Perils of Caffeine in the Evening

So I’m a little flummoxed about the national anthem controversy as it moves into its sophomore season.

On one hand, I have no idea why a secular sports event needs to include the national anthem (or God Bless America). So I have no problem with guys using that space to make a heartfelt non-football statement when it does get performed, because the NFL has basically declared open mic.

But in saying that, I’m harboring a guilty secret: I love playing the anthem for a stadium of 105000 who are singing full-throated as I’m playing. It’s a physical rush that has nothing to do with politics or patriotism, it’s just a personal pleasure, a musical selfie.  Musically, the anthem is hard to sing, and many vocalists have foundered on the iceberg of “the land of the free”, either stylistically or simply because they’re not physically not up to the task, or both.  Despite that, people in the crowd are singing, and I’m sure that in some quarters it’s not pretty, but it’s tempting to extrapolate this combined cacophony into a kumbaya moment, where there’s more harmony than enmity.

And I think there’s some truth there, even as the dying echo of “home of the brave” triggers the dissipation of this ephemeral unity and  we return to Home and Away, Republican and Democrat.  I think there’s value in anything that conjoins us, even for a few measures of bad intonation and limited vocal range.

But for those who just aren’t swept up in what they might regard as a cheesy or even malevolent coalescence, I don’t think it should be enforced.  I have no problem if they use that open mic to express their own views on patriotism, justice and anything else, including lousy singing.

Cut the anthem and God Bless and all the other non-sports pageantry, or allow all manner of respectful, heartfelt reflection and projection.

As you know, I’m semi-immersed in making music, however fitfully, playing my trumpet in a symphonic band and a swing band.  A few years ago, Betsy and I traveled to Atlanta to play and march with our bandmates in the Lesbian and Gay Band Association annual conference.  We played a number there that, years later, is indelibly in my head called October, composed by Eric Whitacre.  Here’s what I wrote about it:

Suddenly it’s October, my birth month, and there’s a bite in the air and a decidedly more severe angle to the sunlight, as if it’s beginning to ration itself, as opposed to its June - August profligacy.

In its honor, here’s one of the most gorgeous pieces I’ve ever played, Eric Whitacre’s October for concert band. This recording is from the 2013 LGBA (Lesbian Gay Band Association) concert that Betsy and I traveled to Atlanta to participate in.

It’s a tone poem, and ingeniously imparts the possibility of warm, brilliant days in October, while constantly reminding that it’s a month of inexorable attrition, decay and loss, as its mood swings from brilliant brass to minor-key woodwinds.

October - Eric Whitacre:
[audio:http://phil2bin.com/sounds/2013_LGBA/10_October.mp3]

Lately, I discovered that Whitacre had transcribed the same piece for choir, and it was otherworldly to hear it so re-invented.  I’ll still prefer my LGBA version because I can hear myself and Betsy, but it’s amazing to hear the same piece back at me so transformed: