The Beginner's Guide To Orchestra

I am living in a world that is veiled in mystery. I am being trained in the delicate, complicated rites of an ancient religion; in time, if all goes well, I will become a cultivator of that religion, one of the few and dedicated who work to keep it alive. We will never earn very much money; we work for something much more important than money. We work to fulfill our very souls.
I have left my home to be trained in this art. My family has accepted my decision, although they remind me often that I have chosen a future with no guarantees of success or monetary comfort.
Instead of spending my evenings socializing, like other teenagers, I spend my nights in cold rooms that smell vaguely of mold and oranges, learning the complex rituals that my training requires of me.
The language I speak – from my humor, to the classes I take – is filled with names that few in the “outside world” understand, references that are as obscure and old as any other dying culture. And it is dying. But as long as I live, it will not die completely.
I’m training to be a classical musician. At the Interlochen Arts Academy, in fact.
And though I love my art in many ways more than I love myself, the facts still remain that I am training for an art that is obscure, dying, and that often the ordeals I must go through are things that most normal people don’t understand.

Take orchestra, for instance. Now, an orchestra is an intimidating thing. All those people up there, with all those complicated instruments and parts and valves and oils and rags and reeds and strings…it’s a little overwhelming. It’s still overwhelming, sometimes, even to me, and I’ve been playing in orchestras since I was thirteen.
As a hornplayer, I sit in the back of the orchestra. And I mean the back. Right up against the shell. I never get to see the sweat on the conductor’s face, which I’m thankful for. It’s also a lot easier to talk, pass notes, mess around, or nap if you’re in the brass section of an orchestra. Not that we’re delinquents, although we do have that kind of reputation – but then, reputations are always slightly based in fact.
The truth is, if you come to an orchestra rehearsal – and you should sometime, it’s very interesting – you will notice a marked difference in the way the strings and woodwinds behave, versus the way the brass and percussion behave. The strings sit right in front of the conductor; they can’t get away with anything. So they will sit straight up in their chairs, their faces bright, shining and attentive, a pencil behind their ear, carefully marking in the bowings the conductor suggests.
The woodwinds are all conscientious – they have to be, woodwinds are hard instruments to succeed on because they are so competitive- so they, too, are focused and determined, leaning forward in their chairs and paying attention to the conductor. The oboists and bassoonists have myriads of tools (ever looked into an oboist’s bag? They have knives, screwdrivers, string, small logs, rulers, and tools that look like they came out of the dentist’s office) that they will periodically take out and shave 1/16th of a centimeter off of their reeds with. The flutists will be focusing on something, anything, to keep them from remembering that they play the most competitive instrument in the world, and the clarinetists will probably be practicing some complicated fingering and blowing into their instruments just loud enough for the horns to hear. They will all have pencils, too, and certainly the oboists will have a tuner, possibly more than one.
Overall, both sections are a picture of focus, determination, and attentiveness. You should notice this immediately.
Now take a look back at the brass section.
If the trombone section is there, they will probably be asleep, or talking, or laughing at the violists. It’s the natural order of things. Trumpets might also be asleep. Or leaning forward. Instruments will be lying on the floor by the risers. Watch carefully – there could be a piece of paper being passed down the trumpet row. They will be writing insults about each other, or the viola section.
The horns, too, will be sprawled in their chairs. Some will be using their instruments to support them. The third and fourth horn might be playing rock-paper-scissors. The first horn will be trying to think of something constructive to say. The second horn might be dozing off, a bit of drool slinking out of his mouth. The assistant horn will probably look very focused, but that is because she is trying to think of plausible ways to kill the first horn, because she could play the solos much better, and doesn’t everybody know she was gipped in the seating process, and if she has to play fourth on Beethoven 7 next month, she’s gonna rip somebody’s throat out…
If the conductor asks the brass players to make note of something, there will be frantic shuffling around for pencils; someone in the trumpet section will have one in their hair, and it will be passed down the brass line.
The percussionists, uniformly, will be asleep.
Overall, the back section of the orchestra looks like the most important thing in their life is the cheeseburger they want for lunch.
But don’t be deceived. Within that row of sleepy teenagers lies the power to blow the rest of the orchestra away. The term “fortissimo” is defined by that row of sleepy teenagers. And we know it, too. Don’t believe me? Wait till the conductor gets to a brass part.
We may look lethargic and uninterested, but cut us some slack. We play a lot less than anybody else in the orchestra. Brass parts are not continuous. Trombones and trumpets will sit around in abject boredom for forty-five minutes, and then have fifteen minutes of exhilaration (or terror, depending on the view), only go back to doing nothing. Horn players have it a little better, but not much; twenty minutes of boredom, twenty-five minutes of offbeats or whole notes, and fifteen minutes of exhilaration/terror. So in rehearsals, there’s not much to do. And since we know the parts – which, I assure you, we do – then what else are we supposed to do? Sit there like attentive, good little boys and girls for 288 bars of rests? Hell, no – why do you think they put us in the back of the orchestra in the first place? So we can sit around and sleep when the strings are trying to figure out bowings. It works out perfectly in the orchestra universe.

Every instrument has a stereotype. Since all the orchestra musicians know it, I feel I should educate you on the stereotypes as well. This is purely so you can understand the jokes.
Violinists are prima donnas, especially first violinists. They play the most recognizable instrument in an orchestra, they sit right up in front, one of ‘em gets their own ovation (for – guess what – standing up and pointing to the long-suffering first oboist, who I think, after all these years, probably knows by now when to play the tuning note), and they play the most obvious parts. They are not often aware that there are other members of the orchestra. That is why we brass players feel that we have to occasionally remind them we exist by blowing their eardrums out. We feel it is only fair, since we have to sit around listening to them trying to figure out bowings for at least half of rehearsal.
Second violinists are kind of like wannabe prima donnas. They are bitter that they aren’t first violinists. Ever heard the term “playing second fiddle?” Comes from second violins. A second violinist likes to spend a lot of time bitching about how they can play the first violin parts better than the actual first violins.
Violists are stupid. This is universally recognized. They play the instrument that sort of looks like a big violin, if you squint. They read in a clef that no one else in the world ever reads in, and they usually aren’t special enough to get a recognizable soli part. They also have the incredible misfortune of sitting in front of the trombone section. (I knew a bass trombonist who referred to a certain, low, slide-extending note as the “let’s rape the viola section” note.) Most of the music jokes are built on violists. They are, understandably, a little touchy about this.
Cellists are hippies. And why shouldn’t they be? They put their instrument between their legs. It’s all about free love with the cellists. They play a beautiful instrument – and they know it, too – with awesome soli parts and great concertos. “We are cooler than you,” the cellos will smirk across at the violinists. And the violinists will look away in shame, because deep down inside, they know the cellos are telling the truth.
Double bassists kind of have a reputation of being the “slow” members of the orchestra. Enthusiastic, but slow. Like a really big, slobbery, stupid dog. But you know, bassists really put up with a lot. They play an instrument standing, usually, and they play everything an octave lower than they read it, and they never get solos, and if they do, conductors always forget to recognize them. So it’s probably better for them that they enjoy life, even if they do drink a lot of beer.
Now we move on to the woodwinds. Flutists are high-strung. And they have good reason to be. They play the most competitive instrument in the world. You have to be good to make it as a flutist. So it’s not uncommon to notice a flutist with an eye twitch or a severe vitamin C deficiency. They spend all of their time in the practice rooms, where there is no sunlight. “I practiced for five hours last night,” a flutist will lament. “I’m so behind!!!” (This is where the horn players look at each other in astonished bewilderment, thinking to themselves that, hey, forty-five minutes is cool as long as you don’t crack most of your notes).
Then you have the oboists. They are tough. Gangsters. As I’ve already mentioned, they carry knives with them. But most of the time, they use their knives on their reeds. Now, NEVER MENTION REEDS AROUND AN OBOIST UNLESS YOU HAVE HOURS OF FREE TIME. Because someone came up with this brilliant idea that – hey – double reed players should make their own mouthpieces! So they take two sticks of wood, and – using a machine called a gouger, which even surgeons don’t have – they create a reed, tie it together (with rainbow string that they leave tied everywhere as a mark of their gangster territory), and then use about fifteen different tools and a very bright light to shave, cut, and scrape reeds down to the exact perfect 1/16th of a millimeter that will allow them to play all the right notes, with the correct sound, in perfect tuning. This isn’t easy. Which is why oboists have to be tough.
Clarinetists are a little more easy-going. But they like to see how fast they can move their fingers. All the time. They feel a compulsion to keep their reeds wet, but instead of putting them in a film canister like double reeds do, they keep them on their clarinet. In their mouths. And hey, since it’s already there, why not noodle a few notes? Just softly. No one can hear it but the horn section…
Bassoonists are generally recognized as cool. They play an intimidating instrument that makes a neat sound. They, too, make their own reeds, but theirs last much longer than oboists’, so bassoonists are a little more laid-back. The only thing that will make a bassoonist sit up and tremble in fear are three little, seemingly harmless words…Rite of Spring. Mention this to a bassoonist. See what happens.
Ah, now, the brass. All you can ask of your trumpet players is that they have the right music for the right gig. Don’t even ask for them to show up on time; consider yourself lucky if at least one of the section wanders in before the tuning note. Most trumpet players live in their own little “trumpet universe.” “There are other instruments in this orchestra?” a trumpet player will say, with wonder on his face. Let’s say the conductor asks the trumpets to play a note piano. First he will have to wave his arms back and forth and jump up and down to wake them up. Then he will have to tell them which note he’s talking about. He will have to repeat this four or five times. Then he will have to explain the concept of “soft” to the trumpets. By the time he finishes this, they will have forgotten which note he’s talking about in the first place. And none of them will have a pencil, yet somehow, on the concert, it will generally be stunning. No one really knows how they do this. I suspect steroids are involved.
I’m going to skip ahead here to low brass. The low brass stereotype is one of luggish oafs, with no brains and nothing but testosterone. This is not necessarily true. What IS true is that they enjoy playing loud. Really loud. As in “wow, my internal organs are shaking” loud. And they can do this without breaking a sweat. The violas like to complain about this a lot.
Now you have the horns. We’re an interesting group of people; the bridge between woodwinds and brass (and strings, since, because of the way our valves are set up, if a string pops on our instrument, we can’t play. The trumpet players never cease to remind us of this). We’re actually pretty laid-back people; we enjoy an excellent sense of humor. Whenever you hear of practical jokes being played in an orchestra, it’s probably the horn section that’s responsible. But we are extremely arrogant about our instrument; don’t ever try to tell a horn player that they don’t play the greatest instrument in the orchestra. Furthermore, don’t make fun of us cracking notes, or you’ll get an earful. I mean, what do you expect, we have thirty-something feet of tubing and the partials are so close together that you have to move your lips less than a centimeter and the pitch goes flying up a half step at the minimum, added to the fact that you can basically play just about any note on any given fingering, and it’s a LITTLE STRESSFUL, ALL RIGHT? I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU PLAY THE SHORT CALL WITHOUT CRACKING A COUPLE OF NOTES!
Finally, the percussionists. Most “musicians” don’t associate with the percussionists…they’re really their own separate cult. You have to be a certain type of person to play cowbells, triangles, ratchets, windchimes, bongos, and gongs with a straight face, and furthermore take it seriously enough to the point where you worry about technique. It’s better just to let the percussionists do their own thing.
Yes, the orchestra seems like it might be a complicated machine. But once you examine the idiosyncracies of each instrument, you can begin to understand just how it functions…or doesn’t function.