Horny on Main: The Wonder of Tubachristmas
A brassy underdog gets its moment in the spotlight
When roughly 300 tuba, sousaphone, and euphonium players gather in the Kennedy Center’s Concert Hall, they create a wall of sound so resonant it becomes tactile — especially when there’s no audience to absorb it. From my seat near the back, I watched the conductor flick his wrist, and a second later felt the music fully engulf my body. Harmonics rang in my ears, transmitting tiny waves of energy from the carpeted floor into the soles of my feet. Vibrations ran up from the arm rests; my elbows felt like tuning forks.
I was there to immerse myself in this sound, to plunge fully into the wacky joy of it. In less abstract terms: I slipped behind the scenes to observe an impromptu rehearsal before the Kennedy Center’s 46th annual Tubachristmas. Every December, Tubachristmas brings tuba, sousaphone, and euphonium players of all ages and experience levels together for a one-night-only mega-ensemble to celebrate celebrating the season — and a unique and underappreciated instrument.
Unlike most dress rehearsals, the Tubachristmas rehearsal didn’t focus on playing the evening’s carols perfectly. Rather, conductor Andrew Hitz focused on rallying a sense of team spirit, melding a motley crew of musicians into one cohesive group. The players ranged from elementary schoolers to professionals, and everyone in between — so many musicians that they filled every chair onstage and spilled into three levels of gallery seating. Siblings, parents, and fans clustered nearby, where I met Mala Persaud, a Tubachristmas veteran whose son was onstage warming up.
“So many parents don’t want to send their kids to be music majors because they’re afraid that they’re going to be starving artists,” said Persaud. She understands her son’s passion for music, though, and can see his motivation. Tubachristmas provides an opportunity to showcase years of practice. “Usually, in most bands, the tuba’s at the bottom playing oom-pah. Here, they get to play the melody.”
That recognition is the whole point of Tubachristmas.
For the general public, it’s still rare to hear the tuba shine. When we do hear about the tuba, it’s often used as a punchline: in 1983, the Washington Post’s profile of the International Tuba-Euphonium Conference spent the first six paragraphs comparing the instruments to “exotic plumbing fixtures.” Even Freaks and Geeks spent a few episodes on an arc that mocked tuba players as a plot device for spurring Seth Rogan’s character’s personal growth.
A few days after the performance, I caught up with Persaud’s son, John Farrington, to learn more about Tubachristmas impacts public perception of the tuba. Now in his first year at George Mason University, John is studying tuba performance — a decision that began by chance, when his middle school band director asked for a volunteer to play the tuba when no one else chose the instrument. But once he started learning to play the tuba, John quickly fell in love with it. “I love the richness of the tone of the tuba,” Farrington said. “With trumpets, you normally get the melodies, so you’re never that surprised to hear it. When a tuba happens to get the melody, it’s really, really powerful.”
Tubachristmas was founded to bring that power to the people. In 1974, a musician named Harvey Phillips organized the first Tubachristmas in memory of his teacher, William J. Bell, who he met while touring as a tuba player in a circus. Bell tutored Phillips at Julliard, and they spent decades working together to increase the number of pieces arranged for tuba.
When Phillips organized the first Tubachristmas, staff at Rockefeller Center thought they were being punked. Phillips proved he was serious by rattling off the unlisted phone numbers of musical luminaries including Leopold Stokowski, André Kostelanetz, and Leonard Bernstein. With this proof of their endorsements, the show was a go. Today, the Kennedy Center event is one of as many as 250 Tubachristmas events hosted annually around the world.
It’s not just an auditory experience, either. Each year, the Harvey Phillips Foundation provides funding for decorations, and it pays off. Red and green lights illuminated the Concert Hall’s massive organ, and light from the chandeliers glimmered on the polished gold instruments. The sousaphones are so massive that some players fitted a full-sized wreath into the instrument’s bell (the wide, mouth-like opening that projects sound). Others draped their tubas in flashing string lights or tinsel.
If the rehearsal demonstrated the unfettered power of the tuba, the full performance demonstrated its versatility and range. The concert spanned the tranquil notes of “Silent Night,” the sweep of “Carol of the Bells” and the bouncy rhythm of “Jingle Bells.” According to tradition, the audience sings and claps along, and the show is punctuated by occasional contributions from shrieking toddlers. Along the way, emcee Chris Quaid interjects with tuba-themed jokes and trivia, and introduces the players. This year, the “most experienced” player (code for oldest) was in his 80s, and three ten-year-old musicians tie for youngest tuba player. One — tiny compared to her tinsel-covered tuba — sat on the stage alongside three generations of tuba-playing family members.
“Tuba players and euphonium players are very largely misunderstood, because it’s a very, very difficult instrument.” Farrington later told me. “Tubachristmas does a great job of turning the tide.”
The tuba’s heavy valves and variety of pitches require both physical and mental agility. Players must not only master the instrument’s physicality, but also become skilled at transposing sheet music written for differently-pitched tubas. All of this drives home how impressive the solo was during a unique Tubachristmas favorite: “Santa Wants a Tuba for Christmas.” The musician’s fingers flew over trills and scales so skillfully, the audience broke into applause and cheers mid-song, unable to hold back their enthusiasm.
“That cured my seasonal depression,” one of my friends announced as we left.
For me, that triumphant moment captures everything that is wonderful about Tubachristmas. Not only hearing the music’s free spirit, but witnessing the close proximity between master musicians and the younger players they inspire. Tubachristmas is about reckless holiday cheer, surprise, and uninhibited delight. It’s about putting your pride aside and belting out a carol or two. But its deeper power comes from its original purpose: To create an annual moment for the music world’s underdogs to shine. No matter what you celebrate, that’s worth experiencing.
Later, as I’m heading home on the Metro, a flash of light caught my eye. It was one of the Tubachristmas players, shimmying through the turnstile with his tinsel-covered instrument. I pictured the surprised glances or excited conversations it might spark on the Metro — just another musician off to spread joy, one tuba at a time.
