I was 34 years old, but, unknown to me, an old fascination was calling to me from my early teen years, when I was in junior high school band. I remember the weekly lessons, the green "Breeze-Easy" and blue Rubank lesson books, and the sensuous beauty of a wooden Buffet clarinet another student (ironically, named Mark Boehm) played - a gift from his father. I hadn't succeeded with my plastic Bundy (with the closed thumb ring key with a small hole in the center) and dropped clarinet after two years. My mother returned the rental.
Loving Collector, Enthusiastic Amateur
In the flea market that day, I was about the same age as Julia Child when she discovered French cuisine. Is it the particular age (a little less than half-way through life), or is it that in our mid-thirties we settle down - into permanent relationships, into a certain level of employment status - and turn our gaze outward, absorbed once again by the joys the world has to offer? Whatever the cause, my reacquaintance with the clarinet quickly became my life's focus. I traded the "Emil Jardin" in for a lovely wooden "Leon Trotte" clarinet, running home after work each evening to play until bedtime. I lubricated the tenon corks with lip balm and played through as many of the Baermann studies as I could. I was in love with the instrument.
I purchased a Boosey-Hawkes instrument, a fortuitous choice for a second clarinet. I was fascinated by the differences between the narrow-bore French and the wide-bore English clarinet, and my appreciation of the sound and design of different clarinets was established. However, a few years later I decided to make the substantial investment of purchasing a new, "professional-quality" clarinet. A few weeks after I unpacked my Buffet R-13, I sold the Leon Trotte (and the Boosey-Hawkes). I had Maria Callas - why bother with Kirstin Flagstad?
The powerful, concentrated tones of the Buffet were a thrilling enhancement to my playing, but I missed the nickel-silver keywork and delightful eccentricities of my old instruments. In time, I put aside my self-imposed limitation, slowly discovering that I had overlooked a great part of the joy I took in the clarinet - the variables of design and scale, and, in particular, the profound craftsmanship and handmade quality of vintage instruments, even second-rate ones.
I am a collector and amateur. I am not a performance-quality musician, and (I have come to understand) I am incapable of the highly disciplined, even rigid, study that is the basis for later work and acceptable classical performance. I have an appreciation for the hours of technical work required of students and advanced performers alike. But my experience has been that there is room for all approaches to the clarinet, and that not playing is the only habit worthy of reproach.
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