Sunday, January 31, 2010

Technical Difficulties Resolved(?)

I believe I've finally resolved the issue of failing audio/video files on blogspot. It's quite simple really: Don't use blogspot to host audio/video.

I've replaced my media files with embedded youtube links and that seems to have resolved the problem. Thanks for sticking with me while I've been trying to get this fixed, and let me know if you have any issues getting these files to work.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Stirrer in C#

Earlier today I sat down to practice the next Telemann Fantasia in my recording project (more on that in a moment). Every time I hit C# right above the bass clef staff I'd hear a suspicious rattle. Something in the room was vibrating. Often I'll let that kind of thing go for a little bit. It's a common enough ailment with brass players--we play these booming instruments that set the whole room vibrating.

I checked all the nearby likely suspects--pencils on the stand, a tuner leaning up against a metronome, other music stands, my trombones. None of the above. Now, it's much easier to find the source of the noise if you have a helper--one person plays the guilty note while the other hunts around the room for the stray vibration. Unfortunately, no one else was around, so I started marching around the room, blasting C#'s over and over, trying to follow the buzzing noise. Every time I thought I was getting warmer, the trail would grow cold. My studio is up in the attic and so it has an A shaped ceiling--as I moved step by step around the room, C#...C#...C#... the rattle would come and go--it would be right in front of me and then suddenly right behind me. The slope of the ceiling was playing tricks on my ears. After what must have been 20 minutes, I finally found the culprit--a wooden paint stirrer--you know, those sticks you get at Lowe's when you buy a gallon of paint. It was behind a book case, leaning up against the baseboard molding. I remember that I had unplugged something from a nearby outlet the other day--the stirrer must have shifted and was suddenly all-too-responsive to C# just above the bass clef staff.

The next Fantasia on tap for me is number 1. Telemann wrote this one in A Major. Alan Raph's edition also has this one in A Major (the only one in the set where Raph keeps Telemann's original key); however, Raph's is published in tenor clef. For this one I'll be using my own transcription, which is in D Major (don't worry, I'll dig into that discussion in another post).

I'm particularly excited about this one. I'll discuss it in more depth over the coming days--hopefully post some video too. Suffice it to say that in this piece Telemann uses some neat compositional tricks, and the second movement (adagio) contains a section that's just stunningly beautiful.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Linkin'

In case anyone is interested in looking at the scores of these Telemann Fantasias, while the versions I'm recording from (with the keys and clefs I'm using) are not available in the public domain, the original published manuscript is available here. That, by the way is hosted on the truly extraordinary IMSLP/Petrucci Music Library, which contains tens of thousands of scores and parts of public domain classical music. That manuscript can be a bit difficult to read--it appears to have been photocopied a few times before it was scanned; however, here's one of a number of nicely typeset versions that are available on the internet. This latter is from the Werner Icking archive, which is another great source for classical scores as well as MIDI files.

...

As a side note, I'm aware that the video/audio files I've posted are experiencing periodic errors. This is apparently a known issue on blogger. I followed the directions for the alleged "fix" and am hoping that the problem is resolved. Please keep trying and I'll keep trying too.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Audio Post - Telemann, Fantasia #5



Telemann, Fantasia #5. Copyright 2010, Jeff Lazar. All rights reserved.

In my previous post, I discussed each movement in some small depth and put up a video on the use of theme-and-variation in the second movement.

[note: I replaced the originally posted file with a youtube embedded version of the same file. The blogspot video was having too many problems. --Jeff 1/31/2010]

Monday, January 18, 2010

Theme and Variation in Telemann's Fantasia #5

Some notes on Telemann's Fantasia number 5, which will be the next piece I record.

The first movement goes back and forth between an intense, accelerating presto statement in 4/4, and a very lyrical largo in 3/2--the fastest and slowest markings on the metronome. There are 4 measures of presto, then 4 of largo, then 4 presto, then 4 largo, and then there's an 8 measure closing largo section, which essentially repeats a 4 measure pattern. The first presto section is a series of ascending lines where every other note bounces down to an Eb--the line works its way up to the Eb an octave higher. This is followed by a sweet largo which winds its way back down the scale from a Bb down to an F. The same thing happens again; this time a fourth lower--we have a virtually identical presto, only the repeating bass note is a low Bb, followed by the same largo which descends this time from F down to C. The movement ends in a pretty and slow dotted pattern that repeats itself.

The 9/8 in the second movement (Allegro) drives from dotted-quarter-note beats, to a bouncy quarter-eighth-quarter-eighth pattern, to a a straight triplet pattern. This gives us the sense of a growing intensity as Telemann throws more and more notes at us. What Telemann is really doing here is a simple theme and a set of variations. The first 3 measures (ie, the first 9 dotted quarter notes) is his statement, his theme. The next 3 measures (quarter-eighth-quarter-eighth) contains the exact same line with eighth notes bopping in and out at various intervals. And finally, the three measures after that do the same thing only with triplets (not technically triplets, but 3 eighths against a dotted quarter). He plays with his theme using different keys, different octaves, and different flavors of variation throughout the movement. The effect is the forefather of a pattern brass plays know all too well. This is just a condensed version of the exact model we see in the concert brass solos of Jean Baptiste Arban, Herbert Clarke, Simone Mantia, Arthur Pryor, and their ilk. I try to illustrate this in the following video.



[note: I replaced the originally posted file with a youtube embedded version of the same file. The blogspot video was having too many problems. --Jeff 1/31/2010]

And finally, the last movement is also an allegro--this time in 6/8. Whereas the second movement is much more rhythmically driven, this movement feels more melodic. For me the tune evokes a bunch of hunters with horses and hounds riding into the woods to catch a fox. Even though it was written for a flute, it sounds completely natural as a horncall, and (perhaps because I've only played it on a horn and not a flute) it's hard for me to hear it as anything but that.

I'm hoping to get this Fantasia recorded this week.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Next!!!!

The next piece I record will be Telemann's Fantasia #5. The original is in C major--I'll be working from Alan Raph's version, which in Eb major (it's #7 in his book).

This one has some technical challenges in an up-tempo and interval-y second movement. The intervals, which come at you quickly and somewhat relentlessly, are not always intuitive, and some are pretty wide leaps. I'm already pretty comfortable with the first and third movements, so hopefully it won't be too long before I can record this one.

In the next couple of days, while I'm still working this up, I hope to post an analysis of each movement, with some video (barring any technical issues) about Telemann's use of theme-and-variations in the middle movement.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Wherefore Number Ten?

As you can see from my previous post, I am 8.33% of the way through this project with the completion of my recording of Fantasia #10. If you consult the chart I posted the other day, you'd see that #10 was originally in the key of F# minor, and I played the Raph version, which is in A minor.

The first movement, (which I have twice erroneously referred to as a giusto tempo, and which is actually a tempo giusto), has the following form: A - repeat A - B - A - coda.

The repeat of section A is written as a straight repeat; however, I've added some ornamentation. I believe the practice of Telemann's day was to add ornamentation or even do some broader improvisation on those repeats. I expect to be sticking with the practice of using modest ornamentation on the second passes of these pieces. I don't have anywhere near the knowledge or expertise to pull off a successful Charlie Parker/JS Bach improv, and I'm sure I'd fool no one if I tried. Section B slightly develops the theme from A but starts it a whole step higher. It then returns to restate the theme with the original tones from A. The coda is really the last 5 measures beginning with a surprise low F, which does a good job of signaling that you're just about home.

If you were just looking at repeats in the movement, the form would be AABB; however, I play it AAB, i.e., without repeating the second section. A couple of reasons for that--first, a mundane one: the Raph edition which I'm using doesn't have a repeat in section B--not sure if that was an error or if it was intentional. The second reason is that low F I mentioned in the previous paragraph (D in the original key). It catches you off guard like a clock striking one. It just doesn't work the same (for me) the second time through. Usually, if the music is AABB I play it that way, but I'm always open to a reasonable argument for AAB or just AB. By the way, when I first described the movement above, I described it as AABAC. I did it that was because I was parsing the B section as BAC, which shifts up a step (B), then back to the original statement (A), then to the ending (C) with the low F.

The tempo marking in the first movement, a tempo giusto, is defined in the New Harvard Dictionary of Music as
"an appropriate tempo or the usual tempo for the type of work at hand, or a return to regular tempo after a passage in which tempo is flexible."
Obviously, since these are the first notes of the piece, Telemann's not talking about a return to a regular tempo. He's saying, just play it the right tempo. "You know," would have been as useful a marking for me. However, I guess to a set of Baroque ears, the tempo would have been obvious.

The second movement, a cut-time presto, sure feels like a lively dance to me, and yet I can't resist the urge to insert a slight lift, a pause, every time the theme re-introduces itself. Although there are no repeats in this movement, I add some small ornamentation toward the latter half--the last time that the original, choppy statement (E-E-A-A-F-F-E) is repeated, it is written an octave up. At that point, I turn the second E into a triplet arpeggio down to the A, and then the second A becomes a triplet up to the F. I also add a baroque turn two measures later. I only know a small amount about the theory behind ornamentation, but it seems to me that by that point the listener has heard that choppy motif maybe five or so times in the movement, and they can hear the theme quite well through the ornamentation at that point.

The final movement, moderato, caused me a surprising amount of difficulty when I tried to record it the other night. I sat down with it the next day and got a clean take the first try. Silly brain. It's a little movement with repeated A and B sections. Again, the first passes are pretty straight, while I drop some trills into the repeated sections.

As to the title of this post: why did I start with number 10 instead of plain old number 1? The reason's pretty dull actually. It's the first one in Alan Raph's edition and was therefore the first one I worked up. As I thumb through the rest of the volume, I'm thinking my guess that Raph ordered them progressively is correct. For the most part they seem to get harder as the book goes on. So I have my work cut out for me.

One down. Eleven to go.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Audio Post - Telemann, Fantasia #10

Telemann, Fantasia #10. Copyright 2010, Jeff Lazar. All rights reserved.



[note: I replaced the originally posted file with a youtube embedded version of the same file. The blogspot video was having too many problems. --Jeff 1/31/2010]

Monday, January 11, 2010

The Humbling Effect of the Recording Studio

You think you know a piece. And then you're quickly disavowed of that notion when you sit down in the studio and press the "record" button. I attempted to record Fantasia #10 last night. More than anything I wanted to see what kind of sound I would get from my simple recording set-up; however, I'd hoped if the recording quality were ok that I'd get enough decent material to call this one recorded.

Number 10 has three movements (a tempo giusto, presto, and moderato). I think I got enough for complete takes of the first two, but not the third. It's easy when you're practicing to not even notice those little broken or flubbed notes--you play right on through them as if they never happened. But tape (or in this case, memory card) doesn't lie. And it's most unforgiving.

We ask a lot of our brains when we play music. Producing a recording while playing the music asks a whole lot more. If I've learned a piece well, much of it goes on auto-pilot when I play. That doesn't mean it plays itself; that just means I don't have to focus too much mental energy on certain functions like fingerings or the shape of my mouth, so that I can refocus that energy on more subtle things like how big a breath will I need to take two measure from now so that I have enough support to play that crescendo that's coming up on the next line. That kind of thing.

Think of your drive to work. The first time you drive there, you're looking at the directions, focusing mainly on getting from point A to point B. After you know the route your brain starts focusing on more nuanced decisions like: ok, I'd better get in the left lane soon because the right lane is about to slow down because everyone's trying to merge to get the exit ramp. That's much more subtle than just getting from A to B.

When you're alone in the practice room you don't necessarily do a good job preparing your brain for the barrage of other thoughts that will go through your head while playing in a different context. When I play with others, I'm thinking of my playing in the context of the other musicians and incorporating the music coming out of my horn into the whole. And when I'm recording something, I'm keeping track of errors and starting and stopping points and whether or not something is going to require additional takes. Not sure if that sounds like much, but it's very distracting, and it's a distinctly non-musical distraction. Music is kind of a linear activity--you play the note and you move on to the next. If you spend too much time dwelling on the note you just played, it's hard to focus on the one you're about to play. When you're engineering a recording, you need to pay special attention to the thing that just happened--i.e., was that ok?--and you don't care so much about what's about to happen. Two distinct and competing brain functions.

Think of this old brain teaser: Name the color of each word below. If you're able to read English, it's a little hard to force yourself to see the color while ignoring the word itself, particularly if you do it quickly.

BLUE ORANGE YELLOW RED GREEN WHITE

Again, two distinct and competing brain functions.

Suffice it to say, playing with a recorder going is very different from playing without.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Numbering

Alan Raph's edition of the Telemann Flute Fantasias uses a different numbering scheme from the original. This gets confusing because since he's transposing to different keys from the original (in all cases but no. 1 in A major) you can't tie them back using key names or the numbers. I'll be using the original numbering scheme, not Raph's, though I'll be working from 7 of Raph's arrangements. Below is a handy chart to tie it all together. I'm not sure why Raph renumbered them in his edition. The more challenging Fantasias seem clustered in his higher numbers. Perhaps he arranged them progressively by order of difficulty.

The first chart is sorted by the original number (the scheme I'll be using), and the second chart is sorted by Raph's numbers.



Friday, January 8, 2010

Clef Transposition - Decisions, Decisions

Last time I rambled on somewhat extensively about Clef Transposition (i.e., transposing a piece to a different key by changing the clef and leaving the notes where they are); however, I neglected to mention something. Whenever you change the clef you actually get a choice of new keys to pick from. Consider the two different choices Alan Raph made in his edition for Fantasias 3 and 9 (or, using Raph's numbering, Nos. 4 and 10, respectively). In #3 (A minor), he changes the clef from treble to tenor, adds two flats and goes from Am to Bm--a drop of one whole step. In #9 he also changes from treble to tenor clef, but this time, he adds a whopping 9 flats (or 3 sharps depending on which way you're spinning the circle of 5ths) to go from E major (4 sharps) to Db major (5 flats)--a drop of one and a half steps.

What happened? Shouldn't it be the same every time? Well, no. Raph gets to make a choice. For #9 he COULD have done the same thing he did in #3, i.e., add two flats and drop one whole step (in this case from E major to D major--4 sharps to 2). But he decides to flatten the D and go down an extra half step. The notes are all still in the same place but the key signature's different.

Okay. So why did he do it differently? Why did he add two flats to #3 and nine flats to #9, instead of doing it the same way both times? Well, I don't know why he did it, but here's why I would have done the same thing: In the previous post, I mentioned that I (and I'm guessing many brass players) find Db major with its five flats easier to play in than D major with its two sharps, because Db major is "closer" (on the circle of fifths) to Bb major (around which most of our horns are built). Db is simply an easier key to play. In #3, Raph COULD have picked Ab minor instead of A minor, but then instead of having no accidentals at all, he would have had an ungodly seven flats to deal with. Sure, brass players like flats, but not that much.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Clefs and Keys

So, as I started saying last time, Alan Raph does an interesting little trick with (all but one of) his transcriptions of the Telemann Fantasias.

A transcription (re-writing music for different instrumentation) is often little more than merely transposing the music (i.e., changing to a different key). Certain pieces work better for certain instruments in different keys for various reasons. In one key the music may go to (or beyond) the high or low extremes of an instrument's range, but in another key it may sit perfectly in your comfort zone. Also, because of the way certain instruments are pitched, some keys are just easier to play. Brass players feel warm and cozy in the flat keys, while string players prefer the sharp ones. For many years on euph I was much happier to play in the key of D-flat major (5 flats) than I was in D major (2 sharps). You'd think that 5 accidentals would be much more daunting than 2, but the euph (and the trumpet and the trombone) are built around the key of B-flat major (2 flats), so D-flat major with its 5 flats is actually closer to our "home" key than D major.

It's the opposite with strings. The open strings on a violin are G-D-A-E, which happen to be the first 4 sharp keys on the circle of fifths. First position on violin is a walk through the sharp keys. It's no accident that orchestras tune to A (3 sharps) while bands tune to B-flat.

One other kind of transposition is Clef transposition. Tubas, euphs, and trombones generally read bass clef, while the higher pitched trumpets, flutes, and violins read treble clef. There are various tricks for reading music written for other instruments. For example, a bass-clef-reading trombonist can read off the alto sax part (the alto sax is an E-flat instrument) by replacing the treble clef with a bass clef and adding 3 flats to the key signature. A euph player who can read treble clef trumpet parts (which is keyed in B-flat), can read tenor clef in C by replacing the clef and adding two flats.

I told you this was going to get a little wonky.

What Raph did was simply slap another clef (sometimes bass, and sometimes tenor) in front of the flute part and change the key accordingly. There's a certain nice advantage to doing it this way. Often when you play music for a differently pitched instrument in the original key, you find a lot of the music falls many lines above or below the staff for your instrument, out of your instrument's comfortable, or even playable, range. Music written for a particular instrument will more-often-than-not stay reasonably close to the staff. That is of course not a rule, just a generalization. But there's a practical reason for it. It is just easier to write and read dots on the staff than to count six lines above or below. Our brains get confused when they see all those little lines stacked together. In fact, euphs and trombones and cellos often switch from bass to tenor to treble clef as their music goes higher and higher. That way, instead of trying to count lines for the B-flat four lines above the bass clef staff, we can easily read and write the B-flat that sits comfortably immeidately on the top of the tenor clef staff. (Tubists and Bass Trombonists would beg to differ. They earn their bread and butter hanging out many lines below the bass clef staff. The opposite is true of violins and other high pitched instruments).

So by changing the clef (and key signature), Raph kept the notes physically in the same place on the staff, basically "centering" the music appropriately for a low brass instrument. I imagine Raph as a young man bringing this flute music home to play and wanting to get down to business right away--he doesn't need to re-write anything, just change the clef and the key signature--instant transposition.

While I'm perfectly comfortable reading tenor clef, I prefer (with one or two exceptions) to play the Fantasias with a straight bass clef transposition--in some cases due to range issues (in a few of the Fantasias Raph's edition gets uncomfortably high for me), and in some cases due to key preferences (I don't mind playing in sharp keys; however, sometimes you come across some knuckle-buster fingerings, where you have a lot of fast valve work with the third and fourth fingers). I just made some practical decisions to make these more playable.

A picture here may be worth several thousand words. Take a look at the first measure of three versions of the B minor Fantasia (#3) on this image (I guess you click on the picture to see it close up). Louise Moyse's flute version (in the original key) is on top, Alan Raph's tenor clef transcription is on the bottom left, and my bass clef transcription is on the bottom right. (Ignore for now the fact that in Raph's edition this is number 4, not 3--I'll talk about numbering in another post). Look at the opening triad in all three. If you ignore the clef and key signature, the notes are identical. However, keep the notes in the same place and change the clef and key and you go from the original B minor (two sharps) to Raph's A minor (no accidentals) in tenor clef to my D minor (one flat) in bass clef. Instant transposition. See? Simple.

Seven of the transcriptions I use (Nos. 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, and 12) are Raph's bass clef transcriptions. Three (3, 8, and 11) are my own bass clef transcriptions (whereas Raph did tenor clef transcriptions for these). If you're keeping score that leaves two more (Nos. 1 and 9). In my arrangement of number 9, I just transpose from E major on the flute to A-flat major on euph (Raph did a tenor clef transposition for this one). A straight bass clef transposition for this one would have brought me to G major, which isn't necessarily a big deal, but it would have yielded some awkward fingerings in the Allegro movement--those knuckle-busters I mentioned above. So I picked a more friendly key. Does that make me a wimp? Perhaps, but you want your transcription to work well on your instrument.

That leaves us with one more. Number one. Get out the ibuprofen because that one's a little funky and gets a blog post all to itself.

Stolen Works

Alan Raph does an interesting little trick with (all but one of) his transcriptions. Well, interesting in a wonky, low brass, clef-y sort of way. Often, when musicians want to "borrow" (or "steal" depending on your point of view) literature from the repertoire of another instrument, we transcribe the music for our instrument of choice. In other words we write it out in a way that makes it reasonably--and (hopefully) successfully--playable on our instrument.

Actually, before I go on about what Raph (and I) did in the Telemann transcriptions, I should say a quick word about why and what we borrow. If you're a pianist or a violinist and you want to study solo or chamber music by the pillars of western classical music, your choices are nearly endless--enormous catalogs of music composed for your instrument by Bach, Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, and Brahms, to name just a few. However, if you want to play music composed for euphonium, you're looking at a vastly smaller body of work, virtually all of which was composed after 1900.

So we borrow.

Heavily.

From every other instrument we can find.

Of course we borrow extensively from trombone repertoire--trombone and euph share the same range and pretty much the same mouthpiece. In essence, they're the same instrument, just bent differently. From the cello, which has a similar range and in many ways a similar role in ensembles (the euph is often called the "cello of the band"), we borrow Bach's suites, Schubert's Arpeggione Sonata, and Bruch's Kol Nidre. From the trumpet (which shares the same valve fingerings as euph) we borrow Haydn's and Hummel's concertos, as well as the most used method book in the brass universe, the Arban method. The Bassoon gives us a Mozart concerto, a Telemann sonata, and lots of study materials (the bassoon also lands in roughly the same range as the euph). From the French Horn we love to swipe the Mozart concertos. And from the piano, we'll steal anything that isn't nailed down for duets and chamber groups. We also take liberally from vocal works--the operatic tenor is a good fit for the timbre and range of the euphonium, choral music often works beautifully for a Tuba/Euph quartet, and no serious low brass student hasn't spent many hours in the woodshed with Rochut's transcriptions of Bordogni's vocalises.

And from the flute rep Bach gives us a beautiful sonata and an unaccompanied partita (in which Bach seems to forget he's writing for a wind instrument--the first movement is 46 measures (if you don't take the repeat) of straight 16th notes (the only rest in the entire movement falls, somewhat comically, on the first beat of the first measure)).

And of course, the flute gives us the Telemann Fantasias.

That is a short list. In my practice I also steal Irish fiddle music, organ music, Charlie Parker sax solos, Mozart's Clarinet Concerto, the trumpet opening from Mahler's 5th Symphony, Shostakovich's Preludes and Fugues for piano, Bach's violin sonatas and partitas, and the Vaughn Williams Tuba Concerto. I've been playing euphonium for 30 years and I've accumulated a good sized library of sheet music, the majority of which was originally composed for instruments other than euphonium. The euph repertoire is smaller than most other instruments'. We get used to keeping an open ear to find new music to play.

But I digress--I was going to discuss Alan Raph's interesting transcription trick. We'll save that for next time.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Telemann's Fantasias and the Bach Cello Suites

Georg Philipp Telemann (1681 - 1767) wrote 12 Fantasias or Fantasies for unaccompanied flute. Each piece consists of multiple movements in a variety of Baroque styles. I first discovered this music many years ago in a set of Trombone transcriptions by Alan Raph, and I still rely heavily on that edition.

The music hearkens the Bach Cello Suites, which are also a mainstay in the studies of serious low brass players. It's difficult to avoid comparisons. Both the Fantasias and the Cello Suites use a single instrumental voice to maintain melodic lines while implying often complex harmonies. Both from Germany, the composers were contemporaries--Bach was born four years after Telemann. The Fantasias were published in 1732-33--a decade or so after the Cello Suites were presumably composed.

Both are sets of large works in which the performer is completely exposed from the first note to the last. There's no hiding. And there are no breaks. You can't let your guard down for a second.

It's quite easy to hear some of the Cello Suites in the Fantasias; however, as Alan Raph points out in the forward to his Telemann edition,
"Unlike the 'Bach', these fantasies are composed for a wind instrument and thereby ask for little compromise on the part of the trombonist. Phrase-breathing is an inherent part of their construction, while double-stops and re-tuning of strings are not."

Oh, yeah. Breathing. That's where the cellists (and I'm a budding cellist myself) laugh at us wind players when we attempt to scale the Cello Suites--those inconvenient sixteenth-note runs that last for pages at a time. Taking a quick look through Telemann's score, you can see he's not shy about creating somewhat lengthy phrases that require lungs filled to capacity and efficiently used--he was writing for the whispering breath of a flute after all, not the oom-pah of that large twisting spaghetti of brass, which is the tuba's smaller cousin; however, there is always that light at the end of the tunnel--a sixteenth note rest or a chop-able eighth note or quarter note at the end of two or three lines of sixteenth notes.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

A man, a plan...



In his email signature line, my friend Andy quotes Leonard Bernstein, "To achieve great things, two things are needed; a plan, and not quite enough time." I like that, but I might rework it to say, "To achieve great things, two things are needed; a plan, and an audience."

I believe my plan to record Telemann's 12 Flute Fantasias on Euphonium--a plan which has now made it onto my list of new year's resolutions for the third year in a row--has suffered, or at least languished, because no one was looking. Failure is less daunting if no one even knows there's a plan.

So, while I realize the Telemann/Euphonium niche (okay, micro-niche) of the internet is a small one, I'm hoping the act of "going public" with this project will actually encourage me to do the work, i.e., complete the transcriptions, analyze and create the ornamentations, learn the music, record it, engineer it, and perhaps most important of all, maintain my chops on my horn.