Congratulations Dee! That really
serves you right — winning the Neill Humfeld Award for Excellence in
Trombone Teaching!
Thank you Carl. It really came as a
surprise, and I'm quite pleased about the whole thing.
Teaching runs in your family,
doesn't it? How about in music?
It's true that many from my family
were educators, mostly in public school, and there is even an occasional
music teacher. My history, however, is a bit out of the ordinary. I grew
up in a farming community, where the only real excitement was sports,
and I dabbled in that a little bit. My mother was a piano player, and
encouraged me to take part in solo and ensemble concerts, sing in
barbershop quartets and church and things like that.
When it came time to go to college, I
didn't have a clue as to what I wanted to do. I had taken a lot of math
and thought maybe engineering might be for me, but I didn't really know.
So I went to Ball State Teachers College on a music education degree
because I couldn't think of anything else to try. At that time, I heard
what I thought was real music, so actually I was already in college
before I made any kind of commitment to music.
The principal trombonist of the
Indianapolis Symphony, George Rhodes, came in and taught once a week. He
was a nice man and got me really excited about the trombone.
What kind of music were you
playing then?
I liked both jazz and classical, but
had to pick because it was so late. So I concentrated on classical and
really got into it during my freshman and sophomore years. About that
time, an older friend of mine, who had been to Chicago and taken lessons
with Arnold Jacobs, pushed me to call up Jacobs and take some lessons.
Would you count Arnold Jacobs as
a strong influence on your teaching?
Absolutely. I consider him as the
source of many of my concepts. Being able to go to Chicago every couple
of weeks and work with him really made a huge difference in my life. Up
to that time, there were only a lot of homespun ideas about how to play,
some of which were wonderful and some of which were simply wrong. People
would perceive little things that they did and thought that their
success was because of those little things, while they were actually
just by-products.
For example?
Well, throat tightness in the upper
range. When I was young I heard that sort of thing advocated as a way of
reaching the high range. A tight abdomen area is another example of a
very prevalent misconception.
Jacobs came along, and was pretty much
a natural player. He was already in the Chicago Symphony and had
students who couldn't do what he thought was so easy. He started
investigating it more from a scientific standpoint, studying cadavers
and talking to doctors. I was fortunate enough to catch up with him
about that time. He was pretty much thought of as a maverick during the
mid-1950s.
I joined the Philadelphia Orchestra in
1962, and I was the only brass player who had studied with Jacobs,
although Abe Torchinsky knew him, and they were good friends. I
mentioned his name a few times among the brass players in the orchestra
and some of them took great offense. I was just the new kid on the
block, so I shut up real quickly.
What do you think offended them?
I suppose you have to consider just
how innovative Jacob’s teaching was. Take buzzing on the mouthpiece,
for example. I had never seen anyone do that, and after learning about
it at a lesson, I went to a band rehearsal at Ball State, where I sat
next to my girlfriend and future wife, and buzzed on my mouthpiece.
Well, Rozella was astonished and exclaimed, "What an ugly
sound!"
Many years later, I was on a tour with
Summit Brass, and while we were all waiting for the bus to take us to
rehearsal, almost everyone was buzzing their mouthpiece! It was quite a
turn around, and I remember thinking that Jake would really be proud.
Who else influenced you?
I was fortunate to get into the
Philadelphia Orchestra at age 26, and before that I was in the New
Orleans Symphony, which was a very good orchestra. I'd have to say that
sitting for 18 years behind Bernie Garfield, solo bassoonist in
Philadelphia, was absolutely amazing. There was no technical demand on
the instrument that challenged that guy in any way. I didn't see his
face or fingers — only his back and shoulders. He would play through
the fastest or most demanding passages in the easiest, calmest, most
relaxed way. He never got in his own way, and you could tell that he had
simply figured out the most effective, efficient way to perform. So he
was a big influence on me.
Gil Johnson (solo trumpet) was another
one, and I knew him in both New Orleans and Philadelphia. I especially
like to think of how his playing led us in all those Philadelphia Brass
Ensemble recordings.
I
would have to say that the whole Philadelphia Orchestra influenced me
greatly, the concertmaster, the principal oboist and all the others.
When you are sitting in that kind of an ensemble at that high a level,
you simply perform that way and think that way. If you don't, then you
are out of place. In short, I was surrounded by colleagues who inspired
me.
Do you view inspiration as a
goal in your teaching?
Yes, but in a different way than you
may think. Let's think about the word "inspiration" for a
moment. There are different definitions, and here I am working with two
of them. One meaning has to do with breathing, as in inspiration as the
opposite of exhalation.
If a person can inhale properly, he'll
automatically sound good. Sometimes a student will take a breath to
play, and I'll call out, "good!" even though he hasn't played
a note yet.
Now the other kind of inspiration, the
mental inspiration, is the song. And so we have Jacob's famous
philosophy of wind and song, based on inspiration: The respiratory
inspiration and the inspiration of making music.
And what is your inspiration
behind teaching?
I'll have to answer that in a couple
of ways. Glenn Dodson said it nicely when he told me that he didn't
really begin to learn until he started teaching. I have to agree with
him. I learn every day by seeing the kids and their problems, and
solving those problems. But mainly I learn by having to pick up the horn
and demonstrate the right way to do it. That's a real learning
experience.
When I was in the Philadelphia
Orchestra and teaching, I really enjoyed it. But now there is an
excitement that has to do with working with people and seeing them
develop and progress. Even though I'm in a school with high standards,
my biggest excitement comes from having someone come back or call up
after a few years and know that they have a smile on their face. They
may be teaching elementary band or be a music repairman or whatever, but
they are happy. I think that's the important thing. I am certainly very
proud of my students who have gone on to become famous trombone players.
But I am most excited about the ones who, no matter what they do, are
happy with themselves. I have seen some who, although maybe outwardly
successful, are not happy with themselves, and that is too bad.
That is a theme of your
teaching that goes back to when I was your student.
I didn't think that you were listening
to me when I talked about that. You were only interested in playing the
trombone! But it is true, and I often lecture on this in my master
classes and seminars. Especially the undergraduates should look broadly
at the field of music. If you think of athletics you see that, in
addition to the players, there has to be someone to make the ball, the
uniform, the shoes, someone trained to follow the game with a camera,
someone to telecast, someone to write about it, and so on.
An example I like to think about is
Joe Santarlasci, assistant business manager of the Philadelphia
Orchestra for many years. He had been a bass player but realized that he
would never be great on that instrument. He loved music so he got
involved in the business part of music. He really enjoyed the hands-on
experience. He dealt with all the conductors and soloists and was right
in there where it was happening. He got along with those people very
well because he knew and loved music.
Another example is your former fellow
student Larry Tarlow (tuba) who is now the librarian with the New York
Philharmonic. So you see that it is important to look at the broad
picture and find a place where you will fit in. At IU we have many
performance majors, but also have music education majors, majors in
business, physics, acoustics, journalism and many other areas. I really
encourage that. I want them to develop on their instrument as much as
possible, but they can take that talent in any number of directions.
Although you have concentrated
highly on the area of performing and teaching, you have also been very
diverse, designing and marketing your euphonium stand and the books that
you have written.
In my case the profession has always
been concentrated on performance and pedagogy. In Philadelphia I taught
at Curtis, Temple and a little bit elsewhere. There wasn't time for more
teaching around the playing. Here at Indiana University it is the
reverse situation, with the teaching demanding the most time. I have,
however, enjoyed other projects, especially the books that you mention,
as well as performing recitals and master classes.
The Jacobs book. Legacy of a Master
was a sabbatical project, but because it is not a biography or a method
book, it was hard to find the right shelf for it m the publishing
business. Finally, Jim Rohner from the Instrumentalist saw it and
published it, and it has been a big success. Everywhere I go, people
know the book and have recommended it to their students.
I really enjoyed the Farkas
book too.
But
the Farkas book didn't quite do the same thing, maybe because Farkas'
philosophy of playing was already well presented in his own books.
Farkas and Kleinhammer were real leaders in the profession through their
books. When I took music education, those books were already available,
and were required reading. (Arnold Jacobs, The Legacy of a Master, ©1987,
and Philip Farkas, The Legacy of a Master © 1992. Both are available
from: The Instrumentalist Publishing Co., Northfield, Illinois)
You have taught in many
situations, and here at Indiana University you are obviously in one of
the best teaching/learning environments in our country. What, in your
opinion, is the optimal teaching/learning set-up?
Well, when I announced that I was
leaving the orchestra to come to IU and teach, Dave Wetherill, who by
then was co-principal horn in Philadelphia, told me that the most
beneficial thing about Curtis was its close proximity to the
Philadelphia Orchestra. He had found a way to sneak into the Academy of
Music and listen to rehearsals. So his biggest learning experience was
observing, hearing and seeing how that orchestra functioned. That sort
of observation is important and can apply to any area, even to observing
somebody teaching, playing jazz, researching, or whatever. Find the best
and observe it as much as you can.
Along these lines, I play a lot in
lessons, play duets and demonstrate. Students can then develop a better
concept of what they are striving for. We don't want sheer imitation,
but rather demonstrate so that they can get a sense about the ease of
playing, about musicianship, how to turn a phrase and things of that
nature.
So I would say that the optimum
situation is one where there is a good opportunity for observation at
the very highest level. It is also important to have the opportunity for
interaction with teachers and players, maybe just socially, out in the
hall, between classes or whatever. That opportunity is one of the nice
things about a university setting
Do you have to motivate your
students?
At the college level the students are
generally highly motivated. They are practicing and can already be
selective in what they do. For me progress itself is the greatest
motivator, and you do want them to progress. Performance majors should
progress to the point of going to auditions and being competitive. But
progress can be subjective and hard to rate. Sometimes we get really
great young players who can play very high and very loud, but four or
five years later, you are not going to have them playing any higher or
louder, for example. This is different than, for example, a football
player who starts here. He'll even look different in three or four
years. He'll bulk up and actually progress physically.
A trombone player isn't going to look
different. It might be hard to objectively rate his accomplishments on a
chart, but subjectively we hope that he learns to really make music, and
that implies all the tools of the trade, such as tone quality,
efficiency of production and so on. I would like for them to leave my
studio after four or five years working much less hard than when they
came in. We don't want to make it harder; we want to make it easier.
Do you ever have to deal with
stagnation?
Yes. Sometimes people simply run out
of steam or actually change their mind about what they want. I was a
late bloomer, and it was really exciting for me. Some who have already
done very well in high school might lose the excitement later. The
really good musicians are also generally very bright and may have other
interests that they want to pursue and develop. I think this is
perfectly okay and I try not to stand in the way. But it can mean that a
person may not become as good a player as I think he could. Usually
these people are better off in the big picture of all around life than
they would be if they had ignored these other interests in order to
concentrate solely on the trombone.
So to answer your question, learning
curves go up and down, they have plateaus and regressions. Sometimes a
student will have a month or two where he won't play very well, but as
he solves that problem there will be a big upward surge again.
Some of these things can be very
discouraging to the student. He hears himself day-to-day, even
minute-to-minute, but the teacher only hears him once as week. The
parents or the former band director only hear him during the holidays.
Once you have reached a certain level, the progress is actually pretty
slow when looking at it on a day-to-day basis. You don't learn any new
"vocabulary" or formulas; you just try to get a little bit
better. But on a semester or yearly basis there should be growth and
progress.
It varies with the individual, and of
course many students have other things going on in their lives that need
attention. There is an awful lot to know about those kids who come in
for lessons.
Are today's kids different than
a generation ago?
My first inclination is to say that
they aren't. In groups they might be, but one on one? I don't think so.
What is the most unusual or
bizarre thing that you have done to get an idea across?
Well, my pinwheels might be considered
bizarre. All of my student have pinwheels. Jacobs has all of his fancy
devices, and I have some scientific equipment and dials and things too,
but a pinwheel gives you a goal. When you throw a ball you have a
target. We are throwing air, but air is an invisible product. We don't
have a target and we can't see it travel.
Consequently, we start thinking
internally. We start to think about what we are doing instead of where
the thing is going. With the pinwheel, we not only have a target, but
also can also see how fast or how much we are blowing. You can blow it
slow or fast and see the result. It is just perfect.
I'm sure some of my students think
it is pretty bizarre, but it works.
What are generally the most
difficult cases?
Generally it has to do with
motivation. I've had one or two over the years who were signed up for
lessons but were simply not motivated. The saddest cases are the ones
who get in trouble with drugs or something, and you – well – just
lose them.
How about problem cases,
playing wise? Sometimes people get totally cramped up in their
technique.
Well, the Valsalva maneuver is a very
interesting situation. You've seen people who take a breath but then
cramp up and can't blow. They cannot get the note started. If you
conduct or count off or play with them then there is no problem. But if
you ask them to play a tuning note or start a phrase by themselves they
just can't do it.
When I first saw this I didn't have a
clue about it. So I did a little study on it and have been able to
address it pretty successfully. Valsalva was a scientist in the late
17th and early 18th century. He discovered this phenomenon
that the body does, for example in coughing or sneezing. A sneeze is
"ah- choo". The "ah" is the inspiration and the
"choo" is the explosion, and between the two you just catch,
grip it and can't let go. The trunk of the body has tremendous power,
and pressure builds up. It is the same thing when you lift weights,
defecate, go through childbirth or get ready for someone to hit you in
the stomach. It is a natural reflex, and curiously it almost always
happens to the really desirous, caring players at a high level. This
thing hits them and they don't know what to do. You take the breath in
and stop before you put it back out. If the body senses that cough-like
catch, then you're in trouble. Tommy Dorsey wrote in his method book
that you should start to play before you finish breathing in.
Going beyond the physical and
technical aspects of playing, do you have a philosophical approach to
teaching?
I'm very interested in the psychology
of music making and the idea of trying to get away as quickly as
possible from the mechanics of playing in order to start making music.
It is not a mechanical technique that we are trying to accomplish. We
are trying to use the technique as a tool to say something. Sometimes it
is very difficult even for the advanced students to get away from the
mechanical thinking and focus the attention on music making, so I spend
a lot of time on that.
Do you have certain semantic
techniques that you use in trying to transmit your ideas?
Yes, and that's why a great deal of
teaching has to be one on one. Each person who enters the studio has to
be approached in a unique manner. A great deal can and should be done in
a group, but to develop confidence, to encourage, or point them in a
direction they haven't thought of yet — these things are best done one
on one.
Do you see certain trends in
trombone playing?
Certainly. There are big changes.
Players are doing things now that we never even thought about doing –
not that some of the great players back then couldn't have done them.
Avant garde playing has changed things a lot.
Through the pioneering of Stu Dempster or Albert Mangelsdorf,
just to name two, the rest of us are asked to do things that we didn't
used to do. Areas have been opened up that weren't even known or thought
of back when I was a student. There are also equipment trends. It seems
as though everyone plays with an F-attachment now. It used to be that a
first chair trombonist in a symphony orchestra would always play a
straight horn. I also have to mention the more frequent use of the alto
trombone on literature that seems appropriate for that instrument.
Where are we going with the
trombone today? The orchestra surely can't be the goal for everyone.
What else is there for the aspiring trombone student?
In my lifetime it has been amazing
what has happened. When I joined the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1962,
there were basically no brass quintets, and very little written for
them. Although I knew that the New York Brass Quintet performed some and
that the fellows in the Chicago Symphony had made a quintet record, but
there was no one making a living of it until the Canadian Brass came
along. They opened up something that no one ever really thought about,
and they have been tremendously successful. Now there are brass quintets
all over the place, and some are making pretty good money.
It was the same with trombone
soloists. Nobody played a trombone concerto or even a recital. Playing a
concerto with an orchestra was absolutely unheard of. In my 18 years in
Philadelphia, Glenn Dodson played one concerto. Now a lot of major
players are playing a concerto a year. I just got back from San Antonio
where Larry Bird played the Zwilich bass trombone concerto with
orchestra on the same program as Ein Heldenleben. It is no longer
an uncommon thing. Christian Lindberg opened that up for the rest of us.
You have been dedicated to the
profession for many years now, have seen and even set many trends. Maybe
it is your Hoosier mentality that keeps you from boasting about your
accomplishments, but I know that you are rightfully pleased about the
things you have accomplished, and the lives you have touched.
Well, it is true that I have been
blessed with many fine former students
That can be taken a couple of
ways!
You know how I mean it. I'm very I’m
proud of my former students! A lot of my success as a teacher comes from
I being able to choose from high quality I applicants. If you pick the
right people and stay out of their way, they will go on to become very
good players.
There are some, though, where I really
think that I did have something to do with their success; partially
through their ability to play the horn better, but also through
encouragement in the avenues that they took.
Dee, I think that is a typical
understatement, but I thank you very much for the interview,
congratulate you once more on the Humfeld prize, and wish you many, many
more fine former students!
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Carl Lenthe
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Dee Stewart
