Tuba players and the people who love them -- we have our reasons. And we don't need to explain them to anyone. But if we must, we can argue that the tuba's proletarian duty in any ensemble -- to simultaneously anchor and propel a piece of music -- is essential, yet surpassed by the pure gorgeousness of the instrument's primal sound. Or, we can just point out, tubas are hella fun.
That was obviously the case on Saturday afternoon at the Lyric Theatre downtown, where all variations of the horn crammed the stage and a few hundred people filled the hall for the sometimes annual seasonal ritual known as TubaChristmas.
I've seen TubaChristmases in other cities. The event was started by some important, famous tuba instructor back in 1974 and has now become a world-wide thing. Basically, any tuba player who wants to play can show up; they all practice for a little while and then put on a little concert of holiday standards. A couple of weeks ago the Star reported that this year's TubaChristmas was in danger for lack of volunteers, but was rescued by Joe Parisi, the associate director of bands at the UMKC Conservatory of Music.
Parisi was an affable conductor on Saturday, leading his brass through
the first verses of familiar songs and then turning around to bring
in the audience for singalongs. Personally, I could have done without
people singing in the audience, which for me detracted from the beauty
of the tubas. But I'm a Grinch like that.
Here are a few more pictures. My apologies to the guy who was Master of Ceremonies -- I got there just as the show was beginning, and lost him afterwards, so I never got his name. But I liked what he said just before "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem," asking us all to think about peace in the Middle East. That was about as heavy as it got; mostly, it was an hour of simple joy, where nobody minded squirmy kids or people sitting nearby who couldn't quite carry a tune.
I especially liked these two -- some little tuba-playin' kid, next to some lady. I have no idea whether they're related.
These three were definitely related -- they stood up when the afternoon's emcee asked if there were any families on stage.
My favorites were these two: the old man in his elfin hat, and the young dude next to him.
The
hour-long program ended with an extended version of "Jingle Bells,"
with some kids pulled up from the audience to play the bells. Someone caught it on YouTube:
Then it
was over, and random tuba players, most of them complete strangers,
from all over town packed up their horns (cases and coats were
scattered in the seat sections to the far right and left of the stage)
and headed home. Out in the parking lot, I noticed an unusual thing on
a cold, gray, snow-spitting Saturday in Kansas City: Everyone was
grinning. -- C.J. Janovy
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