Michael Lindsey
unread,Nov 6, 1993, 4:20:00 PM11/6/93You do not have permission to delete messages in this group
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to
Overwhelming response demands that I post this, and I'm sure you'll all
enjoy reading it. Would that you could hear the music as well. (You can,
in fact, if you buy the "Lake Wobegon Loyalty Days" CD, which used to be
in the Wireless catalog but seems to have been discontinued.)
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THE YOUNG LUTHERAN'S GUIDE TO THE ORCHESTRA
by Garrison Keillor; music by Randall Davidson.
To each person, God gives some talent such as comedy, just to name one,
or the ability to suffer, and to some persons God has given musical
talent, though not to as many as think so. So for a young Lutheran
considering an orchestral career, the first question to ask yourself is,
"Do I have a genuine God-given talent, or do I only seem talented compared
to other young Lutherans?" Because most Lutherans aren't musicians,
they're choir members. Mostly altos and basses. And _they_ can be sure
that their gift is God-given, because who else but God would be
interested? Nobody goes into choir music for the wrong reasons.
But orchestra... do you know what you're getting into? You're getting
into opera for one thing. Don Juan and Mephistopheles, pagan goddesses
screeching and being strangled and thrown off balconies. And even if you
stick to concert music, where are the Christian composers? Modern ones
are existentialists, the romantics were secular humanists, the 18th
century was all rationalists, and the 17th were Italian except for Bach.
And you can't make a living playing Bach.
In the Bible, we read about people singing and playing musical
instruments, including the harp, the last trump, the cymbal, the psaltery.
But in the Bible, music was in praise of the Lord, not for amusement. We
don't read that our Lord Himself ever played an instrument or enjoyed
hearing other people play theirs. The apostles did not attend concerts.
They weren't in the arts--maybe there's a reason for that. You play in an
orchestra, you're going to be devoting your life to music that sort of
swirls around in spiritual mystery. Searching for answers that people
could find in the Epistle to the Romans if somebody just showed them where
it is.
But if you're determined to play in an orchestra, then you ought to ask
yourself, "Which instrument is the best one for a Lutheran to play?" Which
instrument would our Lord have chosen, assuming He played an instrument?
And assuming He was Lutheran.
Probably not a French horn: the French horn takes too much of a
person's life. French horn players hardly have time to marry and have
children. The French horn is practically a religious belief all by
itself. In some orchestras, the horn players are required to be
celibate--sometimes by their wives. Because they think about the horn all
the time anyway.
Should a Lutheran play the bassoon? Not if you want to be taken
seriously, I don't think so. The name kind of says it all: bassoon.
It's an instrument that isn't playing with a full deck of marbles. Maybe
it's something you'd do for a hobby ("Hey honey, let's go bassooning this
weekend!"), but not as your life's work. Some bassoonists filling out
applications for home loans just say "orthodontist."
Many Lutherans start out playing clarinets in marching band and think
of it as a pretty good instrument and kind of sociable.
You pick up a clarinet, and you feel like getting together with other
people and forming an "M." But the symphonic clarinet is different:
clever, sarcastic, kind of snooty. It's a nice small town instrument that
went to college and after that you can't get a simple answer out of them.
It _is_ a French instrument, you know. Ever wonder why there are no
French Lutherans? Probably the wine wasn't good enough for them.
The oboe is the sensualist of the woodwind section, and if there is one
wind Lutherans should avoid, it's probably this one. In move soundtracks,
you tend to hear the oboe when the woman is taking her clothes off. Also
a little later when she asks the man for a cigarette. You start playing
the oboe, you're going to have babies, take my word for it.
The English horn sounds Christian, maybe because we think of it as the
Anglican horn, but it's so mournful, so plaintive. And so are English
horn players. They all have deep complicated problems. They're all down
in the dumps, especially at night, which is when most concerts are. Maybe
because they want what oboists have, I don't know.
The flute is the show-off of the wind section, the big shot:
Jean-Pierre Rampal, James Galway--both millionaires. (How many
millionaire bassoonists can you name real fast?) Well, that's fine.
Everybody knows it's the hardest, blowing across a tiny hole with your
head tilted all your life: it's like soloing on a pop bottle. The
problem with the flute is that it vibrates your brain, and you start
wearing big white caftans and smocks and eat roots and berries. You
become a pantheist and sit in meadows, and you believe that all is one and
God is everything--God is a column of air vibrating--and you know that's
not right.
The last member of the woodwind family is the flakiest and that's the
piccolo. It's never in tune. Never has been, never will be. All you can
play with it is the blues. Which, being a Lutheran, we don't have anyway.
We come now to the string section. Strings are mentioned in scripture
and some young Christians are tempted to become string players. But you
want to be careful. Bass, for example. A very deliberate instrument, the
plow horse of the orchestra: and bass players do tend to be more
methodical, not so spontaneous or witty or brilliant necessarily, but
reliable. Which makes the instrument appealing to German Lutherans. And
yet bass notes do have a certain texture and a tone, a darkness, a depth
that--my gosh, when you see those guys pick up their bows back there,
doesn't it make you think the same thing that I do? And if _we_ do, just
think what they're thinking about....
The cello section seems pleasant, and cellists seem like such nice
people. The way they put their arms around their instruments, they look
like parents at a day care center zipping up snowsuits. They seem like
us: comfortable, mid-range, able to see both sides of things. And yet,
there's something about the cello that's hard to put your fingers on. It
just doesn't seem right. Maybe, it's the way they hold the instrument the
way they do. Why can't they hold it across their laps? Or beside
themselves? I'm only asking.
The viola section is no place for a Lutheran and here you have to take
my word for it, because I know violists and they're okay until late at
night, they like to build a fire in a vacant lot and drink red wine and
roast a chicken on a clothes hanger and talk about going to Mexico with
somebody named Rita. Violists have this dark, moody, gypsy streak,
especially when they get older, and they realize that their instrument for
some reason cannot be heard beyond the stage. You _think_ you hear the
violas, but it's really the second violins.
The first violin is a problem for a Christian because it's a solo
virtuoso instrument and we Christians are humble and decent people. The
first violins see the maestro look to them first, and most of them believe
that he secretly takes his cue from watching their bows go up and down.
The maestro, who has a great nimbus of hair and is here on a temporary
work permit, is hypnotized by listening to the violins and forgets which
page he's on and looks to the violins to find out what's going on--this is
what most violinists believe in their hearts. That if the maestro dropped
dead, the orchestra would just follow the violins while his little body
was carried off into the wings, and nobody in the audience would notice
any difference except that now they would have an unobstructed view of the
violin section. Is this a place for a Lutheran to be? Did our Lord say
"Blessed are they who stand up in front and take deep bows for they shall
receive bigger fees?" No, He did not.
The second violin section is attractive to Lutherans because these
people are steady, supportive and helpful, but look who it is they
help--they help out the first violins. You want to play second fiddle to
that crowd? (No, I hope not.) One thing you may not know about second
violins is that the parts are so easy they never practice and they wind up
staying out late in singles bars on the freeway near the airport and
dancing with software salesmen. But I guess that's their way.
Let's be clear about one thing about the brass section. The rest of
the orchestra wishes the brass were playing in another room. So does the
conductor. His back is toward you so that you can't see what he's saying
to them but what he's saying is, "Would you mind taking that thing
outside?" The brass section is made up of men who were at one time in the
construction trades. They went into music because the hours are better
and there's less dust. They're heavy dudes and that's why composers wrote
so few notes for them. Because after they play, you can't hear for a while.
The tuba player is normally a stocky, bearded guy whose hobby is
plumbing. The only member of the orchestra who bowls over 250 and gets
his deer every year and changes his own oil. In his locker downstairs, he
keeps a pair of lederhosen for free-lance jobs. Anyway, there's only one
tuba in the bunch and he's it.
The trombonist is a humorist, sort of the brother-in-law of the
orchestra. He carries a water spray gun to keep his slide moist and often
uses it against his neighbors. That's why they duck down back there.
He's nobody you'd ever want to see become artistic director; you just hope
he doesn't sit right behind you.
The trumpet is the brass instrument you imagine as Christian, thinking
of Gideon and Gabriel, and then you meet one in real life, and you realize
how _driven_ these people are. They don't want to wear black tie; they
want to wear capes and swords and tassels; they want to play as loud as
they can and see mallards drop from the ceiling. Of the people who've
keeled over dead at orchestra concerts, most of them were killed by a long
trumpet passage. And most of them were glad to go.
There are two places in the orchestra for a Lutheran and one is the
percussion section. It's the most Christian instrument there is.
Percussionists are endlessly patient because they hardly ever get to play.
Pages and pages of music go by when the violins are sawing away and the
winds are tooting and the brass are blasting, and the percussionists sits
there and counts the bars like a hunter in the blind waiting for a grouse
to appear. A percussionist may have to wait for twenty minutes just to
play a few beats, but those beats have to be exact, and they have to be
passionate, climactic. All that the Epistles of Paul say a Christian
should be--faithful, waiting, trusting, filled with fervor--are the
qualities of the good percussionist.
The other Lutheran instrument, of course, is the harp. It's a good
instrument for any Christian because it keeps you humble and keeps you at
home. You can't run around with a harp. Having one is like living with
an elderly parent in very poor health: it's hard to get them in and out
of cars, and it's hard to keep them happy. It takes fourteen hours to
tune a harp, which remains in tune for about twenty minutes, or until
somebody opens the door. It's an instrument for a saint. If a harpist
could find a good percussionist, they wouldn't need anybody else. They
could settle down and make perfectly good music, just the two of them.