The concert opens as any other would: Ms. Zawel, director of IHS Bands, standing in front of a darkened auditorium. There is a polite silence throughout the rows of Kulp’s red-plush chairs, one that should soon cede to riotous applause when the stage is flooded with light. But the lights never rise. The applause never comes. Instead, the friendly and, by now, long-familiar chime of Zoom signifies each newcomer’s arrival, as the time ticks closer to 7:00 PM. Ms. Zawel welcomes each one with a smile.
Some videos are black screens, but many are on, revealing students nestled in corners with headphones, teachers tuning in from their homes, and large families all aligned on a couch. Each of them have come to listen to a months-long project, masterminded by Ms. Zawel. Although she acknowledges what she’s organized “could never replicate or replace an in-person concert experience,” she found herself “getting pre-concert jitters just as I do for in-person concerts—the excitement of sharing music was still there, for sure!” But as the format morphed, so too did the typical wind band feel. Over the course of an hour or so, there was beatboxing, kalimba, an oboist singing with a Vocoder, and a flutist on the electric guitar. There was a dazzling variety of moods and genres, but all of it was based on the melody of a single Scottish folk song: Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair.
Originally inspired by Alfred Reed’s Symphonic Prelude, which is based on the same folk song, Ms. Zawel always wanted to use the piece as a vehicle to “teach about phrasing, texture, and lyrical playing.” But in one of IHS’s ubiquitous two-week lockdowns after a confirmed COVID case, she was forced to find ways to be productive virtually and to check all students’ understanding and participation. Thus was the first part of the project born: learning the melody by ear. Each player memorized the melody, just by listening to it, and recorded themselves playing it. At the concert, Magnolia Mead ‘21, a senior flutist, demonstrated the original melody live.
The other component of this first part was also there from the get-go: learning the context and comparing different versions and interpretations of the melody. Ms. Zawel presented Nina Simone’s elegant and mournful piano-flourished version next to a sparse arrangement by the Hi-Lo’s and an upbeat country one by the contemporary singer Rhiannon Giddens. After comparing and contrasting different versions, Ms. Zawel then asked each player to create their own. There were no limitations or guidelines on this second part, only that the final product had to be at least twice the length of the unadorned melody. In total, 140 separate versions were made.
For students, it was an unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome, assignment. Nyah Ernste ‘24, who plays flute in Concert Band, says, “It was not only an exciting separation from the learn and record cycle, but it also brought back a part of band that we have missed this year. Learning how your own part combines with the other sections is a normal step in learning band music. But this year, we haven’t been able to do that…because we can’t hear each other over Zoom.” For this project however, students “had to listen carefully to how different parts and harmonies worked together.”
Most of the projects were created and recorded through the Digital Audio Workstation (DAW) Soundtrap. Although both bands had been working with Soundtrap since early in the year, getting more familiar with the DAW was a major impetus for the projects. Both in preparation for the third part, where students would record their individual parts of Reed’s Symphonic Prelude, and for future recording projects. Although there was a significant learning curve, especially for students who had not previously composed, Wind Ensemble percussionist Malcolm Longaker ‘21 thinks Soundtrap is “a breeze to work on and record even if you have no experience. It lets you create projects with anyone else with an online account, so it’s really what has allowed us to feel connected as a band and create musical projects.” Max Rubenstein-Miller ‘21, who plays trumpet also in the Wind Ensemble, says, “Ms. Zawel has adapted to the virtual music-making environment in unparallelled ways, using the technology to everybody’s benefit rather than a hindrance.” Certainly, by the end, everyone’s facility with the program increased.
Connection was another impetus for the composition projects. Ms. Zawel says, “my students inspire me daily and I thought that giving everyone a chance to create something unique from the same material would help me to know them better.” It also definitely connected students, across both bands. Generally, Wind Ensemble and Concert Band work on separate repertoire, but are still linked by a strong sense of community. In the virtual environment, there was much more of a tangible divide, and when surveyed, an overwhelming number of “upperclasfolk suggested overlapping activities” between the two bands. Ms. Zawel says, “the band community is one rooted in cross-grade, cross-ensemble involvement and this was an opportunity to keep that going.”
Both seniors experienced in composition and freshmen new to the process were represented. Rubenstein-Miller describes his process in making a lush and polished brass quintet: “I played the original melody on trumpet, listened to it, and reflected on my instincts in that moment to figure out how I would harmonize that melody. After some thought, I realized that a brass ensemble would be best to embody the type of feeling I wanted to express through the traditional folk melody.” He recorded multiple tracks of trumpet, mellophone, trombone, and tuba on Logic Pro X, a more advanced DAW than Soundtrap.
But Ernste and Anna Fowler ‘24, both Concert Band flutists, used Soundtrap and collaborated over Zoom when making their ambient and soothing composition. Their first step was to catalogue all of the instruments available to them, which included not just their primary instruments, but also guitar and kalimba—untraditional band instruments. Many of the tracks were similarly atmospheric, but all with different tones. Some utilized rain sounds; others, like Artemis Inzinna’s ‘23, took advantage of the full range of the bass clarinet. The first project shared under “anonymous” began with the howl of the wind and a single explosive note, the first one of the original melody, trembling on Soundtrap’s electric guitar.
The rest of the projects were just as singular, and Ms. Zawel expressed that “the similarities…could be found in the bravery and experimentation demonstrated in the processes and products of the musicians.” When I asked those who presented their favorite part of the concert, without exception, everyone highlighted hearing another student’s project. Many, like Wind Ensemble trombonist Daniel Zawel ‘22, found that their horizons broadened. He says that although he was “not always a fan of this genre,” after listening, he revised his previous stance on electronic music.
Throughout the entire sharing experience, praise was immediate and overwhelming. Not a single project was not marveled at. Ms. Zawel noted that Zoom’s chat feature “was bursting with so much love and gratitude in real time. Often, we forget to congratulate and appreciate if a little time has gone by after a performance.” The immediacy of the virtual experience created a community in real time. And there was still love leftover for more projects: Ms. Zawel expressed a joyous surprise that everyone who left feedback wanted to hear more than just the 20 compositions shared.
But the chat fell silent in the third part, perhaps in reverence for the ghosts of in-person concerts past. If individuality was the theme of the second part, in the final section of the concert—the unveiling of Symphonic Prelude, which Ms. Zawel painstakingly stitched together in her own personal trial with Soundtrap—it was community. 140 players, each recording alone next to a computer somewhere, merged together, while photos of Ithaca’s snow-draped trees and slushy streets flickered across the screen. The photos may have been colorless, but the music was far from it. It murmured and soared and, if you closed your eyes, you could pretend, just for a moment, you were under Kulp’s hot lights, joining in the sound once again.