My One Time Sitting Next to Murray Crewe

It was April 17, 2012. I was in my second year of being a grad student at Carnegie Mellon University. When I was just about to graduate, the trombone and tuba studios decided to hold a joint studio class in which each student would get an opportunity to sit within the section of the low brass members of the Pittsburgh Symphony. This would not an occurrence that happened the previous year so to my knowledge this was not a regular event for CMU students. I don’t remember the sizes of each studio, but each student, freshman and up, was given 10 minutes to play an excerpt with the PSO members.

One of the great opportunities as a student at CMU is the opportunity to study with many of the PSO musicians. Practically each instrument is taught by at least one member of the orchestra. In addition to private lessons, you may have brass literature class with another PSO member, and your chamber ensemble will be with yet another PSO member. Some semesters I was under the weekly guidance of three PSO brass players (talk about learning environment).

In the fall of 2011, my assigned trombone quartet worked with Murray Crewe. We all knew who he was (who didn’t in Pittsburgh music), but this was our weekly encounter with him. Sure we had heard stories about his humor, and we knew what kind of sound he could produce. But being a person who is soaking up his knowledge (and experience) with a piece of ensemble, you had to gravitate to what was being expressed through his words.

He loved music. He loved what music gave to society. He loved expressing what was on the page, and he certainly want to convey to his students to have that same desire.

Fast forward now to April 2012 in Kresge Theatre. Beforehand, the teachers told us we would be allowed to record our individual excerpts, but requested that we don’t publish or publicly post the recordings. As we all got started we began to realize as great as this was going to be for us students, it was going to be more of a lesson in watching a high-caliber section perform a marathon of mammoth-size excerpts for low brass. The Ride, Tchaikovsky, Bartok, Brahms, Hindemith, Bruckner, Mahler, Schumann – these and others were about to be performed.

The PSO members knew these excerpts. Not only had they played them, but they had most likely performed these excerpts together with each other. The first and second trombones switched in and out quite a bit since there were more tenor players in the studio. At the time, there were only two bass trombone players and three to four tuba players. So yes, here’s Murray – one after the other just playing the excerpts.

You can tell he is just having fun. He doesn’t care what is on the stand, he just loves what he is doing.

When my turn came to play with the section, I selected the two big section excerpts from Hindemith’s Symphonic Metamorphosis. For the Turandot movement, I played second, Peter Sullivan/Rebecca Cherian switched back and forth on first, while Murray and Craig Knox were on the bottom end. You are in a surreal moment sitting dead center amongst these musicians – you are only praying that you don’t screw up. After a second run of the Turandot at a slower tempo, we then moved to the Finale portion with me on first, Becky on second, and Murray/Craig on the low end. This time I was “leading” the section, but really – I was along for the ride.

Minus one cracked note here and there, I held my own (for the most part). I felt like played well, and that I blended well with this well-versed section. Later that night, I remember watching the video of my excerpt and was still a little on cloud nine that it happened. I remember thinking “Man this actually sounds good.”

Upon hearing about Murray’s death this past weekend, many memories came back about that day and my weekly quartet sessions with. Even though I was a tenor player at CMU, I wish I could have gotten some individual bass lessons with him, especially now that I play more bass. Just to gain an inkling more of his knowledge. And to hear that laugh again. And to hear one more story. Though it can’t happen no more, I hold to the memories and to that video from 2012.

As I watched the video again today, I began to listen more carefully thinking, “I can hardly hear myself!” It’s not that I am playing timid. It’s just that his sound and the others were so much bigger! I remember that sitting with them that my natural thought was “I think I’m hanging with these guys.” But the fact in listening to this video (in front of the bells) gives you a completely different perspective. I wasn’t close to hanging with them. Who could argue with me?

They were a section that had played together for so long that it would have been difficult for anybody to fit in with them – let alone with Hindemith.

But that’s what makes them the professionals.

That moment certainly taught me lessons. It showed where I needed to be in order to go professional. Murray’s sound will be ingrained in the memory of countless students, concert-goers, and others. His sound was so direct – so big – and so fitting wherever he was needed to play.

I am just thankful for that one time I got to hear Murray’s sound from the other side of the bell.