I have to be realistic with myself. I simply am unforgiving about any noticeable troubles that I have in preparation for an audition.
The same goes with this sort of "word of mouth" thing. Most of the gigs I've gotten to do have been because someone has recommended me for them, based on my skill level. The fact that I take every rehearsal seriously and make sure I can play every note on the page (of course, there are sometimes chipped notes) has yielded references from people who direct or play in those ensembles. If I had noticeable trouble with range or rhythm or intonation or anything, I wouldn't have been considered. How could I expect to be? I expect myself to be as good as I can be (which is really all I have control over) every rehearsal and every concert.
Thus, I've made sure that I'm able to cover all the bases there are to horn playing. My low range is solid, I can play rhythms well, I can transpose pretty much anything, I can lip trill, I can play a controlled fortissimo and pianissimo, I can multiple-tongue, and so much more. If I couldn't do one or more of those things, and it is made evident to people, how can I expect to be considered over someone who can do all that stuff?
Really, being good enough is rarely ever good enough for me. If something doesn’t sound good, I’m not happy about it. At a concert, a “good enough” performance (one with chipped notes, range troubles, bad tone) is a let-down to the audience. In an audition, being good enough is pale in comparison to those who are amazing.
Don't take things personally.
From what I’ve witnessed in my experience, suggestions are usually given by teachers, leaders and colleagues to help one get better, or sound better. People don’t say these things to hurt others’ feelings. When a conductor or a principal player says, “you’re playing too loud,” it’s because they care about how well I sound and how the orchestra sounds. They don’t say it and think, “hehe, made him upset!”
It’s so easy to take criticism the wrong way, and in my younger years I took it so very horribly. The problem was that I had spent so much of my time and effort to try to improve myself. To have people say I’m doing something wrong, or need to do something different than what I had practiced, was very discouraging for me. I was trying so hard to prove myself and impress people, and criticism seemed to me to show how unimpressive I was and how much I had to prove.
What I’ve learned is how one deals with criticism is what’s really impressive. Since it’s so easy to take criticism personally as musicians (again, since we spend so much time and effort to perfect our craft to only have someone say it’s flawed), there is a lot of negative energy that comes out of criticism. It’s something I try to avoid expressing, or even feeling. Now, if I were to be corrected or asked to change something (granted it’s reasonable), I am gracious to do so. Again, I’m trying to impress, and flexibility and adaptation in music is impressive. Arguing or getting all silent isn’t impressive. It’s awkward. And unprofessional. And childish.
If I do somehow feel insulted by a certain comment, I refrain from arguing. Music is supposed to be enjoyable. Arguments are meant for the courtroom, not the orchestra. Just say, “okay, great!” and move on, whether you do what is suggested or not. Whether you agree or not. I certainly don’t like arguing, and I know I’m not very good at it. It only makes things worse every time.
Let others determine how good you really are.
This is an important one, and was difficult for me to learn. It all boils down to basically eliminating all arrogance, and leaving my ego outside of the rehearsal room.
Throughout a good portion of my undergrad, I was quite arrogant. Maybe not openly arrogant, as I never said, “I’m just better than you guys.” But I always secretly thought I was more knowledgeable and versatile than my colleagues (and maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t). I was so eager to demonstrate my knowledge that I always pointed out facts I think I knew, and showed off all the things I could do on my horn.
But I had an important thing to learn:
Nobody cared how great I thought I was.
It’s true for pretty much every medium that requires some sort of skill. Music. Sports. Even sales. Nobody cares how great people think they are. I know I don’t. I want to determine myself how skilled someone is, or refer to what other people think. It should never be up to what I say to determine how good I am as a musician. It’s all about what I do. I just go to rehearsal and play, and to concerts and play, and let them determine how good I am. If I’m fortunate to get a lot of good comments, then I can determine that I must be pretty decent.
Luckily, I have received a lot of recognition as a horn player, so I know I play well. But I never go into a rehearsal saying that. I never go in with the attitude that I’m better than everyone else, or that I know more, because it really doesn’t matter (and may not be true). I just play and be nice and spare knowledge when expected and let them decide my value.
When you are not principal, you are not principal.
It’s unbelievable how difficult this was for me to realize when I was in my first couple years of undergrad at CWU. Because I thought I was such a good and knowledgeable player compared to the other people in my section, I felt it was my duty to lead the section from the 4th horn chair. From the 4th horn chair!! That meant that I played louder than the rest, and articulated differently and determined my own intonation. And the section sounded pretty bad. Because of me. Because I tried to be a principal horn player in the 4th horn chair.
This kind of thing is never acceptable, and never should be. I’ve read it quite clearly in many Horn Call articles about etiquette, summing up as, “appearing invisible in the horn section, so well blended and matched that you go unnoticed. You should never play louder than your principal.” So very, very true. Overblowing the principal can make them uncomfortable and unsure, and just makes the section sound bad. That makes the conductor, other sections, and audience unhappy.
I make it a goal as a section player to make the horn section sound good, not bad. Of course, that means having a full knowledge of your part and being prepared. But once that’s achieved, and I’m in rehearsal, I’m all about blending with the section and matching whatever the principal is putting out there, no matter how much you like or don’t like it. The principal already has enough things to worry about. Why make them worry about me, too? That’s no fun. This whole orchestral experience thing is supposed to be fun, isn’t it? Sounding bad is no fun. I refuse to make things sound bad.
When you are principal, you are principal.
The majority of the orchestral playing I’ve done in my career has been from the principal chair. I’ve been very fortunate of that, as not a lot of people can say that. Thus, it’s the chair I enjoy the most, and am the most comfortable in.
It took me a while to be comfortable, though. I was scared. The pressure of being a principal player is unbearable to the young player. You have so many opportunities to have people hear you and judge you, and at the same time you want to appear as the fearless and knowledgeable leader. The pressure is through the roof.
To get more settled in the principal chair, I developed this saying to myself: “Just shut up and play”. Sounds simple enough, right? Well, it is. But it took way too long for me to realize that.
“Just shut up and play”. What does that mean? Well, for one, I needed to stop saying so much to my section, particularly the obvious stuff. Saying things like “What I’m doing here, guys, is…” Well, duh, Sean. We can tell by how you are playing it.
That’s exactly it. I lead by my horn playing. I play for them how I would like things to go, including volume, articulation, and tone, among others. I lead with my horn. It’s so much easier to talk to my section with my horn than with my voice. Because we’re talking about music making, which is usually done with the horn.
I also try to not mention mistakes I notice by the other players in my section unless it is a continuous thing. I want the other players to have the credit for noticing and fixing the mistake, which is usually the case. If I’ve heard the same mistake more than once, I’ll mention something kindly. It’s important to do so as a principal, especially if someone is on a wrong partial. Since I have perfect pitch, I can detect anyone’s wrong notes easily. But I’ll refrain from saying anything to get them the chance to notice it first.
The other part of “shut up and play” is to try to eliminate the pressures of being a principal horn player. Don’t worry about what other people could be thinking. Just play. And have fun. My section is counting on me to lay it down and give them something to follow. They are counting on me to be confident, and they want to trust me, even if I happen to be wrong sometimes.
Another fact to accept as a principal is that I’m never always correct. My method of playing a certain passage or a piece may not jive with the conductor or the players in the ensemble. That’s cool. I’ll do whatever we need to do. Every section goes through this, and depending on the conductor, it could happen quite often. I’ve learned to accept that my approach may be different, or even wrong, and that’s fine.
What can’t be wrong is what’s written on the page. As a principal player, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to interpret everything on the sheet music correctly, including notes, rhythms, and details. If I miss something, and a section-mate or the conductor points that out, that’s awesome. They’re looking out for me, and helping to improve the music-making process.
Missing a day or two of practice isn't the end of the world.
I used to think that missing a day of practice was a horrible thing to do. And missing two days was a sin. And missing 3 days was the apocalypse.
How wrong I was. Obviously, more than a day does take its toll on my endurance, and may screw up my note accuracy and response for a day or two, but there’s really nothing else wrong with it. I never lost my ability to play low or high, or multiple-tongue, or play loud or soft, or lip trill. Or anything.
But one thing’s for sure: I can’t expect to improve my horn playing if I miss days from playing. I can just count on it to stay the same. It won’t get worse. That’s not how it works with me.
Playing other brass instruments doesn't affect your horn playing.
I used to have a strong belief that my interest in playing other brass instruments would drastically affect my horn playing. I heard it so often from various teachers and performers saying that if I wanted to be a successful horn player, I’d better stop playing that trombone.
But here’s the thing: I’ve been very successful as a hornist thus far, being fortunate to play the Gliere Concerto with an orchestra and sub with the Milwaukee Symphony, as well as sit as the principal chair of the Mid-Columbia Symphony, Festival City Symphony, and Seattle Wind Symphony. And I still play trombone every Sunday at church.
I certain proved all those thoughts wrong. I’ve been playing trombone with an ensemble for the past 4 years. I played sousaphone in marching band at CWU, and a couple times in the pep band at UWM. I sometimes play the EB tuba at church. And my horn playing is still as strong as ever. My embouchure feels great. A horn embouchure works well in a trombone mouthpiece. It’s just the position of the mouthpiece that’s the real difference. And my tuba embouchure is just completely different. The fact that I don’t have any mouthpiece pressure makes switching between the two instruments during the same hour (which happens often for me at church) is cake.
Make every experience a positive experience.
Playing in an orchestra (or any ensemble, really) should be a fun experience pretty much all of the time. Shouldn't it? I play music, and I decided to pursue it as a profession, because I like to do it. Period. No matter the situation, or the music I'm playing, or the people I'm working with. If it ever becomes not fun for me, then I should probably stop doing it.
That will always be reflected with me whenever I am playing horn. I always enjoy playing horn no matter what I'm playing. I enjoy practicing, playing in a rehearsal, playing an audition, and playing a concert. Always. No matter how exciting or boring my part is. I feel sorry for those who don't enjoy practicing. It's the most free and controlled playing environment one can have. I hear a lot of people saying they have no fun at auditions. To me, the challenge and pressure is quite exciting.
The fact that I always am enjoying horn playing should be reflected in my personality. I should always be in a good mood in rehearsal. I always aim to be nice and respectful to those I work with and play for, no matter how much I disagree with them. I know my positive attitude has the possibility to influence others.
I play my instrument. I don’t work my instrument.
Be ready for anything.
This is my personal motto, and a good point to end on. It’s a culmination of all the points highlighted above, and then some.
Obviously, it’s really about being ready for anything. I need to be ready for anything that falls onto my stand, so I make sure I’m well-practiced at sight-reading (which is one of my strong suits). I need to be able to transpose anything, so I have my transpositions memorized. I need to have as much knowledge I can about the piece that I can (should I know the piece(s) I’m to play before the first rehearsal) and be able to play it. It’s simply about being ready and prepared to make music with an ensemble.
It’s more than that though. I have to be ready for change in the ensemble setting. I have to be ready to adapt to the orchestra’s tendencies. I have to ready for a conductor to suggest a different playing style. I have to ready for any interesting surprises during a concert. I have to be ready for that potentially distracting person walking around back there.
This motto is the very basis of my performing drive. Being ready means I have to really push myself to be prepared and accepting of situations. If I’m not ready, things simply don’t go well, to put it plainly. One can only imaging how not being ready for any situation can affect it.
One big thing I’ve learned is that this whole performing thing is way harder than most other career fields. There’s so much psychology to it. But after a lot of thinking and observing and tutelage, I’ve also learned to not be so stressed about the challenges of performing, and to accept the career for what it is. Everyone has different approaches to this, some of which are not so positive. I just hope we can all get along when we work together, and show everyone how enjoyable music-making together can be.