by Jason Ayoub, United States Navy Band
I have a confession to make: I really like to play loud…deafeningly loud! I’ve liked to blast since I started playing the horn. I grew up listening to the Chicago, Berlin, and the Vienna symphony brass sections in addition to film scores that highlighted the powerful sound of the horn. My models were wonderful, but I focused only on one aspect of what they could do. As soon as I could, I began blaring in every register and playing as many ear-splitting excerpts as possible. My first professional job was in a brass quintet, and my goal was to never let the horn’s sound be covered. Soon after, I won the United States Navy Band horn audition, and we prided ourselves on being the loudest military band in Washington D.C. For nearly 16 years I sat Principal and made sure I was always heard over the rest of the section (and sometimes over the entire band). As you might have guessed, all those years of loud playing finally caught up to me as I started to age. I began to get an occasional sting in the upper lip, but I reassured myself it wasn’t anything significant, and I would ease up a little in the next show. Unfortunately, I allowed myself this habit of playing too much, feeling pain, backing off, then starting the process again. I knew something had to change last summer when the pain didn’t subside, my endurance diminished, and I couldn’t keep up. I made the most difficult decision of my life and gave up playing in the band and moved into the IT office. Because the horn was a huge part of my life, I wouldn’t let this setback end my career. I rested a lot, received help, and started implementing new warm-up techniques in my everyday playing. Nearly a year and half later, I now play with more ease, and I am almost to the level I was before I started to notice problems. The reflection process throughout my healing was just as important as the rest and new warm-up routines. Everything that happened was avoidable, especially my perspectives on how great horn playing should sound. I would like to share those with you.
Listening to orchestra and movie recordings where the horns had a distinct characteristic encouraged me to emulate what I heard. No matter what horn I played—from an L-series Conn 8D to a large bore Lawson and a Schmid double—I wanted to create a powerful blend of those big Hollywood and European sounds. I spent countless hours working to create my ideal color, particularly in the louder dynamics. You’re probably wondering why that’s a problem: aren’t we supposed to work on those aspects of our playing? We are, but I was never satisfied with the sound I made while trying to achieve my concept. I felt I had to prove that I could bury the horn section, the brass section, and the band. What started as a desire to produce a powerful sound turned into a source of pride. It was this pride that kept me from backing down…and that even created an unbalanced ensemble.
Such a mentality can produce problems within a section. Instead of working together for uniform tone and dynamics, colleagues may end up doing just the opposite. Because section members want to match the principal's dynamics, they play so loudly that a characteristic sound and good pitch are sacrificed, and overdone dynamics produce an imbalance that loses blend. Injury, resentfulness, and unmusical sections are a negative result of these approaches. In the end, players don’t work well together, and the result is individual sounds rather than a united section.
My desire for the Navy Band section to sound larger than life was also hindered by another aspect peculiar to military bands.
Most orchestras have the luxury of performing in the same venue for the majority of their performance season. Those players learn how to play in their hall and produce the section sound they desire in that space. In the Navy Band, we perform in a different venue for almost every concert. On national tours, we encounter a variety of acoustics, from concert halls to high school gymnasiums. In most concert halls you can hear yourself, your section, and the rest of the ensemble. Unfortunately, gymnasium performances create situations where it is incredibly difficult to hear your section, the ensemble, and sometimes even yourself. Not knowing whether we are projecting or not creates the desire to play louder and louder. I would often feel like it was my job to make sure that the horns were heard. Instead of trusting my section mates to carry the load with me, I would play even louder to compensate for my inability to hear my colleagues. My friend Jose Sibaja used to say that you can’t save the band by playing louder to keep the ensemble together; it always causes more problems than it fixes. Yet I was trying to save the section instead of trusting them as the fine professionals they are. This becomes a vicious cycle which can lead to injury and section members inadvertently working against each other.
During my recovery, my mindset has changed. Playing with a full, loud sound will always be part of my playing, but I choose my moments. Many years ago, my teacher, Dr. William Scharnberg, had a great comment concerning dynamics that always stuck with me. He said that playing loud is like the peak of a mountain and soft is like the valley below. Your peak only looks impressive if there is also a deep valley. If mezzo forte to fff is all the same, then you are really existing on a dynamic plateau without any peak. Every player and ensemble needs to have the ability to perform all the dynamics and not just soft and loud. Loud playing is only as impressive as the soft dynamics which help them to stand out. For too many years, I was caught on a dynamic plateau, and I needed to experience greater depth.
My advice for all my students and future horn players would be to focus on creating a quality sound that will project in any performing space and always to work for a controlled and blended dynamic range. Horn players should not only be the muscle in the ensemble but also have the versatility to work as a woodwind player who creates lyrical melodies with delicate precision. Always treat the quiet sounds with as much care as you do the great climactic parts of a work.
