Posted by Dave on November 21, 2001 at 15:24:11:
As a person on the way out of tuba playing, I thought it a good time to post some things I've been thinking about the past 10 years or so. I've been considering making a post like this for a while, but recent threads have kind of lit the fire. You can take this post for what it's worth: I'm a professional tuba vet of 16 years making a total change in my profession. I don't want to come across as a bridgeburner with a grudge, but I will speak my mind without fear of being blackballed, losing a gig or having to look over my shoulder in a community band out west after "Rocco" forgot to take his meds.
Thanks to Jim Rome, the sportsnut radiojock out of LA for this next inspired bit. I hope it will be taken in the fun in which it was conceived, but knowing some of you…
The tuba playing community is not unlike the recreational softball community. You know, the guys from the office that get drunk and play other drunk office guys a couple nights a week. There are 3 distinct classes of participants. You've got the Fat Old Guy, the Angry Middle-Aged Guy and the Dork.
The Fat Old Guy is the overweight softball guy in his forties/fifties whose jersey is a little smallish on him. He will more than likely agressively take out the 2nd baseman to break up a double play and sacrifice his body and those of his opponents for the sake of the team. These people are not unlike the older tuba jocks in the 2nd and 3rd run orchestras who got their gigs a long time ago when the orchestra was a community group and they beat out a junior in high school for the chair. These guys are usually very serious about their "craft" (I'm sorry, anyone who refers to their tuba playing as a "craft" need to be throttled in my opinion) but know deep down if their tenure was revoked and they had to reaudition for their chairs, they'd have about as much of a chance of surviving the first round as a lone unarmed Taliban in the stands of a New York Football Giants game. He's usually insecure about his position and easily threatened by the other tuba jocks that surround him. These are the guys that usually head up Octubafests and such.
Then there's the Angry Middle-Aged Guy who thinks he could be playing professional baseball. The only reason he's not is "that one coach that screwed him over." He has $1000 worth of softball gear and travels to tournaments. This group is like the college/nonprofessional/smalltime professional guys who go to all the conferences, pound out "The Ride" in the halls and engage in some serious namedropping. They've got business cards, flyers and resumes on demand. They've color-coordinated their attire for the tuba conferences with their gig bag and act somewhat standoffish and aloof to those with unworthy credentials. They've got $17,000 worth of gear, a $17 sound and a Sacajawea dollar's worth of musicianship.
Lastly, there's the Dork. Usually seen pacing the dugout with the scorecard at the softball game, the Dork most likely coaches. Although his physical skills are limited, he contributes by poring over stats and developing strategy. Here are our equipment geeks, audiophiles, historians, tuba scholars and peddlers of tuba trinkets and cure-all gadgets. Oftentimes the Dorks have attributes of the Fat Old Guy and the Angry Middle-Aged Guy, but their thrust is the equipment. Whether they conform to the big horn/cavernous mouthpiece school (or whatever happens to be the current rage) or proudly and boisterously conform to nonconformity, they keep us abreast of how opening up the backbore of your mouthpiece by .5mm markedly affects the overtone content of the 4th partial. Or how they could kick you and your Hirshy's ass with a fiberglass sousaphone and a bullethole in the bell.
As of July of this year, I had been playing tuba for over half my life. I've dropped tons of money into the endeavor. I've spent countless hours in all sorts of practice rooms, bathrooms, broom closets and storerooms. I've played in all sorts of honor bands, theme parks, decent orchestras as a sub, with all sorts of celebrities and lastly the military. I've played with some lesser-known great players: Paul Ebbers, Jay Hunsberger, Chris Olka (lesser-known until now!), Willie Clark, Mike Roylance, Mark Thiele, Bob Carpenter, Claude Kashnig, Paul Weikle, Jason Stephens to name a few. All great guys who'd give you the shirt off their back. I think I've lived a pretty full tuba life.
As I sit here in my early thirties with an 18 month old son, a beautiful wife and a stable living, I have to ask myself "Self, if it all ends tomorrow, would you be proud and satisfied with what you've done so far with your life?" Now, before I hear it from the "music is the pulse of life/without the arts we're lost/music is feelingful intelligence" crowd, let me tell you I've been there. I'm still there in part, but I see the world differently now. I used to have a small plaster bust of Brahms. I used to think Bach was kool, then Mahler was cool and Bach was nothing but a note machine, now Bach is cool again and Mahler could use a good editor. I pondered getting a tuba vanity plate. I do believe I wrote a few "Tubas Rule, Saxes Drool!" quips in a few yearbooks of my high school peers. I like to consider myself a moderately intelligent guy. With the world the way it is now, I just can't justify myself to sitting back, playing tuba in a mediocre military band, picking up an odd gig every now and then which is usually a "slop" gig from the local Angry Middle-Aged Guy/Dork. Where's the art in that?
You hear stories all the time of pros unloading their quiver of horns preparing for a layoff. I witnessed firsthand the raping of the theme parks in Orlando. What gets me is that some musicians are surprised that no one wants to hear L'Heur Espagnole these days. Those that do attend are snoozing in the audience because heck, they've already got their tax writeoff and Sasha and Winthrop saw them in their new Lincoln earlier that evening. The pros bitch about their colleagues, the union, the management, the conductors, the lighting, the seating, the refreshments, the temperature in the green room, the acoustics, the benefits, the workload, the rehearsal schedule, the programming and why the holiday party always seems to be held at Ryan's Buffet on a Saturday night. They even read the Wall Street Journal during rests at rehearsal because "Jeez, if I have to play (insert warhorse here) one more time…" Where's the art in that?
There's big business out there feeding on the unrealistic dreams of our youth. They are told they need X horn for $XX,XXX in order to have a chance out of 75 other applicants for a job that might not be there in 5 years. And if it is their time and the orchestra is still there in 5 years, they'll get sick of living in fear that the current season might be their last. What's a guy to do if he still loves to play? Join the military where every Marine, Navy and Army band wastes taxpayers' money by playing at the opening of a horseshoe pit or the Goat Days Festival in Bucksnort, TN. There are some good musicians in the field/fleet band, but 90% would be in a 2nd concert band at a community college. And I'm talking about professional, adult musicians. There are some funny things going on the the DC bands as well, and this is coming to me from folks in our capitol.
I just feel as of late that I've come out of a deep sleep. I have been rejuvenated as I embark on a new career path that truly affects the lives of my country's citizens in a tangible way. I'm not throwing my 188 away just yet, although a mouthpiece firesale is imminent after I see how many I can give away to friends. I'm not going to discourage my son from being in the band/orchestra when he's of age, in fact I'll encourage it. I will try to keep him balanced and grounded though. I may even pop my head into a community band rehearsal every now and then time allowing, and have some fun. Something tells me I will enjoy playing much more when it's not putting food on the table. Needless to say, I need to do something else before I become even more the Angry Middle-Aged Guy.
I'd sure be open to some correspondence in private if any of you desire. Thanks for your time and good luck in your chosen path.
Signing out one last time…
Dave Tucker
Jangju(AT)email.com