First violinists must be able to anticipate every note a few bars in advance, and know the piece by heart, including that of the second violinists, because hey, you’ve got to keep your eyes on them. They also require a special bond with the conductor, if only because they sit so close (okay, they also happen to carry the lead melody or first voice). First and second violinists are a breed apart from the viola. Viola players tend to be a little more modest. Or the percussionist. Who calmly plods along to the rhythm of his timpani drum. Sure he knows the piece, but… you’ve either got it or you haven’t, guys. And if you’ve got it, you set the pace - a left turn here and you deftly switch to 8 beats per bar, a right, to 15. No Problemos, bring on the Shostakovich.
Then there are the cellists and those who play the double bass. They might not stand out from the rest of the orchestra, but boy, do you feel them. Even if they’re not exactly Yo-Yo Ma. The big string instruments, the undercurrent that firmly underpins everything else with their beautiful, resonant sound. Horn players - again, another breed entirely. They play with their lips puckered against copper, silver, gold or wood, and are thus closer to their instruments. You certainly won’t find the violinist with his bow clenched between his teeth, the conductor merrily sucking his thumb, or the percussionist with his drumsticks slung casually behind his ears. Which would be pretty impressive, by the way. But those horn players, they’re a different kettle of copper.
It’s strange really. When people think of a piece of music, they automatically think of the first violin. Me too. That is until you start to notice the little trumpet doing its thing. I don’t mean the official trumpet in the brass section, but rather another, more ordinary little trumpet. The one who hasn’t yet learned each piece by heart, is occasionally a little out of synch, perhaps looking at the wrong score completely, or worse still, scanning the hall once too often to check if so-and-so has arrived. Oops, sorry conductor, I just didn’t see you. It happens, you know. The little trumpet may have prepared, but not excessively. And that’s a good thing. To trust in your own ability, even if you haven’t the faintest idea how things will turn out. That sounds like courage, and I suppose it is. At least, courage accounts for fifty percent it. The rest is comprised of: I’ll-just-wait-and-see (10%), I-hope-that-the-others-have-rehearsed (10%) and...and then there’s that other 30%. Which is where the Trust comes in. Trust is something that you simply cannot buy, borrow, mimic… whatever. Only build.
How?
In trumpet speak – by tooting like nobody’s business.
Thank you, Scottish Trumpet, for tooting this one into English.
