Interlude

Before I write Part 2 of my Arizona-Utah trip report, I want to write about last weekend, which I spent playing in the Maryland All State Concert Band. This was my second time participating in the annual event; the first was two years ago. Both times I barely made it into this group of elite members of volunteer community bands. This year, I was placed as last chair in the 19-member clarinet section.

The competition begins early in a musician's training. Within each instrumental section of a school orchestra or band there's a clear pecking order, based on the teacher's evaluation or on the number of points awarded by the judge in an audition. After I started taking private clarinet lessons in high school, I moved up the ladder rapidly, in my school and in the citywide and statewide ensembles. By my junior year I was one of about five clarinetists in the top tier. In any audition – for All State, the Phoenix Youth Symphony, etc. – we would be shuffled into a different order, but we would occupy the top chairs.

Never before in my life had I been placed in the very last chair! It didn't bother me (much). I did spend a few minutes debating whether I really wanted to pay the fee and devote the necessary practice time to participate, especially given that the event would come so close on the heels of my trip. I would have to practice intensely for several weeks, then be away for two weeks and return with only two days to get back in shape.

I'm so glad I decided to do it. The music was fiendishly difficult, of course, and I didn't feel adequately prepared as I arrived at the first rehearsal Saturday morning. But despite feeling lost for most of the morning, I gradually pulled my act together as I practiced with the full band under the direction of the excellent conductor, Dr. Harlan Parker, from the Peabody Conservatory.

There's a kind of alchemy that happens when you play music with an ensemble over time, whether it's a weekly rehearsal or an intensive weekend. The complexities of the music reveal themselves layer by layer, and you form deepening emotional connections with the music and with your fellow musicians.

As the final rehearsal began on Sunday morning, I was surprised at the energy I felt and at my much-improved ability to play my parts accurately (mostly) and at tempo. It also helped that the tech crew had finally worked out the glitches in the stage lighting and air conditioning.

Dr. Parker, who conducts the Maryland All State Concert Band each year, commented during the final rehearsal that each year he chooses more challenging music for this group. Our concert Sunday afternoon was stunning, and incredibly fun for me, as I played some sections that I had felt hopeless about a few days earlier (and of course missed some notes that I really should have nailed) and I felt like I fulfilled my last-chair responsibility to contribute my best to the ensemble.

For days after a performance like this, the music continues playing in my head, but not in an annoying way like an earworm. My mind changes tracks randomly, so I'll wake up in the morning with the Finale of the

Barnes Symphony, then later while walking or driving I'll be hearing "Molly on the Shore." It's delightful. It makes me realize that I should listen to more music in my daily life.

Here's a playlist of what's playing in my head these days.