The Full Circle Chops

I went back and forth, trying to decide if I really wanted to write this article. So I asked myself some questions: Am I trying to get rid of perhaps resentment? No, did that a long time ago. Do I feel like I am not alone with the problems I had with my embouchure? Yes, the OTJ connected me with players who have had injuries. Do I feel like there may be something I can offer, perhaps if it's only empathy, to those who are suffering as a result of an embouchure injury? I believe so. So, here is a long story made short...how my chops have come full circle.

Easy

I loved to play trombone. I was good at it, and my audiences always gave me a lot of praise after my performances. My future was promising, I had the right connections. My teacher in college told me I could go to the moon and back with my talent. I absolutely loved playing! The trombone was at my command, every nuance, every attack, every phrase. My range came easily; in fact, it all came easily to me. I played with confidence, and was concerned about nothing but the music that came out of the horn. And, every time I practiced, I just got better and better.

What's going on?

Who would've thought all that would come to a screeching halt over night? Maybe even in minutes? I picked up my horn to warm up, and it just didn't feel right. On my lips. "Now, this will go away after I warm up. Easy does it....This just still doesn't feel right. Where is that 'sweet spot'? Is it there? How did it feel yesterday? Can't remember. Well, maybe if I put the horn down, it'll come back to me after a while."

"No, this just isn't working. Maybe if I place the mouthpiece lower. OK. Try this. Just doesn't feel right. Maybe if I push my jaw out a little. This sure doesn't feel good. I'll pull my corners back a little. There! That did it. I'll go through the Galliard. My senior recital is next month."

"What happened to my sound? My mom is telling me I don't sound like I usually do. This is starting to hurt. Put the horn down. It'll go away. I have never had this problem before. Endurance? Give me eight hours a day of playing...wait, all I can do is ten minutes' worth. Tomorrow will be better. I'll practice after I get back to school."

Frustration

So this is the cycle I began to go through, day after day, after day. Mash the notes, run out of breath. Pick the horn up, put it down. Pace. My lip began to swell...thank goodness it never bled. My sound became strident, my tonguing...what tonguing? Lip slurs? Forget it. What am I going to do about my recital? I tell my teacher what is happening, even though I'm not for sure. I was told not to worry, that I'm peaking out in my playing. Frustration. "No, I can do this. It's just a phase."

"This is dress rehearsal is killing me. There's no way I can make it through this tomorrow. My teacher is telling me it sounds good, not to worry, I'll do fine. Yeah, right! "Please let me postpone this recital." " Sorry, can't. You want to graduate?"

"A couple of notes fluffed in the Bach. I see people whispering out in the audience. Oh, this is killing me! Just one more piece, and I'll be done. Don't think I'm going to be able to finish this."

"There. It's over. They're clapping like it was mediocre at best. Take a bow. Oh, how nice. They're asking for a curtain call, probably just because I'm graduating. My chops are hamburger. Think I'll take some aspirin."

The next day, symphonic band rehearsal was the first class I had. My lips were extremely swollen and badly bruised. I showed the director, and he agreed I should lay off the rehearsal. And all I wanted to do was pick up my horn and be able to play.

I used to love playing the trombone. Now, I'm just obsessed about getting back the chops I used to have. Not much luck.

More frustration

Oh, well, if I go to graduate school, I'll audition for a teaching fellowship.That'll keep me going. My chops are no longer bruised, but I just hate practicing. Fiddle around with this mouthpiece placement, move it over here, more upper lip, more lower lip, I think I'll just cry." Sad thing is, I still, to this day, don't think anyone understood when I tried to explain what was going on with my chops. Obsess, obsess, obsess. "Try this mouthpiece, try that one. Why doesn't the Remington work any more?"

"Your tape was flawless. Congratulations." "Yeah, right," I'm thinking. So I'm in graduate school, teaching other students. Teaching what? Music? I can't play it any more. So I'll talk more. Tell them, "No, you play it. Try this in this measure. Breathe here, and watch your release at the end of this one." Analyze, analyze. OK. "That's great! Much better!" thinking why can't I do that any more?

"Oh, no! Brass recital every Wednesday, and I'm in a couple of weeks. Bombed the Whear. Great! Think I'll go flying."

Gave up

So, the trombone went into its case and stayed there for twenty some-odd years, and not a day going by without feeling the loss with guilt. And I was still having dreams about playing my horn...good dreams! Where it felt right, the music flowed, and I was happy again. "Do I dare try to play again?" I believe I can. All the bad feeling is gone. The good physiology of playing is in my subconscious somewhere. I'll buy a new horn. And nothing like a shiny new horn to motivate me. I miss playing so much!!

Starting over

"OK. Start over. Don't expect too much. Be patient." Hey, this is starting to feel pretty good."

This is starting to be fun again! Hey! It's coming back! It really is! Now, don't get your hopes up. Be careful. Know when to quit. That's better. OK!!"

What happened?

Well, after much analyzation, retrospect, and telling myself it's OK, I came to the conclusion that the biggest factor affecting my chops was that I had a lower wisdom tooth removed three days preceding that fateful day. It had to be sectioned (chiseled into pieces), and I believe some nerve damage was done. I thought I had developed an allergy to silver (which I had, but not like that). I had gained weight, and I even thought that my lips were thicker than before. I never went to a specialist to have it evaluated. If I had it to do all over again, I would have sought treatment. Good thing is that today, there are doctors who specialize in musicians' injuries, and much progress has been made in the knowledge of the physiology of brass playing. You may think, "Well, gee! I wouldn't be able to find my embouchure three days after having a wisdom tooth removed." But the swelling and numbness had subsided, and besides, I just loved to play.

Also, there were lots of life events going on back then. I didn't realize it, but I had allowed all of that to affect me, I mean, really affect me, and I do believe my chops suffered the manfestation thereof. Unfortunately, I gave up the fight and pursued other avenues of achievements. And I suffered a huge loss.

Back again!

I am very fortunate, but it's all coming back again. The feel, the sound, the technique...the good things that I used to be able to do on the trombone. Yes, I have about twenty five years of "warming up" to do, but it's coming back. I believe it all happened for several reasons, but the most important one...I learned so much about the pedagogy of practice and analyzation of the components of playing. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to relate as a teacher to players who had problems. Besides, it made me a better person. My chops have come full circle! Gee, it's good to be back in the fellowship of trombone brothers and sisters!

The Remington feels great, and I just absolutely love to play the trombone!

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Printed below is a comment received from one of our visitors.

Dear Sandy, I am a college student who at one time had dreams of becoming a professional musician. I knew I had not only the talent and skill to perform, but the passion as well. But, something happened. Something I think every musician should fear the most and not take for granted. I lost my abililty to play my instrument. I can remember the day just as if it were every day of my life for the past seven years. It was my junior year in high school. I woke up, went to school, got my instrument out and realized something was terribly wrong. In short, my chops were "gone". I had played in the high registers too much over a long period of time and it affected the muscles of my lips. It took a while to accept this, of course. Over the next seven years I would suffer the agonizing sense of defeat psychologically, sending my life deeper into an abyss of mental torment. I will tell you that additionally it has not helped me being bipolar. Nevertheless, I spent the next seven years going through in and out of college trying to figure out what I CAN do (I'm still in college). After such time, now at the age of 25, I have concluded that it is only music that I truly love and know it is still in me. I sold off my instrument some time ago, but now have ventured to give it "one more try". I have fancied myself with the French Horn, and just as you noted in your article about things "feeling the same" with your embouchure and all, I, too, am starting to feel that "sweet spot" once again (thank you GOD). I have a lot of foundation playing to do, and with the dear Lord's help, anticipate the music to come once again. I would like to also remark that even though I don't know what tomorrow will bring, I am certainly thankful for what today has given me---a sense of sanity. Thank you for your story. By the way, my original instrument before I dedided to play the French Horn was the Trombone.

Sometimes time off will cure embouchure injuries. Also, just knowing when to put the horn down helps. --editor.

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