Sunday, 16 November 2008 22:10 Written by Pip Eastop

Horn Talk

Thoughts from Pip Eastop

I don’t know at what point Hugh Seenan decided to feature me quite prominently in the project which one might have called The Return of The London Horn Sound. Although I’d been utterly delighted to be involved in the first album, I hadn’t had a lot to do—just a few squeally high notes near the end of Caravan—but as the new plan took shape it became clear that Hughie was expecting me to play much more, even higher than before, and to play jazz solos and generally jump through flaming hoops. I was worried.

Around the time the idea for the new album was gathering momentum, I was waiting for a new instrument I had ordered from Engelbert Schmid and this was to be rather a key factor in my contribution to the whole thing. The new horn was my own personal solution to the problem of playing jazz on an orchestral-type of horn. I had been learning jazz trumpet for some 5 or 6 years by then and was trying to find a way of re-importing what I’d learned there, back to my main instrument. My problem was that I’d never really liked trying to play jazz on a normal Bb horn—it seemed too muddy, cumbersome and indirect. Eventually, several strands came together in my mind which made me get in touch with Engelbert Schmid and get the new horn built. The strands were these:

1. That the Tenor Horn in Eb is a very good jazz instrument (listen to anything by the jazz genius tenor horn player and composer, Django Bates).

2. That Engelbert Schmid makes triple horns with an Eb alto—exactly the same pitch as a tenor horn.

3. That I needed a way of continuing to practise and/or play jazz without having to lug another instrument around with me.

4. That the “stealth” jazz “side” to my new Schmid triple horn MIGHT be just what I needed to play some jazz solos on the new album.

5. That an Eb alto might even help a teeny bit with the extremely high stuff that was, by all accounts, going to be thrown at me.

6. I was quick to tell Hughie about all this and he seemed happy enough to accept what I was going to try to do, with the reservation that he wasn’t going to have any filthy tenor horns anywhere near the studio (I fear that prejudice against these fine instruments is all too common).

A pub lunch meeting was set up with Geoffrey Simon, Hugh Seenan, many bottles of wine and a bunch of hornplayers, in particular those who were going to be writing the tunes for the CD but also one or two of us who were going to be playing some of the solo lines. Gwylim was there, too, to find out about his triple guise—as pianist, composer and jazz horn player.

My only stipulations were that I wanted any jazz parts to be given to me in the key of Eb and that I needed plenty of time to practise them before the sessions.

The new horn arrived in due course and it proved to be an absolute beauty. The F and Bb sides are as good, if not better than those on my earlier Schmid double horn, and its “Stealth Eb Jazzhorn”, which is how I think of it, is just amazing. It’s perfectly in tune right across its range and integrates beautifully into the rest of the instrument. Towards the end of my jazz solo in Give It One I switch out of the Eb side right down to the F side for a big downward glissando and then back up to the Bb side for a little upward run of quarter-tones—and I don’t think that the sound quality changes all that much. It seems to me to be the perfect all-rounder and I absolutely love it.

Being still rather new to jazz improvisation I didn’t feel able to wait until the sessions and just make up my solos on the spur of the moment (like you’re supposed to do if you’re a real jazzer). Instead, I made sure I got the lead sheets with plenty of time—about a month, I think—and then worked them out... in fact I actually wrote them down and I’m very glad I did. I know they would have sounded pretty lame if I’d not done so. However, the solo spot I was given in Gwilym’s Blues For Hughie was a straightforward blues so I thought for that one I would leave it until the actual recording and just go for it. I’m quite proud of it, actually. It’s not too bad at all. Strangely I can’t remember playing a note of it. I’ve a friend who’s a neuroscientist who tells me that this kind of memory loss is a classical symptom of extreme fear! Well, scared I was—there were lots of hornplayers around in the studio, listening to my attempts, and there was very little time, so I felt a lot of pressure to come up with something good out of my completely empty head. Ready—steady—go! Er...

I’ve been asked to write something about the high stuff I played and explain how it’s possible to go so high. First, there is nothing freaky about playing up there and I do believe anyone can do it. Trumpet players do it all the time, although it’s slightly easier for them due to slight differences in the mouthpiece design. I think it’s mostly a cultural thing, though—trumpets play very high and horn players generally don’t. There’s no upper limit to the range of a horn but many players stop at top C as if it’s some kind of ceiling. The horn has a very wide range and most players learn to cover it by starting in the middle and working upwards and downwards from there to develop their range. My approach has been somewhat different because from rather early on in my hornplaying life I realised that it would probably be a good idea to get comfortable in the high register and then work downwards—in other words to put the problems into the middle register rather than have them high up where it’s hard work and makes your eyes bulge. Somebody once told me (I think it was Alan Civil) that the high register is “where the money is”. It turns out that this is not true at all, but at least the thought of it made me work.

So, playing high is something I’ve always practised carefully and regularly. I’ve treated it as something like archery target practise. What you need is accuracy, strength and confidence. My archery concept starts with accuracy and by practicing for this you slowly build up strength in the embouchure muscles — and your confidence is growing because you are not missing any. The aim is to get to a stage where you are going for a high note and you KNOW you are going to get it. The opposite feeling, as in when you KNOW you’re going to miss it, is usually quite reliable. Let’s be honest—there’s nothing worse than really taking a good swing at a high note and missing it. There are no two ways about it—it’s a disaster. No one will look you in the eye afterwards. Of course, people will tell you they didn’t notice, but you know they are just lying. Fear of cracking notes is what grips you when you aren’t completely confident, and if you do crack any whoppers you’ll be increasing that lack of confidence. So, the trick is to practise in such a way that you never miss them, so that you get used to 100% accuracy. It’s just that—a trick. It’s not so difficult, really, but you have to be methodical and patient. I’m certain that with the right sort of regular practise, anyone can do it.

Pip Eastop