Hi everyone. What a fun Pops concert! Great film music, and the Damon Castillo Band “rocked the house,” as the kids say. (Do they even say that anymore? I’ll have to ask my students). I’d never seen so many people dancing at a Pops concert. Dancing to the 1812 Overture is a little hard. I’d also never found dead gnats stuck to my forehead at intermission. I’m up for new experiences, but there are limits.
I’m getting ready to start teaching at Poly, entering pedagogue mode. Not easy after a summer off, so for help I’m going to channel Julia Child, or at least Meryl Streep doing Julia Child.
An “Ensemble” (said with authority in a flutey upper-class voice) is a group that’s performing, whether musical or otherwise. An ensemble should never be overcooked to the point of tastelessness. Be sure to lubricate the ensemble well with butter and duck fat… the best way to express the duck fat is with a press. How about dinner in half a minute for your ensemble! Omelette! Next on the French Chef!
I have no idea what she’s doing or what she’s talking about (my cooking skills extend to boiling water for French-press coffee) so I’ll stop the Julia imitation. However, I am an academic, and good at definitions. Lead with your strengths, here goes…
In addition to a performing group, “Ensemble” can also refer to what someone is wearing. For example: “Michelle Obama wore a stunning ensemble today.” Bare arms? Long sleeves? J Crew? Health care for millions of uninsured Americans? No more war? Stay tuned.
So what is Ensemble? Here’s an example of what NOT to do with ensemble playing, courtesy of Jack Benny and Liberace.
“Ensemble” also refers to the group of supporting actors, dancers, and singers in a theatrical production. That is, the ones who hope the lead actors will get sick/get old/die so they can take over their roles.
For musicians, though, “ensemble” means how well a group plays together.
I remember as a small child having one of those lightbulb-over-the head moments on the way home from one of my siblings’ band concerts. I’m the youngest of three; my sister played clarinet and my brother French horn. So as a kid I got carted to their High School Band, All-City Band, All-Region Band, All-State Band, All-Planet Band etc. concerts. I went to football games to watch them march at halftime, enduring the cold and the hard concrete bleachers. In many ways it was worth it. All that exposure to music must have rubbed off. I guess I was about five when returning home from a concert, I had the epiphany that the sounds I’d been hearing – indeed the sound of most music – came from individuals playing their own instruments, together. That really blew my mind – that this big wall of sound was really a mosaic of individual sounds, coming together as if by magic.
It’s not really magic, I later discovered, but the result of hard work. As far as I can tell, good ensemble boils down to a few basic principles. These are some that I’ve learned over the years. What follows will be common knowledge to symphony colleagues, but perhaps of some interest to them and other readers.
Don’t Rush (as in, don’t speed up the tempo of the music). This is easier said than done. When the adrenaline gets going, we want to speed up. For some reason, we tend to rush difficult passages (maybe to get them over with faster?). This must be a basic human tendency. For example, when people are nervous about public speaking, they tend to speak too quickly. Younger players (older too) rush during staccato passages, coming in early during the spaces between the notes.
Don’t Drag (as in, don’t slow down or play behind the beat). Often this problem is a result of fatigue; the body slows down, and so does the music. Or there may be technical issues with playing something in tempo. I tend to drag more than rush. I’m a Slow Panda. Or maybe I’m too in love with the sound of the viola. Either way, it’s a challenge.
Don’t Come in Wrong. The rule of thumb I’ve always heard is: don’t be the first one in. If you’re about to play, but no one else in the section is, chances are you’re wrong. Then again, we can’t be timid, waiting for someone else to come in. Cues from the conductor can help but can’t be solely relied on. Conductors have more to do than cue every single entrance.
Don’t Get Lost. I didn’t really learn counting till I was a sophomore in High School. Our orchestra conductor was really a band conductor (didn’t know jack about strings) so we mostly would sight read new music. As the only violist, I had a crash course in counting, which was tough since I’d done Suzuki till then, a method that involves playing by ear. After that, I learned to internalize the beat, to the point that when listening to radio, I find myself counting 1-2-3-4. One trick when counting rests is to use your fingers: the thumb is 1, index finger is 2, etc. Musicians get very good at counting to 3 and 4 over and over again. Too bad this skill doesn’t help with taxes or balancing the checkbook.
Don’t Don’t Don’t – this is all so very negative. What are some positive principles of ensemble?
Watch section leaders. Usually, someone is a section leader, or principal player, or first chair (I prefer the term “His Great-and-Powerful Viola Eminence”) because they tend to be “right” more often than not. Right about entrances, bow style, dynamics, breathing, etc. Though not always. As the viola section will affirm, my radar goes out with some regularity. Concentrating from 7:30-10 can be tough when you’ve just worked 9 to 5. What a way to make a livin’, barely getting’ by, it’s all takin’ and no givin’… (especially when the CSU institutes furloughs – stupid recession.)
That reminds me, this summer I found a great video of Dolly Parton performing at the Oscars. If you’re Dolly, you don’t need an “ensemble,” just a big stage and a big wig:
Listen. It’s important not to get so wrapped up in your own part that you become oblivious to the others. One always has to know whom one is playing with, and try to fit in with them. This is especially a challenge for violists. I think of the viola section as the sluts of the orchestra. Metaphorically, of course. We’re as moral as any other section (though I plead the fifth on my 20s). What I mean is, violists get around. Since we’re an inner voice, we play at various times with all the different sections. Sometimes we’re with the violins, doubling a line. Sometimes we’re reinforcing the cellos. Sometimes we’re with the winds and brass and even percussion. A real pleasure of playing the viola comes from this variety. That, and the beautiful sound the instrument makes.
Lighten up. This is Mary James’s mantra. When in doubt, lighten up. Don’t bear down in the thorny parts. Lighten up and let it happen, and then you can listen better. Easier said than done, as we tend to play louder when under stress. Weird how the exact opposite of this tendency is the solution.
Have fun. Last season, I was pretty nervous about playing the Mahler. It’s a tough viola part in many ways. And, you know, it’s f-ing Mahler, so that’s intimidating. About half way through the first movement, I remember thinking to myself, “This is sounding good. You’re here playing great music with great people. Enjoy it.” I did, and it got easier, and I played better.
I’ve heard theories about how a musical ensemble becomes sort of like its own organism, everyone thinking, breathing, moving, counting, and emoting together. Perhaps this is why the opening of a piece is so difficult – the group hasn’t synched up yet. It’s sort of like a blind date – you start off tentatively, but hopefully find common ground and connection. When you do, the results can be spectacular. I guess in some ways it really is like magic.
Before getting too New Agey, I’ll end with this video spoof of the Bartok Viola Concerto. Wish I’d learned this version!
Best, DH
PS: Viola joke – what’s the difference between the first and last stand of the viola section? 1. Half a measure 2. A semi-tone.
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