Practicing the Wait

In November, I had my first opportunity to perform the Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 5 horn 1 part in a concert. Rehearsals had been going well, and I felt confident about the famous movement 2 solo.

However, I kept chipping the first note of the solo in rehearsals. I tried not to let this bother me, but when it happened again in the dress rehearsal, I spent the drive home thinking about it and trying to figure out what, if anything, to do differently at the concert. 

By the time I got home, I decided to try something similar to what I described in my 30-Nov-2024 post: I would practice how to wait. I thought that I was just getting too fidgety, physically and mentally, while waiting for the solo entrance. As a result, my breathing and setup were not consistent and reliable.

On Saturday, concert day, I worked out roughly how I wanted to approach the wait, and I added some notes to the part. 

The first thing I wrote down was how to handle the first five bars: “Sit back, sit tall, relaxed.” For me, the idea of “sit back, sit tall” helps me achieve a posture with plenty of expansion room in the upper chest, which encourages a nice full breath. Otherwise, there is nothing for me to do here except count to 5. There’s no need to scoot around on my chair, shift my feet, move the music a half inch to the left on the stand, or any of those other fidgety things that always seem so necessary when adrenaline starts flowing. Just listen and count.

At the violin 2 cue, I knew I would do what I always do first to get ready to play—move my right hand into the bell. This is a habitual move, certainly not something that I needed to learn. But it became part of my planned choreography of the wait. 

In the next bar, I began the long breath out, against slightly pursed lips for resistance, as I discussed in my 30-Nov-2024 blog post. 

In the entrance bar, I took a nice full breath during the first couple of beats. Finally, and perhaps controversially, I set up on the mouthpiece on beat 3 and actually started sending air out through the mouthpiece before the entrance. In the past, I have found that this little trick helps me to “taste” the upcoming note and play it more accurately.

To lock this in for the evening concert, I practiced the approach while listening to an orchestral recording, starting at the beginning of the movement. I repeated this waiting rehearsal about 15 times.

These specific things worked for me, but I don’t expect they would necessarily be right for anyone else. The general idea, though, might be helpful for others: Give your body and mind easy and relaxing things to do when you have to wait for a big entrance. Practice it a few times so that you are comfortable with the timing. The purpose is to always arrive at the entrance in a reliable, consistent, prepared way.

I’ll leave you with this related thought from Frøydis Ree Wekre. I came across it yesterday while reading her book Collected Writings:

Have a plan for what to think about while waiting for the entrance; e.g., a pulse, a melody in the work, or in some cases an unrelated work that leads seamlessly into the entrance.
p. 18