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Maybe I misheard the definition of the oboe, when at an early age I heard it described as "conical" – I thought they said "comical." Even the original word for this instrument, "hautboy" brings smiles when you say it. To boot, the oboe’s larger brother, the English Horn, is also a word of questionable origin. In fact it may be a mistranslation of the French cor anglé (translated: angled horn) which sounds similar to cor anglais (translated English Horn). It is still a great fun, after 30-some years of taming its tempestuous temperament!
The oboe’s history is nothing if not diverse, celebrated by the fact that today’s orchestras still tune to it, and yet some third world countries use its non-keyed ancestor to charm snakes (which are deaf, by the way) from baskets for open-pocketed tourists. This instrument indeed casts its spell on all who listen and especially on those of us who attempt to master its wily ways.
Known as "an ill wind that no ones blows good" the oboe is no less of a challenge to teach. But to accept its difficult character, and its mean-tempered reed apparatus as a challenge and not a curse will reap the victor a reward bigger than the largest lottery. Herein lies our personal battle. Not only to play it with seeming effortlessness, but as it was once said, "in the hands of a master, the size of the instrument shrinks."
I teach from a philosophy I call the "ADD Principle". This stands for Attitude, Discipline and Determination. If we have a healthy attitude and respect for the music, each other, and especially ourselves, and if we work with a guided, clearly defined discipline, and if we are determined to achieve the goal, no matter how long it takes, the oboe will be rewarding. I teach from a philosophy that all tension, aside from the breathing structure, is detrimental to the sound, and I work hard at listening for interceptive tension in my students. I also believe all of our playing troubles come from one source: the misuse of some fundamental. I consider it my challenge to unlock which fundamental is out of balance and to provide the objective pair of ears to steer the student to the best balance within their own playing. I make it clear to my students that practice is like a savings account, where, over time and investment, you can make a withdrawal. The amount of the withdrawal is clearly determined by the amount of investment and the length of time you’ve allowed it to accrue. To become a good oboist requires no magic. Playing the oboe is not brain surgery. Making a reed on the other hand....
Let me take a moment to address the reed. Since all oboists are
notoriously obsessed with it, and most don’t understand it, and yet
those of us who do are affected by it, I believe careful, guided
experimentation is the only solution. I have a style of reedmaking that
works for me; as does the equipment I have chosen. I am, however, very
open-minded towards other styles, tone, and musical attributes. I believe,
succinctly, that the reed must do all of the following: play in tune, be
limitless with dynamic contrast, make a pleasant sound, have stability, and
- most importantly - be easily controlled. That’s it. I have worked
hard to accrue an extensive list of cane suppliers for my students and have
some of the equipment necessary to allow them to experiment. Through the
student’s experimentation - trial and error - they also learn
discipline, and feel success on a uniquely personal level. I believe a
separate reedmaking class is essential, away from playing, so the student
can learn to take the time to go slowly, and yet not sacrifice valuable
practice time trying to find something to merely play on.
I may not have all the answers, but believe in positive encouragement to enable the student to find solutions within themselves. I enjoy infecting my students with my contagious love of the oboe and the incredible wealth of repertoire with which we perform. The oboe is the center of many jokes, but in movie after movie, the oboe displays the most pungent, dramatic "pathos" of the plot. What a paradox! In closing, I’d like to quote a portion of an article from The Instrumentalist (May 1988), written by oboist Burt Lucarelli. I find it impossible to explain it better:
"... teaching the craft of oboe playing to students who wanted to learn how to play the instrument [kept] me from becoming lost in the illusions of the performance platform. It has taught me that how much I could move an audience ultimately depended on how much craft I commanded, on being a student of the craft of the instrument, and on having a passion for it. Teaching for me is a manifestation of the passion for the craft in its purest form, while performance is the practical application of that craft. The two elements are destined to be entirely interdependent.
Teaching is pivotal to my life in music, as the phenomenon of self-discovery is pivotal to any real process of teaching and learning. The most effective teachers are those who become the moderators of a dialogue, those who try never to put a student in a purely passive role. If students are to be helped onto a path that will lead to future growth and development when they are on their own, it is the questions to ask of themselves which they must learn. The answers are personal, and ultimately each student will arrive at those answers in his own way; but questions are universal and define the parameters."