Recently I gave my annual faculty recital, which included the
Marcello Oboe Concerto, Gordon Jacob's Sonata for Oboe and Piano
(a real gem of the 20thcentury oboe literature, in my estimation)
and the Carlo Yvon English Horn Sonata. Since our double reed
class is small, my teaching load includes courses in music history
and appreciation. Here my missionary zeal runs high (aha! an entire
class just awaiting conversion!) and I particularly relish the
challenge of teaching the general student who, like the "noble
savage," often has had little or no listening experience
prior to taking the class. One of the requirements for this course
is that the students write reviews of five live concerts they
have attended. It is often quite eye-opening to read these opuses,
and observations can run from the blushingly realistic ("out
of the mouths of babes") to, well, you know ...
So just imagine my chagrin when certain members of the class wanted
to review my performance. I mean, when you yourself are the subject,
you have to be prepared for anything. "Just don't say anything
about the dress or the shoes," I quipped. Several sycophants
predictably loved every minute of the performance in hopes of
getting a good grade. More illuminating were the impressions of
another student too unfamiliar with concertgoing to be anything
but totally honest. So here goes.
On February 7, 1991 I attended a recital by Carol Padgham Albrecht.
She played the oboe and French [?!] horn, the first instruments
I had ever heard of before Music 100. 1 thought this lady to be
crazy: didn't she know there was a basketball game scheduled on
the same night? Nobody was going to show up. At 7:55 there weren't
very many people in the Recital Hall. By 8:05 it was quite full.
I felt sorry for Carol; she had to stand during the entire performance.
She told a story at the beginning about the first piece [Marcello]
which helped me to understand the music better. She sounded like
a teacher. [Guess why?]
I enjoyed the oboe better than the piano performance I attended
last week. The piano was so loud and rough, but the oboe was soft
and smooth. I had a belly ache and was in no mood to hear the
piano. Anyway, I thought having the piano backing up the oboe
was very insulting. The long drawn-out notes in the second set
of the first piece were beautiful. I found them to be very relaxing
and soothing. Actually, I would have preferred the oboe without
the piano. The piano broke the peacefulness of the oboe, although
I imagine that Carol didn't mind the piano behind her. [Strength
in numbers, you know ... ]
In the first movement of the Gordon Jacob sonata, the oboe made
a sound that you might hear from India when a man is trying to
get his snake to rise out of the basket. It appeared to be in
duple time, for it continually went up and down. I caught someone
sleeping across the aisle. The music was so soft, I almost fell
asleep, too. Allegro molto vivace was much faster. I am almost
positive it was in duple time. I found this piece to be very intriguing,
as the oboe and the piano played back and forth at each other.
The oboe seems very graceful and fluent; it looks like it is easy
to play. [That's a new one.] Before the Adagio, Carol cleaned
out her oboe. There must be a lot of saliva in her instrument.
The oboe appears to play the same sound in each piece. The notes
are either high or long or they would be really quick and sharp.
I preferred the long and deep ones myself. Allegro started out
fast, the notes sounding like something you would hear in a movie
from Africa or India. Then they became really low and came back
with quick, high-pitched notes. The notes seemed to constantly
go up and then down. They repeated this procedure until it was
all over.
During the intermission I spotted the kid who was sleeping at
the piano recital last week. He wasn't just napping, he was sound
asleep. I guess he sleeps better to music. [No sleep is as refreshing
as that taken during a concert, I can guarantee.] The intermission
was followed by Carol on the French horn. [Arrghh.] This piece
appears to be the only composition for this instrument. In the
beginning the piano and horn weren't playing together. The horn
sounds very similar to the oboe, except that it may be a little
deeper. The notes were very fast at the end and then came to an
abrupt end. Adagio started out like a western show, with long
drawn-out notes.
It reminded me of a big open prairie, except when the short, quick
notes appeared. The last movement sounded the same as the prior
pieces. The only noticeable difference was that the piano would
introduce the horn by sounding a loud note. At certain instances
it was hard to tell who the main performer was because the piano
would play a long solo. The horn would play a few notes and the
piano would take off. Then the horn went crazy. Carol's face tightened
up and got really red as she played very fast.
This was probably the best piece of the night and the hardest.
I enjoyed this concert better than the piano recital, although
I think a person is crazy for playing a woodwind instrument. [Yes,
it certainly does help.]
And that's the way it is ...
[Carol Padgham Albrecht teaches oboe, music history, and music
depreciation at the University of Idaho.]