TuBassoon at U-Nite

TuBassoon at U-Nite

TuBas­soon with mod­ern dancers dur­ing a U-Nite promo shoot for Good Day Sacra­mento. (Craig Koscho, Sac State Pub­lic Affairs)

On the evening of April 11th, I per­formed as part of the sec­ond annual U-Nite, a mini-festival of the arts at Sacramento’s Crocker Art Museum. The event fea­tured fac­ulty and stu­dents from the var­i­ous parts of Sacra­mento State’s Col­lege of Arts and Let­ters. Per­form­ers and exhibitors were sta­tioned around the museum, pre­sent­ing short pro­grams of music, dance, film, the­ater, visual arts, and the writ­ten word. My col­league Julian Dixon and I played in one of the gal­leries as the duo TuBassoon.

Sur­rounded by gor­geous Cal­i­for­nia land­scape paint­ings, we played 25–30 min­utes of music drawn from numer­ous sources. We had pre­vi­ously played P.D.Q. Bach’s “Dutch” Suite for bas­soon and tuba, so that was an easy choice. Although there are at least a cou­ple of other works writ­ten specif­i­cally for bas­soon and tuba, we ended up adapt­ing the rest of our reper­toire from other sources. We played the first move­ment of Mozart’s gor­geous Sonata, K. 292 (for bas­soon and cello), one move­ment of a Tele­mann canonic sonata, and a suite of short tuba duets by Wal­ter Sear.

The morn­ing of U-Nite, Julian and I were part of a live seg­ment on the morn­ing show Good Day Sacra­mento. We’re play­ing P.D.Q. Bach’s “Pan­ther Dance” in the back­ground while reporter Court­ney Dempsey inter­views U-Nite’s organizers:

Inci­den­tally, if TuBas­soon con­tin­ues, we might just have to make Courtney’s descrip­tion our motto. Tubas­soon: A lil’ tuba, a lil’ bassoon.

After our evening per­for­mance, I was able to catch City­wa­ter’s per­for­mance of a new piece by Stephen Blum­berg, which was great. But unfor­tu­nately, between grab­bing a bite to eat from the museum café, get­ting set up, and talk­ing to audi­ence mem­bers after our per­for­mance, that was all I was able to take in. But this video col­lage from Sac State’s Office of Pub­lic Affairs pro­vides an excel­lent overview of what I missed, and shows off the excel­lent range and diver­sity of the event:

New Wave Bassoon

Mo 45rpm Single  Cover

In my ongo­ing quest to find bas­soons in unex­pected places, I’ve uncov­ered a new gem. The Mo (or some­times sim­ply “Mo”) was a Dutch New Wave band formed in 1979 by broth­ers Clemens and Huub de Lange. The band had a cou­ple of incar­na­tions, but its ini­tial lineup included singer Heili Helder, drum­mer Harm Bieger, Clemens de Lange on key­boards, and Huub de Lange on key boards and — you guessed it — bas­soon. Huub de Lange appears to be known mostly as a choral com­poser now; here’s his Choral­Wiki page. I wrote to him ask­ing some ques­tions about the band, but got no response.

A num­ber of the songs on The Mo’s epony­mous 1980 album include bas­soon. But one song in par­tic­u­lar stands out. “Band With Bas­soon” not only includes Huub de Lange’s bas­soon play­ing, but is also self-referentially about a band that uses a bas­soon! “Band With Bas­soon” also appears on a 45rpm sin­gle from the album (the cover of the sin­gle can be seen above). Here it is:

Listen to The Mo - Band With Bassoon

I’ve done my best to tran­scribe the lyrics, but there’s a line of two in the third verse that I just can’t quite make out. If you can fig­ure out what she’s singing there, please let me know.

So, guess what we found on the moon
Down in the crater lake
Don’t think our story is fake
A band with bassoon

So, can you imag­ine our joy
They cap­tured us with their sound
Know­ing they couldn’t go wrong
The band with bassoon

Boy, […play­ing a…]
Just a [lit­tle child]
So he said: “Bas­soon band,
You’ll be the star in our land”

Then, we got into the ship
Takin’ ‘em back to the earth
And we sang “Bas­soon band,
You’ll be the star in our land”

So, they’re rock­ing the world with their tune
Young kids, they shout for more
They never seen that before
A band with bassoon

YouTube, that great repos­i­tory of for­got­ten cul­ture, has two videos of The Mo in action. Both seem to be taken from about twelfth-generation tape copies of TV broad­casts, but they’re still watch­able. The first is a song called “Nancy” that fea­tures Huub de Lange rock­ing out front and cen­ter on bas­soon in a shiny bright blue 80s outfit:

 

There’s no bas­soon play­ing in “Fred Astaire,” but de Lange has his horn at the ready in a stand next to his keyboard:

The $3 Bassoon Reed Case

Case With Reeds

The $3 Reed Case

I have a num­ber of nice reed cases: a leather-covered three-reed case that came with my bas­soon, a nine-reed wooden case by Wise­man, and a cou­ple of beau­ti­ful maple cases by Roger Gar­rett. But I always seem to need more lit­tle boxes for trans­port­ing reeds for stu­dents, stash­ing French or period bas­soon reeds, or just to hold over­flow from my other cases. My go-to for this sort of thing is the tried-and-true Altoids tin. But Altoids tins are just slightly the wrong dimen­sions to be a truly space-efficient reed case, and as a result I’ve always got my eye out for other lit­tle tins or boxes. Ver­mints tins are a marked improve­ment (they’re a bit wider and shal­lower than Altoids tins). But I recently stum­bled across some lit­tle hinged plas­tic boxes at the Con­tainer Store that are nearly perfect.

Reed Case Tools and Materials

Reed Case Tools and Materials

Best of all, they’re only $2 a pop. Add a ~$1 sheet of foam from a craft store and some tools you almost cer­tainly already have lying around, and you’ve got a seven-reed case for about $3. Here’s all you’ll need to make one:

Mate­ri­als:

Tools:

  • Duco cement
  • X-acto or util­ity knife
  • ruler

You can buy specially-made strips of reed foam from Reeds ‘n Stuff. I’ve used them, and they work well. But the foam hold­ers in my Wise­man case hold reeds in a more com­pact fash­ion, so I decided to basi­cally copy that design for this case. The Wise­man foam isn’t a purpose-made strip but is actu­ally made up of mul­ti­ple lit­tle pieces glued together: tall pieces to go between reeds, short pieces to go under them, and long strips at the top and bot­tom to hold it all together. Using that method I can fit seven reeds in this 94mm-wide plas­tic case; the Reeds ‘n Stuff strip would only fit five in the same space.

Foam Pieces

Empty Box and Foam Pieces

The first step is to cut lit­tle pieces out of the foam sheet. The pre­cise dimen­sions will depend on the thick­ness of your foam — mine is 5mm thick. I decided to make the top and bot­tom strips 6mm wide and the entire cen­ter assem­bly 15mm wide. The cen­ter assem­bly is made up of eight 12mm x 15mm blocks (placed ver­ti­cally) and seven 7mm x 15mm blocks (placed hor­i­zon­tally). I neglected to get a good pic­ture of the foam assem­bly itself, but you should be able to fig­ure out how it’s put together from the fin­ished case pictures.

After I cut out all the foam bits, I did a dry fit in the plas­tic box. I hadn’t accounted for the box’s beveled edges, so I had to trim a bit of foam off the cor­ners of the end pieces. After a lit­tle trial and error, I had every­thing fit­ting snugly. I made sure the foam assem­bly was squared up to the edges of the box, and then I used my knife to lightly score the box’s bot­tom to mark the foam’s posi­tion. I removed the foam, and then used some sand­pa­per to rough up the plas­tic where the foam would be glued in. The box’s sur­face is very smooth, so rough­ing it up a bit pro­vides the glue with a bet­ter sur­face to which to adhere.

Then, it’s just a mat­ter of apply­ing glue to the box and to the appro­pri­ate areas of each piece of foam (where they’ll con­tact the box or other foam), and assem­bling it all. I put in the upper nar­row strip first, then built the cen­ter assem­bly from left to right, then applied the bot­tom nar­row strip to square it all up. I cut some more bits of foam in basi­cally a reverse pat­tern so that clos­ing the case clamped it all together while the glue dried. I picked Duco because that’s some­thing we bas­soon­ists tend to have lying around, but cyano­acry­late (super glue) may actu­ally be a bet­ter choice for this sort of plas­tic. Time will tell if I need to re-glue anything.

Since I’m plan­ning to use this as an aux­il­iary reed case, I didn’t bother punch­ing any holes in it. But if you plan to use one of these on a day-to-day basis and antic­i­pate putting your reeds away wet, you should pro­vide it with some form of ven­ti­la­tion. I bet a sol­der­ing iron could melt nice lit­tle air holes in this plas­tic — don’t breathe in the fumes, though.

Two Views of the Finished Case

Two Views of the Fin­ished Case

One note about using this case: the reeds are so close together that you have to tilt them slightly to fit them all in (you can see the tilt­ing and over­lap in the photo above). I’ve done this for years with my Wise­man case, but it might seem a lit­tle strange if you’ve never done it before. There’s plenty of ver­ti­cal clear­ance on both sides for the reeds to sit safely this way, and if you treat both reeds and case with the proper care, this con­fig­u­ra­tion shouldn’t cause any problems.

Zwilich Bassoon Concerto

When I was work­ing on my Master’s degree at Florida State, I had the great for­tune to have a les­son with Pulitzer Prize-Winning com­poser Ellen Taaffe Zwilich on her Con­certo for Bas­soon and Orches­tra (1992). At the time, I wrote up a lit­tle report on my expe­ri­ence and posted it on a pre­vi­ous incar­na­tion of my web site. I’d more-or less for­got­ten about it (the post, not the expe­ri­ence!) until a cou­ple of days ago. My friend and fre­quent col­lab­o­ra­tor Nico­lasa Kuster men­tioned that she’d found it while search­ing for infor­ma­tion on the con­certo. I’ve decided to repost my expe­ri­ences here, with just a few edits for clarity.

Lately, I’ve been work­ing on Ellen Taaffe Zwilich’s bas­soon con­certo. I wanted to work on some­thing new (to me) for this year’s con­certo com­pe­ti­tion. I con­sulted with pro­fes­sor [Jef­frey] Keesecker, and he sug­gested either the Jolivet Con­certo or the Zwilich. Both are tough, but he said that the Zwilich is more both audi­ence– and performer-friendly. I ordered a CD, lis­tened to the piece, and decided to play it. Another rea­son for choos­ing the Zwilich is that she is on fac­ulty at FSU. She is the Fran­cis Eppes Dis­tin­guished Pro­fes­sor of Com­po­si­tion, but is only in res­i­dence for one week each semes­ter. A few weeks ago, I found out that she’d soon be in town, and I man­aged to get an appoint­ment with her.

I was quite ner­vous in the days lead­ing up to my les­son. I’d been prac­tic­ing the piece like crazy. After all, it’s not every day that you play a Pulitzer Prize-winning composer’s piece for her. When I arrived at the appointed time, I found that Dr. Zwilich had been double-booked. I had some time to spare, so I let the other stu­dent, who is pur­su­ing a Mas­ters in com­po­si­tion, go first. I waited out­side for half an hour, then my turn came.

Dr. Zwilich was very laid-back and friendly. She said that while she’d enjoyed writ­ing for the bas­soon, she doesn’t com­pletely under­stand the instru­ment, and cer­tainly doesn’t under­stand why any­one would want to play it. I have to say that I often agree with her! Appar­ently when Nancy Goeres, the prin­ci­pal bas­soon­ist of the Pitts­burgh Sym­phony and ded­i­ca­tee of the work, exam­ined the first move­ment of the work-in-progress, she said that she liked it, but that it needed to be harder to be a con­certo. So, Zwilich turned around and wrote a sec­ond move­ment based on octa­tonic scales with lots of sixteenth-note runs at quar­ter note equals 168bpm. When Goeres received that move­ment she asked, “What did I do, wave a red cape at a bull?”

I started by ask­ing a few ques­tions about artic­u­la­tion, phras­ing, and her nota­tion. Then, I played the first move­ment and much of the sec­ond (and final) move­ment. Dr. Zwilich seemed quite happy with what I was doing, and was com­pli­men­tary of my play­ing. She had a few gen­eral com­ments about the first move­ment, and offered some sug­ges­tions for attack­ing the blaz­ingly fast sec­ond move­ment. She also wanted me to change a cou­ple of things in the sec­ond move­ment cadenza. For­tu­nately, many of her sug­ges­tions and changes will actu­ally make the piece eas­ier to play.

We ended up going twenty min­utes over into the next person’s time, so I got almost the full hour I’d been allot­ted, despite her being dou­ble booked. Before I left, she com­pli­mented my play­ing again, and asked me to keep her posted about my progress in the con­certo com­pe­ti­tion. I’m very glad that I had the chance to talk to and be coached by Ellen Zwilich. It’s not often that a musi­cian, let alone a stu­dent, is offered the chance to work one-on-one with an emi­nent com­poser on one of their pieces.

Although I didn’t end up win­ning the com­pe­ti­tion, I did per­form the Con­certo in reduc­tion (with piano and per­cus­sion) a cou­ple of times in the fol­low­ing year or two. It’s prob­a­bly about time for me to revisit the piece!

CSU Stanislaus Recital Poster and Streaming

Many thanks to Kristina Stam­per at the CSU Stanis­laus School of the Arts for cre­at­ing this won­der­ful poster for my upcom­ing recital. You can watch the con­cert live (Feb. 21, 7:30pm Pacific) on the web right here.

Down­load the full con­cert pro­gram.

CSU Stanislaus Recital Poster