Monday, March 16, 1998; Boston, London and Manchester

Dear Diary,

Here we are, on the road again with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, this time to Europe. We haven't been back to Europe since 1993 and since that time, I've met a lot of people over the Internet and have piled up a list of things I'd like to do while there, so this ought to be interesting.

Flying overnight from Boston to London (we left on a British Airways flight at 8:10 PM on Sunday with a 6.5 hour flight and 5 hour time change), it always surprises me how short the night was, no matter how many times I do it. I don't get much sleep on the plane, it seems that they are always pushing food at you when you just nod off, "Excuse me sir," the flight attendant whispers through my "noise-buster" headphones and "mind-fold" eye shade, "you aren't sleeping, are you?" Grrrrrrr....

Upon touching down at Heathrow, we learned that the passport control agents didn't have the BSO work permit quite ready (they only had 2 years, wonder what took so long). My colleagues are a cranky lot after the overnight flight - being told to wait for some person to complete paperwork doesn't sit well but I urge, patience, patience. As it turns out, the lines open up just as I happen to walk in front of one so I end up being the first one through. And some people say there is no God!

Waiting for me outside of customs is Gordon Higginbottom of Yamaha Kemble who will be my chaperone for a few days. Several months ago, Peter Bassano of the Royal College of Music in London asked if I would be interested in giving a master class at the RCM. I immediately accepted, but a few weeks later, the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester got wind of my class at the RCM and they wanted a class, too. Gordon Higginbottom made the arrangements for me to work out this impossible feat - giving classes in both Manchester and London on the same day, and I'm grateful for his (and Yamaha's) help in making it all happen. Gordon, as you may know, is a legendary brass band horn player, and we had a great time talking about bands and his recent playing of his E flat horn in a Prokofiev cantata with Neeme Järvi.

We arrived in Manchester where we checked into a bed and breakfast inn and I promptly went to sleep for a few hours, my usual routine when making the trip across the pond. Upon awaking, James Gourlay, who wears many hats including that of Director of Brass Studies at the RNCM, conductor of the Williams Fairey Band and tuba soloist extraordinaire, came over to take me to a rehearsal with my accompanist for the next day's recital. Oh, didn't I mention, when the RNCM asked me to do a clinic, they asked if I would give a mini-recital - being a glutton for punishment, I agreed, and Jim secured the best for me, John Wilson, head of the accompanying department at the RNCM.

My program was designed to be a bit different, not the standard fare, so I chose the Hindemith Three Easy Pieces for cello, Bozza's New Orleans, and two songs, the first of the Brahms Four Serious Songs and The Call from Vaughan Williams' Five Mystical Songs. John proved to be a more than able accompanist, particularly in the Brahms where he simply whipped up and down the keyboard with obvious glee that he had such a piece of "meat" to devour.

Jim Gourlay asked me if I would like to accompany him to the evening rehearsal of his band, Williams Fairey. There was no question, of course I would! Fairey is one of the top bands in the world, playing in the championship section and currently riding at the top of the brass band rankings. Having recorded my solo CD Proclamation with the assistance of the Black Dyke Band, I knew it would be a treat to hear another great band up close. I asked Jim if I could sit in the band for a march and he readily agreed.

Trouble (or, rather, I should say, the fun!) began when I noticed the principal trombone chair (held by Simon Cowen, who had been with Black Dyke when I recorded Proclamation) was vacant. It turned out that Simon would not be there so Jim asked if I would dep (dep=deputise=substitute, for those of you who don't know the British lingo...) for Simon - on first trombone! Of course I agreed, and therein began a most enjoyable 2 hours that did wonders for my face and helped me get over the airplane chops I had picked up. What a band! They were preparing for a concert on March 21 at the Stockport Citadel of the Salvation Army, so the program was mostly sacred classics, including a new piece, A Psalm for the Chase by Bolton written for principal horn, Sandy Smith. What a beautiful piece, and exceptionally played by Sandy. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the band, and at the end, was both surprised and delighted when Band Manager John Cresswell presented me with a handful of new Fairey Band CDs and some recent editions of their newsletter, Fairey Tales. What a nice gesture, and a wonderful way to end the rehearsal for me.

Jim, his fiancé, Lela, Gordon, John Cresswell and I went out to an Indian restaurant for a dinner that couldn't be beaten before heading back to the hotel where I collapsed (after, of course, checking my e-mail!).

And there was morning and evening, the first day.

Tuesday, March 17, 1998; Manchester and London

Today it begins - the marathon.

After a good night of sleep (I slept straight through the night which was a good sign that jet lag was going to get over pretty quickly), Gordon and I had breakfast and Jim picked us up and took us over to the RNCM where I warmed up for the recital and class. The RNCM has recently undergone a new building programme and I was happy to be given a large room with plenty of windows and a fine piano. Students began trickling in and by the time things started, it was standing room only with about 60 people there including Nick Hudson, noted soloist and principal trombone with the Yorkshire Building Society Band. I had never met Nick but we had corresponded a bit over the last few months as he was very enthusiastic about my Proclamation project as I was likewise keen on his new solo album, Anthology. It was nice of him and so many others to come.

The recital went well; it's always a great feeling to know that you did what you can do, and John's piano playing was splendid. I then moved on to the clinic portion of the program where five bass trombonists played. All were fine players who played a varied cross section of music. The three hours passed quickly, and when Jim Gourlay wound things up by presenting me with a RNCM sweatshirt, Gordon was there, hurrying me along so we could get to the airport to head to London.

Before leaving Manchester, I couldn't help but get a bit nostalgic, as it was there, in Peel Hall of the University of Salford, that I recorded Proclamation with Black Dyke. The week I spent in Manchester (and neighbouring Queensbury and Stockport) in September 1996 is one that is indelibly imprinted in my mind, and detailed by my friend Roger Green in his book about the project, PROCLAMATION: In Pursuit of a Dream. It was nice to remember that exciting time in my life.

Enter Roger Green. . .

Gordon and I flew back to Heathrow, picked up his car and made our way into London at rush hour, an amazing feat that was done in record time. I stopped at the Inter-Continental Hotel at Hyde Park Corner where the BSO was staying, checked in, dropped off my suitcase, and we headed over to the Royal College of Music for my next class. Gordon couldn't stay for it so we said goodbye, happy that I had made a new friend and grateful for all he and Yamaha have done for me over the years. Once in the RCM, I found the cafeteria where my BSO colleague, tubist Chester Schmitz was waiting for me (he had been scheduled to do a clinic that afternoon as well but the tubists at the RCM all fell ill and it unfortunately had to be cancelled) along with my friend Roger Green and John Ingman, an Internet friend who I found, to my surprise, to be 17 years old, far younger than his mature postings to the Trombone-L led me to believe.

I don't need to tell you about Roger Green, you already know that he is my friend from Wiltshire whose idea it was for me to record a CD of bass trombone solos with brass band. We became friends in about 1983, pen pals, if you will, and we met during BSO tours of England in 1984 and 1993. It was in 1993, after interviewing me for The Trombonist magazine that Roger "popped the question" about making the CD and our lives were changed. Roger had come in to London on the train to meet me at the RCM. We chatted a bit, catching up on many things (my wife and I had been to visit Roger and his wife, Frances, on a vacation in the UK in September 1996) before Peter Bassano popped in to take us to the Durrington Room on the top floor of the RCM where my class was to be.

It was great to see Peter, as well as Dudley Bright of the Philharmonia Orchestra and Lindsey Shilling at the clinic, so very nice of colleagues in other orchestras to give up a bit of time to come here me play and teach. The five students at the RCM were also quite good - one poor chap had the misfortune to play New Orleans which I had just performed earlier in the day! No, seriously, he and all the others did quite well, and I actually learned about three pieces I had never heard - John White's Sonatina (published by Warwick Music UK), the Gabaye Tubabillage and Henry Wolking's Shadows, Sherlocks and Seven Cues, a strong, unaccompanied, contemporary work chosen by Laura Sherlock because... it had her name in it!

When the class was over, I talked with several students for a few minutes and saw a chap begin taking out and then playing a G bass trombone. I couldn't help overhearing what was going on as the fellow and Roger engaged in animated discussion and I finally was able to break away and join them and meet, for the first time, Edward Solomon, my good friend from the Internet who is both a frequent and sage contributor to the Trombone-L e-mail discussion group and the Webmaster of the British Trombone Society website. Edward sounded just great on his Besson G bass and he really gave me inspiration to get out my old Salvation Army G bass (formerly owned by the Cambridge, Massachusetts, Citadel Band - now defunct) and get cracking on it.

Edward volunteered to help Roger and me get some dinner because my stomach was eating itself - I was famished. After driving around a bit, all the while jabbering about trombone players, instruments, the Internet and much more (and listening to the Mozart Requiem in an excellent recording with the English Baroque Soloists conducted by John Eliot Gardiner [Philips 420 197-2, with trombonists Peter Bassano, Susan Addison and Stephen Saunders]), we ended up at a pizza house where my appetite was satisfied. We trotted over to Tower Records at Piccadilly Circus (open until midnight) in hopes of finding some brass band CDs; regrettably they had a very small selection, but I did pick up the Mozart recording we had been listening to in Edward's car and Edward found the Nelson Riddle album, The Joy of Living. A long, but fulfilling day finally over, Edward deposited Roger and me back at my hotel before Roger trotted off to his B&B (he decided to pass staying at the Inter-Continental for $240 a night!). Sleep came quickly and easily, after an e-mail session, of course.

And there was morning and evening, the second day.

Wednesday, March 18, 1998; London

Roger came by after breakfast and I finished warming up in my room (with my Yamaha SBS practice mute) as the BSO had a rehearsal at Royal Festival Hall from 10:30 am - 1:00 pm. The tour programmes consist mostly of Mahler 3 and Mahler 6, and we needed a rehearsal to sort out the vocal movements of Mahler 3. We had an excellent women's chorus, the London Symphony Women's Chorus, who sang with incredible blend, style and panache - and they had fantastic German accents as well. Their beautiful singing reminded me of my first visit to England in 1984 when we played Mahler 2 in Royal Albert Hall with the Philharmonia Chorus - another fine chorus that left me with wonderful memories of the British vocal tradition. Seiji Ozawa's rehearsal went overtime which didn't help the orchestra's mood, but we really did get a lot done in rehearsal as the acoustics in the Festival Hall are not the most user friendly in the world. We are quite spoiled playing in Symphony Hall in Boston and need to make many adjustments when playing on other halls around the world.

Yesterday, Edward had told Roger and me where HMV Records was (on Oxford Street, near Oxford Circus) so we headed there where there was a much larger selection of brass band CDs. I also managed to pick up two discs containing both the complete sketches for and a "completion" of Elgar's Symphony No 3, which has long fascinated musicologists. That will make for an interesting study on another day. We also made our way to Boosey & Hawkes in search of the famous Otto Langey tutor for B flat trombone, one of the few tutors published in the UK that are for trombone in bass clef. We found it and I will enjoy looking through it when I have some time at home.

Roger and I then headed to Salvation Army Headquarters on Judd Street (near King's Cross) in hopes of seeing the famous E flat bass trombone in the Salvation Army Heritage Museum that was the subject of an article in The Trombonist a few months back. This unusual instrument was invented and patented by the Salvation Army near the turn of the century and has an extraordinary series of springs and strings that, when the hand slide is moved out, causes a slide to go out the back of the instrument! Alas, the museum had closed when we got there, but Roger and I spent some time looking through the SA bookstore and I bought more CDs, several books on the famous conductor/composer Eric Ball and Roger purchased some music to play with his band, Bratton Silver Band.

Time was getting short so we headed to dinner with a promise to return to the museum tomorrow when it was open, and we just made the bus to Festival Hall for the evening concert, Mahler 6. It was, if I say so myself (and The Times agreed as well), a memorable performance, with my colleagues really taking to heart Seiji's admonishments against playing out too much, with everything in excellent balance. It was a great opening to the tour and afterwards, Roger and I headed out to a pub for a deserved Guinness before dropping into bed for much needed rest.

And there was morning and evening, the third day.

Thursday, March 19, 1998; London

Each day seems to be even more packed with great things to do and experience. We were up early as I wanted to get back to the Salvation Army Heritage Museum when it opened to get a good look at that E flat bass trombone I had read about in The Trombonist. Old instruments fascinate me, and none had ever looked so interesting to me as this contraption with the spring/string loaded slide that pushed out the back. Roger and I arrived at the Museum when it opened at 9:30 and went straight for the bass trombone. And what a specimen it is! It is in beautiful condition, upon on a trombone stand and right there for you to touch (were it not for the "Please do not touch!" sign). We were soon greeted by Museum archivist Gordon Taylor who promptly picked up the instrument and began telling more of its history along with details of its construction. The instrument has the same beautiful rolled metal ferrules which have the appearance of being engraved that my old SA G bass has, and I was struck by the puny size of the top tube of the dual bore slide - smaller than a standard symphonic trumpet bore was my guess.

Much to my surprise, Gordon handed the instrument to me and asked if I would like to hold it! I accepted (while Roger got our cameras popping) and was struck again by the perfect balance of the horn - neither front nor back heavy. The slide moved easily for something that had not been played in some time, and the "whooshing" sound of the back slide moving in and out was quite apparent in my left ear. Gordon then suggested I have a blow on it! That was a treat beyond words, it played a bit stuffily, but part of that was no doubt me, not being used to an instrument in E flat. Perhaps, too, a good cleaning would improve things, but I was able to play some scales and bits of excerpts and études; Gordon commented he had never heard that instrument played before so I was happy to be part of the learning process for all of us. With gratitude and a sense of awe of having played a piece of history (how many SA Bandsmen had played that instrument over the years, how many parades had it marched in, how many hymn tunes and marches had come out of its bell?), we returned the instrument to the stand and moved on downstairs again to do more shopping in the bookstore.

We hurried over towards Regents Park to the Royal Academy of Music where I was to give my final of my trilogy of master classes in England. After stopping for a bite to eat in the church across the street (no, not communion, but a lovely meal, I remain puzzled why churches have restaurants in them over here!), Roger and I were met outside of the RAM by the three bass trombone students there, Richard Broomhead, David Vines and Rob O'Neil. We hurried up to the room for a bit of a warmup and was delighted when John Wallace came in to give my introduction. I had long admired his many recordings over the years and as London Symphony Orchestra bass trombonist Bob Hughes was on tour at the time, John took over getting the class started. I was also happy to meet Roger Argente, Bass Trombonist of the Royal Philharmonic - a generous gesture of these colleagues to take time from their schedule to come and say hello.

The RAM bass trombonists acquitted themselves well at the master class which I began after a few words of my own and a performance of the Telemann Flute Fantasie in C minor. Time passed quickly and in no time at all, we found ourselves running for dinner. As we passed Tower Records, we popped in again; one of the RAM students had recommended a Nelson Riddle album with Ella Fitzgerald that included a duet with Ella and George Roberts, something unknown to me. Happily, Tower had it in stock (Ella Swings Brightly With Nelson, Verve 519 347-2, the track with George Roberts is Love Me or Leave Me) and we ran off for dinner (in another church!) before heading to Festival Hall for Mahler 3.

The performance that night was a good one, well received by the audience with the kind of ovations an orchestra can only get on tour - prolonged and noisy! I enjoyed chatting with some of the chorus members again who sang so beautifully; Roger made his way backstage and we headed back to the hotel for a final pint of Guinness at the pub and our farewell. Fortunately, we will be seeing each other again soon, as we and our wives have booked a holiday together in Bermuda for August 1999. It is our favourite vacation spot and it will be a treat to introduce Roger and Frances to our island getaway.

How I wish I had a few more days in London, I never tire of it. So much to see, so much history, so much music, so many friends. But I suppose this is incentive to return again soon and I know I will. After packing up my suitcase and writing some e-mail, my head hit the pillow and I was, I believe, instantly asleep.

And there was morning and evening, the fourth day.

Friday, March 20, 1998; London and Paris

The trip to Paris was typical of a Boston Symphony travel day. We had to have our bags outside our door at 6:30 am, check in with British Airways in the hotel lobby at 7:30 to get a boarding pass, and our buses departed for Heathrow at 9:30. Arriving at Heathrow around 10:30, our plane for Paris took off a bit late at 11:30 and by 3:00 pm, I was at the Paris Hilton which sits only 200 yards from the Eiffel Tower. No matter how many times I see it, it still amazes me - up close it is bigger than you could ever have imagined, from a distance it looks, especially at night, as if it were constructed of the finest Belgian lace.

Upon plugging my computer in to the wall to recharge the battery, I promptly blew a fuse in the hotel, shutting off the lights for the entire floor! Whoops, wrong adapter! No damage done, only the adapter was fried (which was not plugged into my computer at the time) so after maintenance made their way up and sorted it out, I was back up and running (plugging in the computer in the bathroom shaver socket for a charge).

There was little time for more than a bit of practising and a quick bite to eat before heading to the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, the famous hall where Stravinsky's Rite of Spring had its premiere. I can't say it's my favourite hall, it's rather like playing into your closet (full of clothes) but it does have history going for it. In addition to playing Mahler 6, we were to play a new piece by Henri Dutilleux which was commissioned by the Boston Symphony and premiered by us in October 1997, The Shadows of Time. This was added at the last minute; not only that, but we recorded the work live last week at 2 concerts in Boston and tonight, one week later, Erato will be offering it for sale as a "single" in the lobby of the hall! Amazing what can be done when people put their mind to it!

Dutilleux is a gentleman; at intermission, after we played his piece, he made his way backstage and sought out each member of the orchestra, personally thanking us for our contribution to his piece. A warm and very human gesture on his part.

It's hard to know how the Mahler went, I honestly couldn't hear what half the orchestra was doing as the stage at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées is so deep that the brass, winds and percussion seem to be in a separate room from the rest of the orchestra. The addition of the Dutilleux made for a long concert (2.5 hours) so I gladly fell into bed, grateful that the time change from London would give me an extra hour of sleep.

And there was evening and morning, the fifth day.

Saturday, March 21, 1998; Paris

This was a day I had been looking forward to for a long time. Since I began playing serpent (that 16th century instrument that has a shape that lives up to its name) several years ago, I had wanted to play for an extended period of time on an "original" instrument, not a modern reproduction. As good as my new serpent is (made by the Christopher Monk Workshops of London in 1996), there is something about an old instrument that is very special, and while I had briefly played on one at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts a few weeks earlier in preparation for a lecture/demonstration I will be giving there in April (it unfortunately wasn't very good), in Paris I knew I might have the opportunity to play and perhaps purchase an antique instrument.

My friend, Craig Kridel of the University of South Carolina is one of the most well versed people when it comes to serpent and he had told me of an instrument dealer in Paris, Andre Bissonnet. I had called Bissonnet yesterday to see if he would be in today and he said he would - I prayed he would have something interesting for me to try.

I took the Métro to M. Bissonnet's shop and found it with no difficulty (Instruments Musicaux Anciens, 6 rue du Pas-de-la-Mule, Paris - near the Place des Vosges). What a place! It was jammed from floor to ceiling with all manner of instruments - saxhorns, trombones (nothing too exotic, though), lutes and violins, ophicleides, Russian bassoons, other winds and brasses and one serpent. I explained to Bissonnet who I was and that I was interested in an old French serpent. While he eyed me a bit suspiciously at first ("Why," he must have thought, "does he play serpent...?"), he closed the shop for a moment and took me upstairs to his private collection - even more fantastic than the one in the shop below, where he took down from the wall, an exquisite instrument, by Baudouin.

My excitement mounted, as my Monk serpent was modelled after an instrument by Baudouin from 1810. To hold an original in my hands would be a great experience, I knew.

This serpent was in C with 2 keys, made, Bissonnet calculated, around 1801 or 1802. I was nearly afraid to play it for fear it would disappoint. But the first note on its original ivory mouthpiece gave me to know that I was playing an extraordinary instrument. It blew beautifully and easily, was in tune, and had a marvellous feel to it. I played for about 30 minutes while Bissonnet worked in his back room, eyeing me now and then as I played every serpent excerpt I could think of including music of Berlioz, Mendelssohn, Wagner, Handel as well as some chant and bits of Simon Proctor's Serpent Concerto. After a while, Bissonnet took the instrument from my hands, poured a quart of water into the bell and sloshed it around before emptying it in the street. Violà! The instrument had an even richer sound than before as some moisture was put back into the wood. A little care and feeding and I knew this would be a remarkable and very special instrument. Another 30 minutes of playing convinced me I had found something rare indeed.

With more than a little fear I asked the fateful question, "How much is it?" and when the reply came back (no, I will not tell you yet what he asked!) I gulped and began thinking fast. How could I pay for it? How could I get it around on the rest of the tour? How would I explain this to my wife? Was it a great deal or was I being taken for a ride? I just didn't know, so for once of my life I resisted impulse and regrettably handed the serpent back with a promise to call Bissonnet back tomorrow after I had done some research and spoken with Craig Kridel and my wife about it!

I left the shop exhausted from an hour of serpent playing but thrilled to have had the "high" of playing such a wonderful instrument. Ah, money, there's the rub. But no matter what I decide, I will always carry with me the memory of Bissonnet's shop and that serpent. Again, my thoughts ran, Who had previously owned it? What church might have had it? Was it played during the Revolution, in a home, in government ceremonies, in a concert. Could it have been used in the premiere of music of Berlioz? Who knows...?

The rest of the afternoon was spent on a wild goose chase, looking for posters of Paris and France to take home to my youngest daughter's French teacher. Nothing seemed to go right - the shop I had been sent to was closed for the weekend (after walking 2 hours to get there!), after returning to the hotel to ask the Concierge for another recommendation, I took the Métro to find out that all the shop had was maps and satellite photos. Exhausted, I decided it was time to get back to the room, do some laundry and practise a bit before heading over for Mahler 3 tonight. My kingdom for a poster, please!

The concert was good considering the horrid acoustics and the Choeur des Femmes de Radio France was another excellent chorus - a deeper, darker sound than the LSO Women's Chorus but without the precision and excellent diction of their British counterparts. So far, the LSO women have it over the American and French choruses in my mind, Tuesday, in Vienna, will bring us the Wiener Singverein and Wiener Sängerknaben which should be interesting as well.

The hall was hot as blazes, and 1 hour 47 minutes is a long time to sit in one place, but in the end, it came off well, and after a short bus ride back to the hotel, it's nice to be back in the room. After a call home and an e-mail session, it's off to bed without setting the alarm. Tomorrow is a day off.

And there was morning and evening, the sixth day. And, because it was very good, tomorrow is a day of rest. Achieved is the glorious work...

A European Tour Odyssey - Part 2 ››

Douglas Yeo joined the Boston Symphony Orchestra as bass trombonist in 1985 after holding the same position with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra from 1981-1985. He holds degrees from Wheaton College (Illinois) and New York University, and is the author of over 30 articles about the trombone and music in general; he teaches at Boston University and New England Conservatory of Music.