Not Waving But Drowning

Imagine you have a hobby. Maybe you do. Perhaps you like to paint. Or play netball. Or build models of San Francisco out of toothpicks.

You get the idea.

Most of the people I come across in my regular working life have a hobby: they play a musical instrument.

Incidentally, before I get on to the main business of this blog, I must urge you, if you haven’t already done so, to seek out and befriend an amateur musician. Two or three, why not? If you can steer them away from subjects like Bruckner symphonies, awkward fingerings in Sibelius tone poems, and the relative merits of recordings of Wagner’s Ring Cycle, they are extraordinarily invigorating and enjoyable company. What’s more, the standard achieved by amateur orchestras and choirs in this country is little short of staggering - as if I, a dedicated but limited Sunday cricketer, were taking on a County attack and scoring fifties, if not hundreds, on a regular basis.

If you are neither a cricket nor a classical music fan, you may not have made it through that last paragraph. Sorry about that.

Anyway, let me return to my muttons, as the saying very nearly has it.

My hobby is standing in front of the aforementioned musicians waving my arms, all the while hoping that my efforts will in some way improve the sound they are making. Luckily for me, I also make my living from it. I understand this is what is known nowadays as a win/win.

You may not know anything about classical music. Even if you do, it’s probable that you’re ignorant about exactly what it is that conductors do.

Yes, that’s right, we collect the fares.

Ha ha.

Well done.

May I continue?

The art of conducting (and yes it is an art, but this is the last time I will take it seriously in this post) is so complex that several widthy books have been written about it, a lot of them as off target as this penalty kick. They will typically include diagrams of what we in the trade call ‘beating patterns’ - ‘different ways of waving your arms around’ to anyone else - the practice of which can cause the budding conductor severe muscular and frontal lobe injuries should they not exercise due care and attention.

These very gestures, finely honed over decades of intensive and draining study, are the selfsame ones that are ignored by orchestras the world over, from Aalborg to Zanzibar (both now permissible in Scrabble, incidentally).

This is the natural way of things. Orchestras know best.

But what do these gestures mean?

Well it’s complicated. Let me talk you through some of the gestures that make up the average (and believe me, we’re mostly average) conductor’s stock-in-trade.

The All-Purpose ‘Starting-Everyone-Off’ Gesture
Otherwise known as the ‘upbeat’ (a misnomer if ever there was one), this is usually a nervous upwards jerk with both arms, somewhere during the fallout of which the benighted orchestra is expected to play together. The conductor, sensing an ominous silence of the kind not experienced since Marcel Marceau and Harpo Marx went on a day trip to a trappist monastery, then jiggles his arms about a bit on the way down, in the hope that someone, somewhere, will interpret it as an invitation to play.

This renders the meaning of the gesture, already oblique, completely impenetrable.

The ‘Oh Bugger I’ve Started Too Fast’ Flail
The trouble with this one, which resembles little more than a flightless bird trying to defy gravity and evolution simultaneously, is that it simply gets in the way. The damage is done. The orchestra, which, remember, always knows best, has already gone off at the speed you gave them with your first gesture (see above). Too late now, mate. If you wave your arms slower, half of them will go with you, and the other half will stay the same speed. The music will die, and it will be your fault.

Music-murderer. Blood on your hands. Shame on you.

The ‘You Shouldn’t Have Played There’ Shimmy
Usually directed at a player who has been sitting around doing nothing for a while, like a trombonist (and before all the trombonists reading this start complaining, and you know who you are, just take a long hard look in the mirror and then tell me I’m wrong).

Where was I?

Oh yes. The shimmy. The way it works is this:

1. The player, whether trombonist or not, has not had anything to play for a while, and has lost track of where they are. This is emphatically the composer’s fault for not giving them enough to do.
2. Thinking they recognise the bit the second clarinet has just played, they hastily stop playing ‘Words For Free’ on their iPhone, pick up their instrument and start playing music instead.
3. Loudly.
4. In a quiet bit.
5. The conductor, sensing something is wrong, but not sure exactly what, looks up, sees guilty trombonist (let’s say - it’s just a hypothetical example, for God’s sake, don’t be so touchy) and gives ‘em the shimmy.

The shimmy requires co-ordination: the left hand must clearly send the message to the errant player ‘you’ve come in two bars early, but it’s ok we all make mistakes, now all you have to do is keep calm and start the next bit, you know the one starting with the rising diminished fifth...HERE!’; the right hand must continue conveying flowing rhythm and expression to the rest of the orchestra as if nothing untoward was going on. The effect should resemble an expert maitre d’ removing a fly from a customer’s wine glass while diverting his attention with a well-directed compliment about his tie.

It usually looks more like a startled man hiding a pornographic magazine from his wife.

The ‘More Expression’ Left-Hand Flemble
A cross between a flap and a tremble, this gesture is designed to encourage a more expressive style of playing (usually, for some reason, from the first violins. Probably because they’re nearest). Unfortunately, as the co-ordination required to execute the gesture takes up all of the conductor’s available RAM, it usually results in stasis of the right hand, and the music, more often than not, falls apart just a teensy bit.

This can engender a modicum of panic in the ranks, which in turn leads to:

The ‘Getting-It-All-Going-Again’ Thrash
The conductor is under the impression that faster and larger gestures will be clearer.

Wrong.

It just looks as if he is drowning.

Eventually everything settles down, and the musicians remember that the conductor is like the national speed limit: everyone ignores him, but it's kind of comforting to know he’s there. They can then get on with the business of listening to each other and playing together (driving safely) while very occasionally slowing down to sixty-eight miles an hour (watching the conductor) when they see a police car (when they think he's looking).

After a while we come to:

‘The Wrapping-It-All-Up’ Lung
Somehow, the music needs to stop. Regardless of how they negotiate the final bars, the conductor must do one of two things, depending on the circumstances.
If the music finishes loudly: stiff outstretched arms, open mouth.
If the music finishes quietly: exaggeratedly long silence after the final chord, closed eyes.

NB These are not optional.

As the applause begins, a relieved smile and nodding head are usual. These purport to mean ‘well done everyone, you were great' but actually mean 'well done me, I'm great, aren't I?'

So there you have it. A crash course in conducting. Why not give it a go yourself?

Next week: the rehearsal, including 'Stopping After You've Made A Mistake And Pretending You Heard A Wrong Note In The Woodwind Section’ and 'Anecdotes - How And When To Tell Them'.

Comments

[JustAnotherFiddler]

You left out the opposite to the Shimmy, the "Where's My Oscar Moment" Death Stare, directed at the timpanist who misses the biggest cue you give all evening, making you look a bit silly...

[njhamer]

Look, it's not always 'Words With Friends' as you tend not to take your turn during rehearsals. It's either the Guardian crossword or the football scores. For shame.

[The Sis In Law]

Methinks the Conductor doth self deprecate a tad too much. And, knowing a trombone player or two, of course it's always them :D
Looking forward to Part 2 et al.
x

[trickygirl]

This is oh so familiar... In my younger days I played clarinet in several school orchestras (and was a chorister), for my sins. Our conductor was a touch eccentric to say the least, and he used to bring us in with a cry of "All together one at a time", which used to confuse some of the less alert musicians...

[Edward Solomon]

I'm guessing, as I'm the second trombonist to post a response to this, that this must make me the other of the "trombonist or two" referred to above. Incidentally, Lev, for the record, it's more often a case of the parts having appallingly poor instrumental cues (you mean you think we can actually hear that low flute entry?!), bad copy errors (yes, occasionally, especially with Kalmus parts, there are incorrect bar numbers, rests, notes, dynamics, expressions - need I go on?), and, of course, miscounting (or not counting at all in the (mistaken?) hope that the conductor will subconsciously recognise the need for said trombonist's cue and bring him in correctly after 120 bars).

[Rob Workman]

As a trombonist (of the professional variety) I feel I must jump to my semi-professional colleagues defence here. Since reading this I have stared long and hard in the mirror and challenged njhamer to another game of "Words with Friends'. *Where are we? I dunno, he'll give us a cue....*

[JT]

Phew! Even the conductor admits the upbeat is an "impenetrable" gesture. Have made mental note of that for future reference.

[Lev Parikian]

Interesting to see the number of comments from trombonists here - glad to have got a reaction after years of effort ;-)
Who shall I take a potshot at in my next post?

[David Smith]

As someone who used to be a trombonist, I should refuse to comment on this post just so the author doesn't believe he's really touched a nerve.

But as another conductor of amateur orchestras, the ‘You Shouldn’t Have Played There’ Shimmy is remarkably familiar.

I look forward to 'Stopping After You've Made A Mistake And Pretending You Heard A Wrong Note In The Woodwind Section’, and could make myself very unpopular with other conductors by supplying names of the worst offenders in town!

[Jonathan West]

Ha! I have recently blogged about a similar experience - from the players' side.

I'm not going to name the guilty parties, but there was a definite tendency among a number of players to select a tempo for themselves, and then put their heads down and plough on regardless of what the conductor was doing.

You have to watch and listen

[Jonathan West]

OK, you're blog doesn't accept HTML tags. That last bit was supposed to be a link to here

http://jonathanhornthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/you-have-to-watch-and-listen.html

[Darin Wilson]

Most trenchant piece of wisdom I got from my conducting teacher in college:

"There are no mistakes in conducting: only disasters".

[Robert Onslow]

And remember the optional vocal accompaniments to these gestures. For example I recall that the Left Hand Flemble is often accompanied by an extended "Grote", a cross between a grunt and a note (not necessarily a relevant note), crescendoing and shaking in sync with the Flemble itself.

[trumpeter]

"has been sitting around doing nothing for a while, like a trombonist"

Why would the trombonists complain seeing as that's exactly what's written in the part that they have to do? :-)

Looking forward to the bits about 'Stopping After You've Made A Mistake And Pretending You Heard A Wrong Note In The Woodwind Section’ and 'Anecdotes - How And When To Tell Them'.

Will you also be revealing
(a) where all the anecdotes come from
(b) why do they in conducting school teach all conductors to stop rehearsing that bit just before the brass come in?