Podcast Appearance on my favorite show!

Working Class Audio is one of the longest running podcasts that I know of, and it’s creator and host, Matt Boudreau, is an excellent interviewer and audio engineer. I was surprised to get an email from Matt about a month ago asking if I would be interested in coming on the show. We had a great conversation and I had a wonderful time talking about my journey into audio engineering, and my career as a trombone player. I hope you can take the time to check it out! Click the photo below to go to Matt’s webpage where you can hear the episode, or find it where you normally get your podcasts. Cheers!

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The Haney Way: A Remembrance

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Friends,

Some of you have already read or heard me speak some of the words below, but I feel like any chance to talk about my friend, Ron Haney, who we lost way too early a few weeks ago, is a chance I can’t pass up. Remember, if you have someone in your life that you haven’t called in a while, or seen lately, pick up the phone or get in your car, and connect with them again. You just never know.

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A few years ago, world renowned cycling coach and guru, Lennard Zinn, wrote a new book on all things cycling called Zinn’s Cycling Primer. The book is an overview of all things cycling: bike fit, training concepts, maintenance skills, nutrition, and deals with both mountain and road cycling.

I wanted to remember my friend, Ron Haney, and tell you about a side of Ron you may not have seen as much, other than the wonderful colleague and musician that so many of us know. Of course, Ron was an avid cyclist. “Avid" doesn’t really quite define Ron’s interest in cycling. “Obsession" might fit, but it’s maybe too negative a word to fit. “Passion” and “mission” might begin to describe Ron’s relationship with his bike, and with many of us who had a chance to ride with and learn from he and Barb over the years.

The first time I met Ron was at a Marine Band concert. I had only been in the band for about 6 weeks when we left DC for the 1999 West coast tour on October 1. Our first concert was in Frostburg, Maryland, and Ron had driven Barb out to the concert. This was the first tour that they wouldn’t be together in many years, maybe ever. Barb introduced me to Ron, told him I had a new found interest in cycling, and simply said, “yeah, Ron likes to bike too, you guys should get together.” I’m not sure if more of an understatement was ever spoken. Ron and I proceeded to talk a little cycling (I really knew nothing), and left it as “sure, let’s do some riding when tour gets back!” Ron gave me that sly grin and head nod, shook my hand, and I parted ways to get ready for the concert.

To say I rode my bike with Ron Haney doesn’t even begin to explain what I got from our friendship. Ron taught me nearly everything I know about riding a bike, how a bike should fit, maintenance and repair, and how to ride safely on the roads. I spent many days with he and Barb in Southern Maryland over the years following that first meeting, and rode many miles sitting on Ron’s wheel. Most of all, Ron taught me that cycling is a life long sport, a place of refuge, and a way to see the world from a new perspective. Most of all, it is a way to enjoy the company of the people you love. Over the course of many bike rides, a lot was learned by me about friendship, working in the Marine Band, enjoying life, staying fit and healthy, and perseverance.

Speaking of fit and healthy, Ron was really one of the most fit people I have ever known. As I said, I spent many miles sitting in his “draft” while cycling the roads near his home, but he always rode with a sense of compassion and care for those of us who might not be as strong as him. We would often start our rides, Ron, Barb, and me bringing up the rear, and we would all take turns riding in front, and trying to keep a consistent pace. By the end of the rides, we would just be sitting in Ron’s draft as he efficiently cranked away in the wind, bringing us home. He always had this effortless way of riding, like it was no big deal and that he would never tire. I rarely remember seeing him even look tired on a bike, and I always just marveled at his understated, but friendly and caring nature for everyone on the ride. I remember a trip to the doc, I believe on his 50th birthday, and the young Navy corpsman became concerned when he took Ron’s blood pressure. He was concerned because Ron’s resting heart rate was alarmingly low, in the low 40s, and he thought something must be wrong with Ron. Ron patiently explained to the young sailor that he was a cyclist, and his heart rate was low for a reason! I’m not sure the kid ever knew what he meant, but the doc came in and cleared everything up.

A bit has already been shared about Ron’s care for other people, friends, and especially animals. Ron and I shared a trait, that we are both only children, and we have reaped the benefits, as well as sometimes suffered the consequences of our parents family planning choices. When I first met Ron, his mother, Cleo, was nearing her later years, and I always marveled at the way that Ron loved her with his characteristic patience and understanding. He called her daily, and in her last years, he cared for her in a way that I only hope I might someday have the patience and ability to care for my own parents. He was a shining example of a good and loving son.

Ron cared so much for those around him. After a bike crash on one of our rides in Southern Maryland, I had a broken collarbone and concussion. Ron and Barb kept me at their house, with Ron waking me every hour or so due to the concussion, to keep an eye on me. Ron cared for animals, especially cats. Like my wife and I, Ron was a cat person. His gentle, calm nature, seemed to soothe both felines and humans around him always.

A few years ago, I decided to go back to school, and work on a doctorate. I studied with Dave Fedderly, then tubist of the Baltimore Symphony while working on my degree at Catholic University. Dave literally turned my philosophy on playing a brass instrument around, and tuned me in to a type of brass playing that involved working less, not getting so wrapped up in what everyone says is “correct”, and to trust your intuition about what works for you. He also taught me to trust cold hard evidence, in the form of various breathing apparatus and to record myself while practicing my trombone. After a few lessons with Dave, I realized I already knew someone that demonstrated all the qualities he was trying to shovel into my brain, and that was Ron. Ron would pick up his tuba, and with seemingly no effort at all, produce a beautiful and large sound, one that both provided his colleagues musical as well as acoustical support, but that also blended together with the sounds around him. As a brass player, many days my only goal is to simply produce a pleasing sound on my instrument, and Ron did this masterfully, with little effort, and he did it all the time. There is often a reason that musicians choose a certain instrument, and in Ron’s case, being the foundation on which everyone could rest fit the person he was to a tee.

Ron was so many things to so many people. At different times he felt like your big brother, college roommate, exercise physiologist, favorite uncle, and senior Marine that you learned how to do a strange job from. Musician, cyclist, engineer, bartender, barista, bike mechanic, woodworker…you name it, Ron probably knew how to do it, and do it well.

Most of all, Ron was a friend. I will miss this man for the rest of my days. What a wonderful person, and I am so glad to have shared some space on the planet with him.

In the Lennard Zinn book I mentioned earlier, Mr. Zinn devotes an entire chapter to Ron’s method of cycling fit. It is chapter 12 of the book, and it is appropriately titled, Haney’s Way. With so many things I had the pleasure of doing with and learning from Ron, I strive for the “Haney Way” always!

My view from the other side of the bell - recent audition comments

Recently, I sat on the audition committee for two days worth of auditions for a trombone opening with the U.S. Marine Band in Washington, DC.  73 candidates came to the audition, and as always, it was a very educational experience for me.

First of all, if you are a performing musician, and you can find a place to sit on some sort of audition or competition committee, I highly recommend you do it!  Especially with band and orchestra auditions, where everyone is playing the same short excerpts one after another, you get a vivid sense of what works, and what doesn’t.

I’m not here to poke holes in anyone’s performance the day of the audition.  Auditions are very difficult situations, one of the most difficult you can experience as a performer.  Nerves, environment, bad luck… many, many things affect the outcome of an audition.  To be successful, you must be prepared to take a lot of them!  Auditioning is a skill, and it’s one that gets better the more you do it.  I have colleagues who won their audition on the first try.  Others, like myself, took multiple auditions.  I took 6 auditions for military bands, with three being for the Marine Band alone, before I was hired.  What follows are my observations about things that I feel can be corrected, or at least minimized, by preparation and habits, based on what I heard from a large majority of trombonists at this audition.

First, time and rhythm is critical.  I have written about this before, here.  The very first, and most noticeable thing, to me, is a person’s time.  I’m not talking about playing correct rhythms, but the consistency with which you apply tempo and subdivision to everything you play.  Truly subdividing, and applying that subdivision consistently across the entire span of a round of excerpts, is what gets your foot in the door.  Most people would be surprised at how few players are able to actually do that… It was very evident to me that very few auditionees record themselves, and listen to the recording focussed on their time consistency.  I mean, record everything.  I feel that in the final weeks before an audition that there are only two ways to practice.  Slow practice working on any technical aspects of an excerpt that need work, ingrain pitch relations, and making certain that every note is centered is critical.  Second, you should be performing the excerpt just as you would in the audition, and you should record it and listen back immediately.  99% of players won’t do this, especially the recording part, because it’s tedious and it takes a lot of time.  One very real benefit of this kind of practicing is that you can play for much longer periods.  When practicing alone, the playback time serves as built in rest, and the constant alternating between playing and listening gives you enough rest that you don’t get tired nearly as fast.  

Finally, put yourself into multiple mock audition situations, using all the visualization skills that you possess to develop some stress and nervousness.  Perform the excerpts exactly as you will in the audition either by themselves or as part of a set or “round”.  Immediately listen back and listen for ONE thing.  In this case, time.  If it’s not exactly right, it’s not right.  There is no close enough.  It must be metronomic.  If it’s not, and I’m listening to your audition, I will think that your time is not very good, and I’ll wonder how it will be to play a concert with you in the section and whether you will make my job easier.  Of course, no one is perfect!  Everyone will have inconsistencies, but you have to do everything you can to minimize them.

Let’s talk about pitch.  We opened our first round (and semi-finals) with Mozart Requiem.  The relative intonation of the opening B-flat statement is critical.  If the first 3 measures aren’t in tune, it’s very hard to recover the confidence of the committee.  Again, record and listen.  This applies throughout the round, but especially in the beginning.  Another place there was a lot of “pitchiness” was in the eighth note runs of Hungarian March.  Practice them slow, record, and listen.  Yep, you are gonna get REAL tired of hearing me say that!

Articulation is often a very telling aspect of a candidates abilities as well.  “Breaking up” and “frackiness” are signs that a player may not be centering each note, or that they are playing beyond the point of controlling their sound at higher volumes.  Being able to transition from the more forceful articulations of something like Hungarian March to the lightness of Brahms Academic Festival, or the quiet touch needed for Saint-Saens Organ Symphony is a skill to develop.  Hearing what you want those articulations to sound like in your head is critical.  We play what we hear in our head, and if we aren’t thinking about anything in particular, then we leave to chance what exactly is going to come out of the horn.  Again, listen to your recordings to see if what you THINK you are doing is what’s actually coming out!

Speaking of higher volumes…. volume and tone quality work together to present a total picture of your characteristic sound.  They give the listener a real sense of your musical goal, and your sensibilities.  Everyone has a unique sound, and I know I don’t expect anyone to fit in to a narrow definition of “great sound”.  However, many players play louder than they have to, all the time.  In most cases, it seems to be an awareness issue.  I think we get so used to playing loud in ensembles, that we don’t realize just how loud we are playing when we’re by ourselves.  Many people’s preliminary round sounded like they were simply trying to play too loud.  If it’s a loud excerpt like the Ride, or Heldenleben, then great.  You have to leave yourself some room to show some dynamic contrast, as well as show the committee that you are a conscientious (and conscious) musician.  Pick your places for both loud and soft dynamics, and you will show greater contrasts and sensitivity.

Finally, remember that you are playing for a group of people, not just one individual.  Many people I have sat with on audition committees have different things they are listening for.  We all have our individual biases and dislikes.  Cover as many bases as you can, and do your best to showcase your excellent musicianship within the context of solid fundamentals.  It’s always eye opening to see how far great fundamentals can take someone.  I think we sometimes trick ourselves into thinking we have to offer something unusual, or musically out-of-the-ordinary to set ourselves apart.  Time and again, the thing that gets people noticed is doing the basics exceptionally well.  

I would like to offer my encouragement to the many players that came to this recent audition, and maybe didn’t progress as far as they had hoped.  It is a life-long battle, this art we call music and this piece of plumbing called the trombone.  Persistence is key.  Glenn Dodson told me he auditioned seven times for the Philadelphia Orchestra.  He also used to tell his students, “there’s always room at the top.”  So, so true.  I remember reading somewhere that the late Jerome Ashby took around 30 auditions before he joined the French horn section of the New York Philharmonic.  Among the ranks of the great players, you will find many (all!) that just didn’t give up.  Continue your hard work, know that it never gets easy, and accept that you will have to continue the uphill battle if you want to reach your goals.  Thanks for reading, and happy practicing!