 when students try to apply this concept in situations where it is not appropriate, such as in solo playing or even in soloistic passages in ensembles. Think about most melodies you know. The highest notes tend to be the climactic ones, so the best phrasing occurs when the lower notes at the beginning of the phrase are softer, then crescendo to the higher notes, and diminuendo again as the phrase concludes or resolves. Sometimes a slight increase in tempo is appropriate when moving higher, as well, and then a corresponding slight decrease in tempo to bring the phrase into balance metrically. While this might sound like common sense, low brass students that have had the Pyramid of Sound preached to them their entire musical lives will sometimes instinctively soften on the highest notes and then get louder on the lowest notes, even when good phrasing would dictate the opposite. Because of their supporting roles in most ensemble situations, low brass students just beginning applied study are often inexperienced at playing and interpreting melodies and simply bring the approach they have used in their bands to solo literature, phrasing studies, etc. The resulting interpretations are not just strange—they are exactly backwards!
Happily, through instruction, demonstration, and patient reassurance that it really is okay to forgo the Pyramid of Sound in the right situations, most students quickly figure out a better approach to shaping melodies. I will usually illustrate this to them by drawing the above Pyramid diagram and labeling it “for ensemble playing,” and then place another, much simpler diagram alongside it, labeled “for solo playing.” That diagram looks something like this. It is simple, but effective.
Many great bands and their directors are devotees of the Pyramid of Sound, and when rightly applied this approach leads to warm, beautiful, yet clear sounds. But accompanying material is one thing; melodic and soloistic lines are another. In those cases, the Pyramid must be abandoned in favor of the Line.
As a high school and undergraduate student, I made it a particular goal to “pass off” as many studies and etudes as possible in my trombone and euphonium lessons. I prepared as much material as I could each week, and took great delight in seeing my teachers write a new “X” or check mark next to a number. I even set a personal goal of working through all 120 Bordogni/Rochut etudes before finishing my bachelor’s degree, and did so, though I sometimes wondered if my teacher allowed me to sacrifice a bit of accuracy in the interest of covering a greater breadth of material.
When I was auditioning for graduate programs, I was able to observe the man who would be my next trombone teacher working with a student or two, and noticed that he was the kind of person who absolutely would not, if you will pardon the pun, “let things slide.” In time, I found him to be quite willing to spend an entire lesson on a single phrase or even a few notes. Despite my love for checkmarks, I knew this to be the kind of teacher that I needed at the time, and was glad when I was offered a teaching assistantship at that school. I later worked with the tuba-euphonium teacher there, as well, and found him to be somewhere between the two extremes represented by my other teachers. This is more or less where I have landed. My students typically move through instructional repertoire more slowly with me than they might have with my undergraduate teacher, but more quickly than they would have than my graduate trombone teacher. In fact, students who have had lessons with me and with any of my teachers have remarked that I remind them of the one they know. To hear from others that I am an average of my influences as a teacher is not surprising; I hope it means I am doing something right.
My thinking about this today was prompted by a student who asked a thoughtful question during his lesson yesterday. While he was appropriately respectful in his way of asking, he was bothered by the fact that we did not pass off material more quickly in our lessons, and wonde