Survived!

Made it through my second recital ever. Go me!

Didn't screw up my shifts. Didn't let the bow skip. Didn't let the rhythm go ragged. Held a half note a wee bit too long but adjusted. The second repetition was better. I don't think I really lifted the bow as had been my bad habit before lessons either, although it wasn't as 'in the string' as I would have liked. All the trio and ensemble stuff was great, too. I wasn't a mess leading up to it, but the nerves did kick in after we'd set up and I encountered the 'will it never be day?!' mood that develops when you're ready and it's not time to start yet. Apparently we have another recital in June, and I'm actually looking forward to that.

Liam fell asleep ten minutes into the programme. He got to hear the littlest girls do their pieces, but fell asleep either during mine or directly afterwards. He was very impressed with the butterfly someone had painted on the youngest girl's face in full colour, complete with sparkly highlights.

Now it's on to making shepherd's pie (well, more correctly, cottage pie) for supper, and casting on HRH's scarf, as we nipped out to Ariadne Knits before lunch to pick up the yarn. Liam was very impressed with the yarn store, although was firmly convinced that there ought to have been a cat.

Recital Countdown

In the space of thirteen hours I have had two cello lessons, one private on Friday night and one group dress rehearsal this morning at nine. The world is very clear, bright, and cold today, but there's not much wind and so it's lovely. The snow removal crews came along and took away the piles of snow in the street, and driving was actually a pleasure this morning as compared to the hell it has been for the past two days. (Way, way too much time spent in cars in traffic Thursday and Friday. Noting makes me crazier than leaving twice the amount of time it usually takes to get somewhere to account for weather and traffic, and still arriving late.)

Anywhat. Happy thoughts. Cello!

I lugged the 7/8 to my lesson last night along with my own cello, and my teacher played them for me so I could hear them. There's no contest, no comparison. My full size sounds so much better: It's clearer, it rings, there's precision and just plain beautiful sound. The 7/8 was stuffy and dull. This just isn't the one. I was somewhat worried about this. It's going to take a lot to find a 7/8 that has the kind of sound my current instrument does. Anyway, it's not pressing; it can go back to the luthier and I can forget about it until they get another one.

(Also noted when my teacher switched between the 7/8 and my current cello: My cello is HUGE! Yes, yes, I knew this, but I'm usually sitting behind it and I'm used to it. Seeing it in someone' else's hands was an eye-opener.)

So yes, last night's lesson was great. I'm really happy with how my sound is developing after only two months of lessons. I can hear my intonation has improved, and the improvement in sound production that comes from better bow handling and control, too. There's a lot of confidence being developed as well, which doesn't hurt. I came home feeling terrific, which was very welcome after the day I'd had. (An hour on a bus to cover what usually takes fifteen minutes. Yeah. And then late to pick up the boy, late to make dinner, late out the door to the lesson thanks to the original lateitude plus traffic. It was very, very bad. Especially after the previous day's trip to the doctor for the boy's checkup, which took three times as long as it should have to get there and even longer to get home again.)

This morning the light was incredible, what with the sky being clear and so much snow off which for the sun to reflect. And although I didn't sleep very deeply or steadily I woke up in a good mood thanks to the lesson, and looking forward to the morning group lesson. I love the group lessons to begin with, but I'm really enjoying the program we're doing for tomorrow's concert. It's fun to play with the others, and they're a terrific set of people. Some are older than I am, some are around my age, and others are in their teens. We have the two darling little girls, too, who are so serious when they play; they concentrate so hard and yet they stay relaxed. I adore watching them. My teacher played her piece at our insistence, too (if we had to play our solos and duets, then she had to as well!) and we loved it. It's Fauré's "Elegie", and believe it or not I've never been in the room when an accomplished cellist has played something passionate like that. It was incredibly moving.

Afterwards we had our coffee and nibbly things and the kids played Christmas carols on the piano for fun, and it was just so lovely. Having a small group with a defined coach is so much easier than a small group trying to self-direct. And we all support one another and know exactly what everyone's going through or trying to work past.

Something I really want to work on in the new year is advancing my musical interpretation and expression. It feels odd to have been playing the cello for fifteen years, yet be so behind on, well, sounding good (in a different way from being technically correct). Even when I tell myself that I haven't had a lesson in ten years, my brain seems to think that because I've been playing in the meantime I should sound a heck of a lot better than I do. Today the tiniest girl, who is sitting in front of me for the concert, kept turning her head and watching me with wide eyes when I played the "Adeste Fideles" trio, which was nice. Being looked up to soothes both the logical and illogical parts of my brain.

I am looking forward to the recital. I'm still marvelling at the fact. I'm slightly concerned about the boy, who has been off the past couple of days and who will be attending the concert instead of napping, but que sera sera. And it will all be over too quickly.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

A Day Of Squee

My Ravelry invitation just arrived! Only four days after they said it would!

This, of course, is excellent news, but also poorly timed, because I have work to do. I wanted to get it done today, too. Oh well, it's due next Wednesday; if I don't finish it today I can at least get the rough draft done and do the polish on Monday, and still get it in ahead of deadline. Muah-hah.

This is also the day when I get to go take a look at the new 7/8 cello that's arrived chez my luthier. And I get a bonus extra hour of work before I do, because HRH wants me to meet him at his office after work in order for him to drive me over there instead of me doing the public transit thing to his parking lot and absconding with the car to get there myself. Apparently even more people have forgotten how to drive because oh noes, more snow has felled!!1! So I cheerfully accept both the extra hour of work and the chauffeur.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
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~

Cello Squee!

Guess where I'm going next Friday afternoon? Yes indeed, to the luthier in order to try out a new 7/8 cello!

It's nice to be excited about new celloness again instead of mopey about how the whole Mystery Cello thing turned out. But that's still not off the list entirely, it's just delayed for a few years. (A few meaning something like a decade or so. Maybe I'll look forward to it as a fiftieth birthday present to myself.)

My cello fund has been nibbled at by bill- and gas- and grocery-mice, but I can put a down payment of three-quarters on this cello if it's the right one (and if they let me instead of buying it outright), and chances are very likely that by the end of the year I'll have the remaining money necessary to pay it off in entirety. If not by then, certainly by the end of January. Then I can turn to selling my current cello and recoup hopefully at least half of the cost of the new one, if not more.

I'm not looking at buying a cello for the sake of buying a cello. I'm waiting for the right one. I've turned down two, after all (and had one bought out from under me, but let's not go there). It just feels good to be doing something about it again.

And maybe this time I'll remember to buy rosin while I'm there, damn it.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Orchestra Video

I debated about posting this, but why not.

Someone made a video recording of about half of the recent LCO fall concert. It's broken into approximately eight-minute long sections, so you can see the first and second part of the three-movement Mozart Divertimento (the second part covers the second and third movements), the lovely Adagio for Clarinet and Strings (the so-called "Wagner adagio", which has some nice close-ups of Martine's hands for you clarinet players out there), and the Haydn Symphony 104 in D major (first part, second part, third part, and fourth part). I wish I could say each part actually corresponds to a movement, but they don't. The first part is most of the first movement, the second part is the end of the first and most of the second, the third is the rest of the second and the full minuet/trio, and the fourth is the fourth movement in its entirety.

Why did I consider not posting this? Well, mainly due to the fact that the sound is awful. It's very flat and quite distorted. (Although I recognise that not all the distortion is due to the recording. Ahem.) The balance is completely off, and things are very muddy. Hand-held video cameras just aren't designed to record such a wide range of sound level, especially from that distance in a very echoey venue. And as such, it isn't particularly complimentary. But it's an idea of what went on. Also, it's fun to see what the audience members are doing while we play. (I was amused by the people nodding and tapping their programmes during the minuet, and by the kids.)

And yes, I am cleverly hidden by my teacher's scroll most of the time through the Mozart and the Adagio! Although the videographer seems to have moved forward for the first two-thirds of the symphony and therefore there is a better view of me from a three-quarter back angle in those recordings. (And thus my pathological avoidance of vibrato has been preserved for prosperity. I'm working on that now in my lessons.) Also, good gods, does my left hand always look that spidery?

This is the first half of the programme. I wonder if the videographer recorded the last half, and if it will be posted.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Resigned

I've just written, translated, and sent off the regretful decline of the reconstruction quote for the Mystery Cello. I've been putting it off because I haven't wanted to formally call an end (albeit temporary) to the dream. But it's been a month (not that I intended to let it languish that long in my inbox, dear god, where did November go? scratch that, where did 2008 go?) and it's irresponsible to let the affair drag on any longer.

So I wrote a thank you and and an explanation of why we had to wait, and reinitialized my search for a 7/8. I should put my 4/4 up for sale as well to free up more money, but I'm enjoying the sound it makes in my lessons and I'm clingy when it comes to things like big resonant instruments that have been my companion for fifteen years. My teacher has assured me that if it sells before I've found a new one I can use the cello she still has from before she bought the beautiful one she uses now, which is lovely and mind-boggling but somehow I doubt I'll be caught without one. I see the same celli up for sale online all the time. I also have no idea what to ask price-wise for the one I've got. I'll talk to the luthier when I'm next in. I just wish I didn't feel like I'd killed something heartlessly.

Anyway, I am consoling myself with, and actually beginning to revive my interest in, trying 7/8s again. In the meantime my teacher has somehow suckered me into playing a solo at the Christmas recital in three weeks. I suspect I agreed because she proposed it so nicely (in the "possessing, marked by, or demanding great or excessive precision and delicacy" definition) and didn't make me feel like I was being railroaded into it. What I wanted to ask, but didn't because I am shy and despite the fact I've played with her for seven years I've only been her student for a month, was who else was soloing and what were they playing. Because I'm doing a Bach minuet, and part of me is relieved because I played these things thirteen years ago, and another part is mildly squirmy because they're in the Suzuki level 2 book, for heaven's sake. I was playing sonatas before I stopped lessons before. Mind you I've lost a hell of a lot of decent sound production and technique since then, so these are reacquainting me with the basics, but still. Not that the people in the senior's residence will care. They will be too busy being charmed by the six year old playing Suzuki book 1 pieces on her tiny cello .

Speaking of the six year old, my teacher told me yesterday that her next-door neighbour has a four year old who is obsessed with music and wants lessons. Generally the idea about children and lessons is not to bother until they can read (something about their ability to organize the info they take in, and I suspect so as not to utterly crush the joy they have in spontaneous music) but she knows that Sparky is also excited about the idea of music lessons, so he can play the cello like Mama does. So she has proposed that the two boys come to the group lesson on Sunday to see what it's like. Our group lesson is divided into two halves, the younger students for the first hour, then a short social thing, and then the adults have an hour of group lesson. The boys would observe the younger group lesson, and if they are still as excited about things she'd think about maybe having a special series for them to learn about rhythm and other pre-formal lesson skills. She mentioned that the McGill Conservatory has a Very Little Musicians program that might do as well.

I told Liam about this Very Special Invitation last night and he was very excited. His first question was, of course, "What's the little boy's name?" "I didn't ask," I said. "I forgot that it would be important to you. I'll ask when I see my teacher tomorrow at dress rehearsal." So he went around for the rest of the evening telling his father and the cats that he and 'the little boy' would be watching a cello lesson. We'll have to talk about proper etiquette and such tomorrow, both for the concert and the lesson the next day. The tentative plan for Sunday is to explain why he needs a slightly early nap and for HRH and I to bring him to the young group lesson, after which the boys can take off to the Thomas layout bookstore while I have my adult group lesson. If he's unbearable after having attended the concert Saturday night we can call it off, and there's always the option of HRH whisking him away from the lesson if he can't sit quietly.

I looked at the calendar yesterday and realised that there was a Wednesday rehearsal, my lesson on Thursday, a dress rehearsal tonight, the concert on Saturday, and the group lesson on Sunday. Good grief. I'm also mildly freaked out about the amount of work that has to happen between now and Wednesday, because I'm teaching a real-live university class on Monday morning (subject: Neo-paganism, and I have an eight-page lecture outline and the dreadful feeling that I'm going to demonstrate an Epic Fail by somehow being unprepared... I always feel like there's no good way to make the info flow logically) and have a coffee/lunch date on Tuesday and an assignment due for the evaluations Wednesday which is only about 30K words but revolves around examples drawn from Biblical stories and quotations so I'm going to be flipping through a Bible as I do it, which will slow things down.

Back to the cello stuff. I'm liking the sound that I'm (sometimes) producing in my lessons. It's a bit of a juggling act because I have to remember things about my bow hand, my right elbow, my shoulders, the left wrist and elbow that we've been working on, and then all the usual technical music stuff too. But there was a point in yesterday's lesson where I sounded good, and where I could hear and feel the vibration of the bow across the string in all the right ways. It feels sometimes like I'm not grasping very basic things, but things are improving in general at orchestra thanks to the new awareness I have of my body and how it moves, so there's hope.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Friday!

Not that my weeks are such that Fridays are any better or worse than the other days, but old habits die hard.

Cello lesson went well. I'm definitely getting a handle on the bow hold, and on how the weight of the bow arm evolves as the bow is drawn across the string in order to maintain an even sound with the same power at the tip as at the frog. Now we're finessing the elbow leading thing, and left-hand finger movement within the same position as well as properly shifting from first (and second and third and fourth) to fifth. (Because of the body of the cello being in the way, you see. Here is a classic example of How Things Will Be Easier With A 7/8.) And either my teacher is being extremely enthusiastic in order to be encouraging and supportive, or I'm genuinely making progress. I'll assume the latter and be happy, as there have only been three lessons so far.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Ups and Downs

I've dropped the boy off, gone to the bank (as usual, misjudging the amount I needed to withdraw so I have to go back again), done groceries, picked up ribbon, picked up dark transfer paper for HRH's t-shirt, had brunch, and have just returned from a drive to Ahuntsic. That was certainly an adventure. Why GoogleMaps didn't just tell me to go up the 15 to Henri-Bourassa, the street I needed to be on, I don ot know. Instead I went all over the place in crazy circles and turns to get to L'Acadie. (Turns out there's an exit for L'Acadie on the 15 too. Good grief.) Also, the Met is one of my least favourite highways to travel.

Anyway, in Ahuntsic I viewed and purchased a lovely light hard cello case. It is brown! With a grey interior! And it has backpack straps and good handles and a huge pocket for sheet music! I'm thrilled. It's only about eight pounds, and since other hard cases boast about being light at 12 or 13 lbs, I'm feeling pretty smug. Don't know the maker; there's no identifying tag. The one drawback is that it doesn't fit in the trunk. But it does fit across the back seat if I raise the armrests on the boy's booster seat, so huzzah!

Yes, I'm pretty set case-wise forever now. Unless something happens to this hard case like happened to my first one, namely something punching a hole in the bottom while it was being shipped by train to Toronto.

So. On top of all the racing around and emotional stuff going on today, I'm having what I used to call a flopsy day, which I now understand is a bad fibro day: muscles lacking strength to handle fine motor stuff and even some of the mid-range motor stuff. I can't speak French to save my life today; my tongue and my lips won't form the proper shapes required. I can't hold a pencil or write properly, either. I'm mildly concerned about my lesson, but I'll let my teacher know the situation. Looking back I see that this began yesterday, which partially explains the awful, awful showing I made of a stupidly easy passage in a Brahms Hungarian dance last night (when, naturally, the celli were playing alone to work the passage). On the plus side, my bow hold was more like the new one and less like the old one, and evidently I was bowing in some sort of proper form because the large muscles on the right side of my back were sore when I got home (the soreness was not the good part, the good part was that to get them sore I had been using them, which I was supposed to be doing).

Food now, then packing for the lesson, then resting a bit, then to the lesson I go. I'm worried about getting from the lesson, which ends at five in Pointe-Claire, to the caregiver's, which is in Montreal West. Traffic is going to be awful. If this doesn't work I'll need to find another time slot, and finding this one was hard enough what with having the car and no small person to care for only once a week.

Right. Let's get on that, then.

Seeking Silver Linings

Okay. Have somewhat recovered from the Great Cello Disappointment of '08, and am ready to move on.

It was the size of the number that was throwing me. Divided by two it was easier to wrap my mind around, but still beyond what we'd originally thought and definitely beyond my budget. And I can't ask my cousin to pay that much either; he's got a spouse and a child just a few months younger than Liam, plus a mortgage.

So I think we'll just put it back in a closet until such time as we can afford it. It was in a closet for three years; another few won't make a difference. When I am Wealthy from Selling Many Books and Reaping Wild Royalties I'll think about it again. Or if we win the lottery. They're equally possible at this point.

In the meantime there are other things to save up for, like a down payment for a house. And again, it's not like I have no instrument at all; I'm not in a situation where I absolutely have to find one as soon as possible. And if size becomes an increasingly sensitive issue for my technique, the Eastman 7/8 is muchly affordable. I suspect my luthier will keep ordering them in until I find one that I am quite comfortable with, and we can then finesse it until it's perfect. My teacher has already recommended that I use a smaller instrument for improved handling and intonation -- before she was my teacher, of course, but last lesson she did say that my regular hand position was necessarily exaggerated because the cello was so large and was probably one of the reasons my intonation is wibbly. This means I get to go back to idly trying 7/8s while I sock money away. Not a bad deal at all. (One thing this experience has given me is a better perspective on the idea of buying something equivalent in quality to what I have. A lateral move that helps improve my handling of the instrument is fine, especially if it saves money like buying the Eastman would. One of the things that I was stumbling over with the Eastman celli was their affordablility; I had a bigger budget, and it's not like I had to spend the extra money, but if it was there maybe I could have found something better. Now that we're looking at saving money, things are different. Funny how a single experience can change your point of view just by giving it context.)

In other cello-related news, last night I did indeed buy that soft case I found listed on Kijiji. It was a case of (no pun intended) buying this one for $45, or taking my current case into a tailor shop to have them set a protective flap of something soft to lie under the zipper to protect what's beneath it (there's an actual term for that but I can't remember it), in this instance the cello (because remember, zipper scratching cello = bad, bad, bad) which would probably cost around forty dollars anyhow. It isn't exactly the model I used this summer with the trial 7/8 it's the next model down: more basic, less luxurious. This soft case still has three times the padding of my original gig bag and has a carrying handle parallel to the length of the case so I can carry it beside me, as opposed to the perpendicular handles the had me carrying the original gig bag upright with the neck of the cello leaning against my shoulder instead. It has backpack straps too, although I think I'll put my original straps on the new case because they're wider and have the rubber grip pads on them so they won't slip. I'm very happy with it. My cello fits very snugly in it, so the case doesn't slide around it like the original gig bag does, which means I have better control over the cello as I carry it. The one drawback I've found is that the pocket for sheet music is sized for 8 x 10 inch folders, whereas my music folder is 11 x 14. It also lacks a second small pocket on the back of the neck which is where I put my leather endpin strap in my original case, which isn't a huge deal. It's a fully acceptable sacrifice for the padding and protection! It keeps its shape when it's empty. That's how much padding it has.

I am also trying to coordinate with the seller of the hard case to take a look at it. It's the same hard case our substitute principal at the Canada Day concert had, one that I don't see listed for sale often. The hard case was going to be a necessity for the Mystery Cello, but it's obviously not as crucial any more. Still, it's a steal of a deal, and worth checking out, as I'll need a new hard case at some point. Fortunately she's open to the idea of meeting me on her lunch hour on Thursday; I'll be needing the car as she's off in Ahuntsic. I have to bring my cello, you see, to make sure it fits, and the idea of going home via public transport with two cases is frightful. Also, it would take most of my day and I have work to do.

Speaking of work, off I go to download another manuscript evaluation. And in other news, tonight is our first parent-teacher interview with the boy's educators. I'm going to forget that if I don't set an alarm to tell me when to stop working and leave in time to meet HRH at work via public transport.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Numb

I had a wonderful all-day spiritual retreat. Great rituals, excellent workshops and discussions, awesome food, terrific company!

Then I came home and checked my e-mail -- not only am I negotiating to buy someone's semi-soft case but I also have a lead on a hard case! -- and discovered that the luthier had finally e-mailed me a quote for the repair of the mystery cello.

It will cost far beyond what I was originally quoted. Even half of it is far more than I can afford, more than I have put aside. Even if I could somehow magically conjure a high-paying job for the next month or so, I couldn't make up the missing amount.

It looks like this isn't going to happen after all.

I'm numb.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Life Is Good

Today is a beautiful, sunny, crisp fall day, and I had my first private cello lesson in ten years.

We addressed lots of things, which didn't feel overwhelming at the time but as I'm processing it I'm thinking that wow, yes, it was a lot. Ringing tones, intonation and tonalization, bow grip, leading with the elbow (which is completely at odds with how I was originally taught, which was to lead from the wrist, but I can see how leading with the elbow opens the body up and can produce a more beautiful and precise sound, and she says she was first taught the wrist way as well so at least I'm in good company), exercises for the bow grip and how it's supposed to pivot around the thumb as the bow moves from frog to tip and back, shifting exercises from first to second position... yes, it's a lot. But these things all came up as we worked through a Schumann chorale piece, playing slow, long notes to really hear what was happening. I spent a lot of the lesson with my eyes closed or staring off at nothing while I tried to listen to the sound I was making and feel the way my hands and arms had begin repositioned so that I could do it again on my own. I felt muscles in my right arm that I didn't know were used while bowing. I just hope I can remember how it feels.

She asked about what books and exercises I had, what I'd played before, and what I was interested in playing. I didn't think at first to list the things I wanted to work on, but I didn't need to because most of them came up in the course of the lesson! Ultimately what I'm looking for is how to better create a beautiful sound, something large and rich and, well, beautiful. So we're going to go back to some of my first pieces and work on those, focusing on intonation and lovely sound, and start looking at the Rick Mooney books I bought this summer to help shifting and position work.

I am so happy to be doing something about this. And it's affordable, and enjoyable, and good for me.

I realized at the end of the lesson that I'd spent an awful lot of the last fourteen years trying not to make a big sound, thanks to the scarring experience of having seniors banging on my floors and ceilings when I tried to practise at the very beginning. The Resident Fan Club will be happy to know that from now on I am not allowed to use a practise mute, nor pull the power I'm trying to channel through the bow. My teacher's main room is tiled with lovely earth-toned ceramic tile and has a grand piano in it, so the sound echoes beautifully and it's really easy to hear sympathetic strings vibrating when you play a ringing tone.

In other cello-related news, I have a lead on a semi-soft cello case that is exactly the one I loved so much that came with the Eastman 7/8 I tried this summer! The person selling it on Kijiji is being slow about returning my e-mails though, and I don't want to lose this the way I've lost the last six tries to buy a secondhand iBook. I'm now waiting to hear when she can meet me so I can see/buy it. And last night's orchestra rehearsal was very good too; we're sounding a lot more precise and there are actual dynamics happening. We spend the first ten minutes doing exercises with a scale related to a piece we're working on, using different bow techniques and strokes and so forth. The guest conductor is tailoring these exercises to something we'll encounter in the music we're working on that night. Very clever; keeps it all fresh in the mind. And as for the music, the Wagner's off the programme and a Vivaldi concerto grosso is on.

Of course the postperson came while I was gone, so I missed a package. But there were cheques for work done waiting for me when I got home! I also did some banking, stopped by the library to pick up a reserve and found two other new acquisitions that I wanted to read as well, I put gas in the car, and did a small grocery pickup. My cello lessons are right by Fairview, and as I pulled away from my teacher's house I thought, Is there anything I need at Fairview? Nah, and kept going... only to realize on the highway halfway home that yes, I had indeed needed to pick up something very specific at Fairview, and that I was an idiot because I even had it written on a list of things to do... that was safely inside my pocket where I couldn't see it. Argh. Looks like I'm going to need an agenda again, something more portable than my lovely but big Daytimer binder I used to use when I was working outside the home. Maybe I'll treat myself to a trip to the office supply shop on the way to collect the boy, to see what they have.

In the meantime, I am brining chicken. I am tempted to get some Brie and mushrooms so I can make those delicious chicken pastry things again, but HRH is leaving early tonight so I don't think we'll have time for that. The chicken will be just as lovely on its own.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

First Lesson In Ten Years

On Sunday after lunch I headed out for a baby shower forty-five minutes away, which was lovely, but which I had to leave early because I had my first cello lesson with my new teacher to attend. I wore my funky red shoes for confidence at the lesson, and a pair of new pants I'd just hemmed. I mistimed the travel (stupid bridge work one way but not the other) and halfway there I realized that I'd be half an hour early if I went straight to the lesson, so I stopped at the needlework shop to buy the needles I needed for my next knitting project. (Note: 'Next' implies I've ever finished one. I have failed miserably at every knitting project I've ever tried. But I have begun a new one [armwarmers for me] and have decided to heroically attempt a hat for the newly hairless Mousme.) I went from the needlework shop to my lesson and was ten minutes early anyway. Sigh. I made a critical decision and unpicked the new hems on my pants with my Swiss army knife. When someone else showed up for the group lesson I unloaded the cello and walked into my teacher's house behind her.

It was odd: I was both nervous and not about this lesson. My first lesson with the new teacher was supposed to be a private one last Thursday, but last week was a disaster of sick people and forcing four days of work into the only two I ended up having free to work, so it didn't happen. Instead, the once-a-month group lesson ended up being my first. I am, as I repeatedly point out yet people seem to disbelieve because I do an impressive job pretending otherwise, extremely shy, so walking into an established social group of ten people was daunting. What's the etiquette? Where do I put my stuff? Did I take someone's parking spot? Am I sitting in someone's customary seat? At the same time, I knew my teacher and one other student, having played with them in the orchestra for seven and three years respectively, so I had something of a lifeline. (The other student and fellow orchestra member was pretty new as well, as her other teacher had only recently stopped teaching; I don't know if she'd done a group lesson yet or not. I believe she had, but it might have been only one.) The little coffee break between the youngest cellists' lesson and the group lesson was the most awkward, so awkward for me that I took a cup of coffee to have something to do with my hands. (I am not a coffee drinker; it usually doesn't agree with me. However, it was really, really good coffee, which was nice.) Eventually we settled and our teacher put us in various places around the room, we tuned, and started playing.

This is the point where I actually relaxed. I know, I know; normally I'd be tense about playing in a small group with people I don't know. But somewhere a couple of minutes in, I realised that I didn't suck. I am used to expecting to be/actually being of a lower technical proficiency than others. Here I was at par with, or even more confident than, others in the group. The beginning was rocky because I was having trouble hearing my intonation, but then something clicked and then it was all okay. There was the disaster of misplacing my hand badly when I had to go really high up while sight-reading an arrangement of Satie's 'Gymnopedie', but hey, sight-reading for fun; no harm, no foul. (Lovely, lovely pieces in that Cellobrations collection for cello quartet, I hope we play lots of them in the future.) I enjoyed it all so much that I played one of the new pieces I was given at the lesson when I got home while the boy was in the bath ( "Is Mama playing her cello for me? While I'm in the bath?" followed by appreciative applause when I'd done), and after I'd put him to bed I sat down for another hour and really worked on bowings and phrasing for 'Itsumo Nando Demo,' the song Sandman7 and I are working on. It took me the whole hour to play bits with different bowings, make a decision one way or the other, and put slurs and bowings in for the entire piece to get it to where I was happy with the phrasing. Next comes recording it while I play it in this version and listening to it to see if it actually works from an audience POV.

Also, my teacher showed us the most adorable Twinkle bow, a fully functional miniature bow used to teach children how to hold it correctly and to use the proper wrist and elbow motions. Because it's so tiny you can't help but hold it properly in order to get the maximum yield from the hair. We squealed when we saw it.

It was a great introduction to the group and to working with the new teacher. I'm looking forward to the next group lesson, which is in a month's time. After that there's a December dress rehearsal and then a performance at a group home.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Headaches

Yesterday, not long after I wrote my journal entry about practising, my Internet connection went kablooey and I spent the next couple of hours unsuccessfully trying to fix it. I ended up turning the damn thing off and going to work in the living room. It gave me writing time, but I had tons of Internet-associated research to handle and correspondence to catch up on, and it made me very cranky. Also, I lost an expanded ETA form of that last post in which I rhapsodized about a particular shift that I love doing in one of my lesson pieces. And the post didn't actually post thanks to the kablooeyness, I discovered this morning. Gnarr. However, I managed to play cello for a while longer, and get non-Internet dependent work done as well.

Orchestra last night was good. I don't know if someone mentioned something about our situation to the guest conductor but he's really focusing on interpretation and phrasing. Quite nice. And the principal showed me a terrific fingering for the opening phrase of the Wagner clarinet piece we're accompanying (five flats! dear gods!).

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Canny

Yes! The way to successfully avoid work is to practise the cello loudly for an hour!

(I can't feel my left hand from the wrist to the base of the fingers. It's a very odd sensation. Or lack of it, I suppose. All that vibrato, you know.)

I am so incredibly pleased with the sweeter tone the luthier coaxed out of this cello with the new strings and the bridge. I noodled about with 'Itsumo Nando Demo', trying out different slurs and phrasings, then played through some of my lesson stuff again. All in all I've done about an hour. Most excellent.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Melancholy, And The Rosin Story

I keep tearing up at random things. My throat swells shut and I feel the hot prickle of tears in my eyes at the oddest times. I had to turn a CD off in the car last night, and again this morning. I had to put Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist down when the early morning harmony thing happened. I'm just blue, and I don't know why.

Orchestra was okay. I was so drained, though, that I had trouble summoning up the energy necessary for certain pieces. We sight-read a Hungarian dance and my fingers were like noodles during the pizzicato all over the fingerboard. My section leader, AKA my new teacher, gave me four pieces for the group lesson I'll be attending later this month, and I played through them today, feeling very... I can't put a word to it because it wasn't exciting, really; more like I was quietly pleased that I've finally done something about lessons again. This is the first assigned lesson material I've worked on in ten years.

And it was mostly easy and pretty, three of the four accompaniment to early Suzuki pieces (some of her other students are very new cellists). Except there's a set of double stops in the third part of the cello trio arrangement of a Brahms symphony movement that I can't get to save my life. This is what teachers are for.

Oh, I mentioned the rosin thing yesterday. I should elaborate on that.

When I originally recounted my wonderful story about receiving the Mystery Cello in trust from my cousin, I mentioned that I'd forgotten a suitcase full of his grandmother's music. My mother brought it up with her when she and my aunt (the mother of the cousin in question, actually) stopped by on their way to do the driving tour of the Eastern Townships. Monday night while HRH was putting the boy to bed I poured myself a glass of wine, settled myself on the living room floor, and opened it. It was exciting. Anything could lie inside! What kind of music did she like to play? Were there handwritten fingerings, or notes to herself among the pages of a favourite piece? What would I find?

It smelled of dust and damp, the kind of smell one associates with attics and antique stores. The suitcase itself is covered in textured brown leather, peeling away from the wood thanks to use and age. It closes with two clasps in tarnished brass, and her maiden initials were stamped on it in gold under the handle: R. B. B.. I popped open the clasps and lifted the lid.

The lining is that watered silk-looking fabric, possibly once a lovely rose colour, now faded to a tired shade close to that of an old pink school eraser. Inside was a black soft-side leather briefcase. I slipped my hand into the pocket of the lid first and pulled out some sheets of paper, loose photocopied pages of handwritten music copied from somewhere. Slipping my hand in again I found an unused Thomastik Permament cello A string in perfect condition except for the crumpled paper envelope.

I lifted the briefcase out and set it aside. Under it were dozens of partitions, sheet music for popular songs and dances and arrangements of orchestral pieces now forgotten, all for violin. Parlour music, for home music-making. The average price was fifty cents (sixty cents Canadian!) and the store stamps were of shops in Ottawa as well as Montreal. Pretty much the only things I recognized were the Mendelssohn violin concerto and the Beethoven violin concertos. At the bottom was a blue binder containing both violin and cello parts for quartet pieces, some of which I recognized (wedding marches, waltzes, arrangements of arias), some of which I didn't. The paper was old and crumbling apart, yellowed and stained, and it all smelled like dampness and dust. There were no dates, but I guessed the sheet music dated from around the nineteen thirties, give or take a decade or so.

The briefcase held the cello music. On top was a familiar Suzuki book, the same book and the same edition I'd started with (lots of teachers use the Suzuki books but don't teach the method). This gave me pause. Why on earth would she have had a Suzuki book? I opened it in hopes of seeing a date inside it. After all, I note down the date I purchase books and music inside the cover, and often note down the date I start or finish working on a piece. She didn't (much to my frustration when going through the other stuff), but inside the book were two sheets of looseleaf paper, still white, with notes from her teacher written on them, that outlined how to hold the cello and bow, how to place the fingers, and a couple of things to remember along with some homework. And the second of these was dated Aug 31/95.

Nineteen ninety five? Wait -- what?

Then I realized that I had no recollection of exactly when she had died. It was when my parents were still in Montreal, but I couldn't remember if it had been before or after I'd moved out. Then it occurred to me that the book was likely the property of my cousin, who had taken a couple of lessons after he'd inherited the cello before deciding it wasn't for him.

The rest of the cello music is old and crumbling too, which leads me to believe that her teacher gave it to her along with the cello. There's nothing I can really use because again it's all stuff that was popular at the time it was printed, written by composers I've never heard of. I suppose I could put some of it up on the stand and play through it to hear what it's like, but I have enough work right now, thanks.

I put my hand inside the case and slid it along the seams to be sure I'd gotten everything and my fingers bumped into something. I drew out a blue silk cleaning cloth, a Ziplock bag with two used A and D strings, then a wooden contraption made of two foot-long slim pieces of wood an inch wide and a half-inch deep, joined together at one of the narrow ends by a hinge. On one of the pieces of wood opposite the hinge end was a narrow strip of leather in a loop stapled into the wood. I know what this is! It's a homemade endpin brace! I thought, and opened it up to reveal a line of drilled holes along the unhinged end of the other piece of wood. The leather loop goes around the cellist's chair leg, the unfolded wooden strips are laid on the ground, and the endpin is inserted in one of the holes so that it doesn't slip on stone floors or mark hardwood. I ran my hands along the torn lining of the suitcase as well and found a set of violin pitch pipes and a brand new cake of Hidershine rosin. (Brand new in that it had been used maybe twice, not brand new as in purchased last week. The design on the box was decidedly outdated!) I tried the rosin last night and it's dry, not as sticky as my Hills. My initial impression is that I like it; I'll use it for a while. I thought I preferred a slightly sticky rosin, but maybe not. We'll see.

I replaced everything in the suitcase and closed it up. I'm going to have to move it from my office to downstairs because the dust (and likely mold) in it is triggering my asthma.

It was a fascinating exercise to go through every single sheet of music, turning pages carefully so they didn't crumble, feeling the dampness of the thicker books, breathing in the scent of years of music this woman made. I'm touching history a bit more, learning more about the woman who played the cello before my cousin inherited it, before I was given the wonderful opportunity to play it too.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

I Can Has Cello Lessons!

Starting after Thanksgiving, in fact (which means in three weeks, where did the year go?) and at a surprisingly low fee too. The same hour-long lesson fee I first paid when I started lessons fifteen years ago, actually. That particular lesson fee went up every year until I was paying 30% more in my fourth and final year of lessons. I expected this lesson fee to be somewhat equivalent to the last fee I paid, or to be even higher to reflect the natural economic inflation of ten or so years. I am, of course, very thankful that it's not bank-breaking, but still, I am astonished at how affordable it is.

I have already been informed that we have a Christmas concert in mid-December. And I'm okay with that. (Wow. Thank you, Random Colour.) Plus there will be a group lesson once a month! I think that's really neat.

Now I need to sit down and think about my goals so that I can articulate them to my teacher when the time comes, because I'm certain she will ask. Things like becoming more familiar with the geography of the finger board, a more solid foundation in theory (or any foundation at all... it's embarrassing when a conductor starts using solfege terminology and I, er, can't follow it *cough* *cough*), intonation... I'm sure there will be more that come to mind. (A better bow hold, more efficient left hand movement, oh, the list will go on... and this sounds like a letter to Santa. Dear Santa, please bring me a better understanding of A flat major and D flat major, an accurate thumb position, and a better vibrato with my fourth finger. Love, Autumn.)

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Success!

I cannot find my CD of William Boyce symphonies anywhere, and it is making me very cranky because that's what I want to listen to this morning, damn it. I have to settle for Percy Grainger piano stuff instead. Which is nice to rediscover and all, but he's not William Boyce.

The weekend ranged from really quite nice to argh and back again. On Saturday morning we found HRH a new fall jacket, I picked up some heel liners for my red shoes, and then we headed out to Longueuil to pick up my cello. And oh joy, it sounds bee-you-ti-full. My cello has always been easy to play (in the getting-sound-out-of-it sense, not the oversized-body-thick-neck-argh sense), but now it's even easier! I always forget how strings deteriorate in sound quality over time, and the awful warp on the bridge certainly wasn't helping. I, like an absent-minded sick person, wore a long straight denim skirt and a black sweater along with my red shoes. Lovely for a sunny day in fall; not so conducive to cello-playing. No matter; I sat with both knees together and to the left, and played the cello side-saddle to hear how it sounded. The ten year old girl there renting her first violin gave me a surprised look. Anyway, lovely, lovely sound: I love the feel and tension of the new strings (Kaplan Solutions A and D, Helicore G and C), the new scoop on the fingerboard makes thumb position easy to play (I never thought I'd say that, ever) and the bridge is just beautiful and looks so much sturdier than my last one from my now-ex-luthier. They reshaped the pegs, too. "Really?" I said. "They were fine -- never stuck, never slipped." "You'd have noticed sooner or later," the assistant luthier said darkly. "They were decidedly... oval." And then he asked shyly about the mystery cello, which is still tucked away along a wall of the workroom, so I obliged him by telling him the Secret Origin story. The luthier flew in from dealing with three people in the other room long enough to make sure I was thrilled with the tune-up and then apologised for not getting to the quote on the mystery cello; he said things were very busy. I assured him that of course it was busy, it was the beginning of the school year as well as the concert season, and not to stress about it. It's going to take a while to restore anyway; a few weeks aren't going to make much difference in the long run. It's also not like the mystery cello is my main instrument, and I've lived fifteenish years of my cello-playing life without it. Of course I'm excited about it, but there's no rush.

I forgot to buy rosin again. Again. I give up.

I didn't bring my bow with me to test the new setup so they lent me one, and it's a good thing I didn't play with it for more then five minutes because I was falling in love with it. Perfect weight, nice balance, good springiness; more responsive than the one I currently use, which has been my favourite up till now. The assistant helpfully looked it up for me: pernambuco of Chinese make, four hundred dollars. If it had been three hundred I'd have bought it on the spot. But still, it's a decent price for a pernambuco bow with those fittings and that kind of response. I keep telling myself there's no point in buying a new bow now if I'm going to be playing a different cello in a few months. But I want it.

I played the cello for a while while the boy napped on Sunday, and it still sounds lovely. It sounded much nicer at the lutherie, of course, because of the surroundings and because I wasn't afraid to actually make noise. Pizzicato sounds terrific; nice sustain. I'm looking forward to playing it at orchestra on Wednesday.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Music Stuff

Yay! Daniel Levitin has a new book out, this one called The World In Six Songs: How the Musical Brain Created Human Nature. I loved This Is Your Brain On Music, so I'm going to pick this one up ASAP. Because, you know, I don't have enough books on the To Read pile. (Two-thirds of the way through Anathem, still loving it, regretting that there are only 300 pages left; sigh. Also, I have a review book I'm supposed to read and, well, review, except I am so not in the mood for something set in the Regency period right now.)

Last night's first rehearsal of the season was great. It felt really good to be back playing in concert with everyone. Our first guest conductor is in fact someone who we tested fiveish years ago when our original conductor passed away. I didn't remember his name or his technique at all until about halfway through this rehearsal. He worked on having us express the music cleanly and with emotion, already set bowings for us prior to the rehearsal, and used examples and terminology to shape our interpretation. One night isn't enough to fully evaluate someone's technique, of course; we'll be working with him properly for a couple of months to see how we suit. My borrowed cello was solid and serviceable but I'm glad I don't play it on a regular basis. It was somewhat stiff, and the action was very high; thumb position would have killed me. I can see why C. upgraded to her current instrument, and again I'm reminded of how easy my cello is to play (oversize notwithstanding).

When I left for rehearsal I thought, Hmm, what do I need to bring? Oh, I should take my bow. A bow is a very personal thing, you see. So I grabbed that and off I went... leaving behind my (empty) music folder, my tuner, my pencils, my cleaning cloth, and my rosin. All these things are usually in my cello case, which is currently at the luthier with my cello, and since I don't carry them separately it didn't occur to me that I might need to collect them as well. At least I brought a bag with me so I could carry the music home, there was a pencil in my purse, and our section leader lent me her rosin (Liebenzeller Gold, wow; wish I'd had my own cello so I could have evaluated it better) and tuner.

Of course, although she'd heard about the new mystery cello and asked after it (hurrah for the tiny musical community who shares links to exciting blog posts about a fellow musician's good fortune!) I forgot to ask her about lessons. Argh. I will write myself a note and stick it on the front of my music folder for next week.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

The Evolution of the 7/8 Adventure

Okay, so, yes. Where were we in our 7/8 adventure? Right; decapitated mystery cello.

The stars aligned and my luthier and I were finally in town at the same time, so I brought my cello (whose name is Adele, actually, but if I suddenly start referring to an Adele without explaining it I'm fairly certain most readers will wonder who I'm talking about) in for a tune-up, and the mystery cello in for an evaluation of necessary work.

I can't tell you how excited Olivier was when I slid the body out of the case. (Heh -- how's that for the first line in a short story? Must file that away somewhere.) He turned the cello over and over to look at it, measuring here and there and saying, "German, this is beautiful, when it's restored it will sound lovely!" It's officially a 4/4, but a small 4/4, which was one of the acceptable options back when we began the 7/8 search. He measured the neck and we discovered that it's actually a centimetre too long. That may not sound like much to you, but when the world of lutherie works in millimetres, it's huge. It would mean I'd be playing fourth position way further down that I should be. That's ungood for technique and playability.

So let's see, here's what needs to be done.

- the back needs to be taken off for the work to happen (a separate charge all its own, as it's a huge deal)
- the two cracks on the shoulders need to be patched from the inside
- the hole/dent needs to be patched from the inside
- the button needs to be regrafted
- the two missing chips on either side of the neck block (where the neck is attached to the body) need to be replaced with newly carved bits and grafted on (alas, this was the one thing that will be new on the body itself; he asked hopefully if the bits were somewhere in the case so as to use the original wood, but no luck)
- the cracks in the neck block need to be fixed and a patch put under it all to strengthen it
- the fingerboard needs to be replaced (or reshaped, we're not sure yet)
- the neck needs to be adjusted to make it smaller (he thinks he can shave a bit off the base where it attaches to the body to take off a few millimetres there), and some cracks filled
- the fingerboard needs to be moved down from the nut a bit (here's where we'll make up another few millimetres)
- a new bridge, soundpost, strings, and tailpiece (because the one that came with it is very heavy, which suppresses vibration and closes up the potential sound. I suspect we'll end up with a new endpin too, but that's not essential.)

While this list sounds extensive it's really not. The basic integrity of the cello is sound; it's a miracle that there are no cracks or punctures on the belly or the back as a result of the car crash. Olivier is anticipating a glorious sound from it when it's in playable condition. And while he couldn't give a firm estimate today, he thinks the repairs will cost between two and three thousand dollars. (That's nothing, and pretty much what I expected. And as I'm sharing the cost of repair with my cousin, even if it's on the high end of that spectrum, my share will still be less than what I'd budgeted for a new cello.) And most dizzying of all... once restored, it will be worth between eight and ten thousand.

This alone scares the heck out of me. It's pretty equally matched by how much I'm awed by the opportunity to play it that Fate has granted me, though. Surpassed by it, truth be known. I'll request an official certificate of appraisal once it's all done and use that to insure the hell out of it.

He'll email me this week with a final figure, I'll give the go-ahead (because really, how could I not?) and away we'll go. I have no idea how long it will take; he'll probably give me an estimate on that when he emails me the quote. In the meantime I'll start shopping for lightweight ultra-protective hard cases, because there's no way I'm hauling a nine thousand dollar cello around in a soft gig case. (Also on the shopping list is a soft case that doesn't scratch Adele. Or I may bring the current gig case to a tailor and ask them to sew in a flap of chamois or something of the sort that will lie under the zip.) I'll also start looking at new bows, because I'll need something better to work with than my $130 cracked-frog bow that I love for my current cello but needs replacing anyhow.

I am so very excited about this. Olivier is too, which tells me more about the quality of the instrument than anything else. And if I'm going to be playing a cello of that kind of quality, I am absolutely going to start taking lessons again this fall. Otherwise I'll feel as if I'm wasting its potential. I'll speak with my section leader at our first rehearsal back.

As for Adele, I'm having very basic but necessary work done: new bridge and strings, soundpost adjustment, the fingerboard crack filled and the playing surface planed to obtain the proper scoop and level out the odd bulge it's developed. ("Planing the warp out of it will make it much easier to play," he said, to which I involuntarily responded, "Thank God." The one drawback to testing new cellos is that it's demonstrated how less-easy mine is to play.) As much as I love the Evah Pirazzi strings I don't want to put a $250 set on it if I'm going to play the German cello once it's ready, so we decided on the combo of a Kaplan Solutions A and D with a Helicore G and C. It's actually a combo I'd noted down while researching new strings. She'll will be ready next weekend, although I won't be here to pick her up; I'll have to collect her the following week.

So there you are. What was once a 7/8 quest has evolved into the rescue of an on-the-small-end-of-full-size turn of the century German cello. I'll have to make sure he puts his own label inside once it's reconstructed, the luthier's equivalent of signing your work. It's one of the only ways people can trace the evolution of an instrument. He'll certainly deserve the credit.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

Orchestra Update

We had a general meeting of the orchestra membership last week, something has hasn't been done in at least eighteen years, possibly the entire life of the group. There have been some changes. They're growing pangs, really, because for three decades our original conductor Andres helmed the group, having founded it and maintained it on his own. When we lost him so suddenly and tragically the group needed to develop some guidelines and new methods out of thin air, and we're still working them out as we encounter obstacles. One of the things we're refining is our method of selecting and reviewing conductors. Our most recent conductor's term has ended, and we're now preparing to audition three new conductors over the upcoming season, one per concert session.

This happened some what precipitously, because we didn't have a clearly defined review system in place. The point is, most of us expected to be somewhat adrift for the first while due to the unexpectedness of the event and the timing, but to my surprise at this general meeting the exec revealed that we not only had a guest conductor in place, but we had a programme and our first concert date scheduled. This is going so well that I can't help but suspect our decisions in the matter have all been the correct ones. Not only do we have our first guest conductor scheduled, but we've had a call from the director of the WIYSO expressing interest in one of the future guest spots, as have a couple of others. There were some suggestions from the membership too, revolving around multiple performances of the same programme in different areas instead of a single concert, raising membership fees to generate more available capital with which to pay conductors (thereby enabling us to attract higher-profile directors), and communication suggestions (especially an interactive website with a members-only section to enable us to share ideas and receive information). The plan is to have a different conductor for each of our three concerts in the upcoming season, to evaluate each, and then vote on one to invite back.

From what I can remember, our first programme will consist of a Mozart divertimento for strings, the Iphigenia in Aulis overture, Haydn's 104th symphony, and a Vivaldi concerto for four violins with continuo (our prize for the winners of the Lakeshore Chamber Music Society's concerto competition). Our first rehearsal is on September 17, and our first concert is on November 22. We'll have to be really focused and on the ball with this new conductor to prepare a concert in that period of time. This will happen naturally of course, as everyone will be hyper-aware and paying very close attention to the new director's technique. New blood to stir us up will be good. I'm looking forward to exploring music with a new director. One of the things I realised through this summer mini-crisis about the orchestra leadership was that I was focusing on my own satisfaction with my technical performance in a concert and extrapolating that to measure the orchestra's overall performance, which was wrong of me. I was also shifting my personal focus to technical improvement because I wasn't getting artistic or interpretive satisfaction from the overall musical experience. The orchestra really needs to grow and develop musically now. We'll see what happens in the coming weeks.

Apart from that, musically I've been kind of on hold. I've been playing songs and such, testing my treble clef reading, but the 7/8 search and the mystery cello repair hasn't moved forward. Why? Because my luthier and I miscommunicated about vacation, and he wasn't gone the first two weeks of August but the last two weeks. Had I known I would have brought him my cello for its tune-up and the mystery cello as soon as I got home from our trip. Ah well, everything ought to be back to usual now that it's September; I'll call him Thursday. With orchestra only beginning two weeks from now, there's time to take my current cello in for adjustments, new bridge, new strings, and a quick repair to the soundboard crack, and get it back in plenty of time. Otherwise, I can always test another cello out and use that!

I find that my initial 'no I should upgrade the quality/level of the cello I'm using' is ebbing to 'something equivalent in a different shape would be just fine'. Which is a good thing, really, because it's assuaging a lot of the 'OMG so expensive where will I find the money now!' jitters I'm having. I'm interested to hear what the luthier will have to say about the mystery cello, too.

~
* The original post at Owls' Court (this is condensed from a longer, more general post)
* Owls' Court: the main journal
~

The 7/8 Cello And Mystery Cello Adventure (With Bonus Vacation Material)

Apparently I'm not the only one who had an appointment to try out the Jay Haide 7/8 cellos at the Soundpost last Tuesday. This was slightly... I'm not sure what it was. Odd, to say the very least. The Soundpost is a lovely shop, occupying three floors of an old house in downtown Toronto, right next to the Women's College. As there were no practice rooms available (or 7/8s, as someone else was playing them) I went downstairs to dig through the racks and drawers and piles of sheet music. I scored a copy of the Position Pieces for Cello Vol. 2 and a copy of Beethoven's third cello sonata. (Technically I own the sheet music to all six Beethoven sonatas, but they're in a single book which is great for reading along with a CD but lousy for playing, because the music is tiny and two out of three systems are piano, after all.) When I went back upstairs I tested the two 7/8s and as I noted before they were lovely and balanced, smooth, and very easy to play in the higher positions. I would be happy to own either of them. But I didn't fall in love with them enough to rent one.

Part of this has to do with the cello that I'd already met on this trip. And on the practical side of things, I didn't know how I'd fit two cellos in our trunk, despite it being a Trunk of Extended Holding. And the cello I'd already met had a wee bit more priority.

Sunday afternoon we went over to my cousin's house in Dundas. He and his wife and daughter usually come out to my parents' home when we're visiting, but they wanted to do dinner for us this time so over we went. They have a lovely little home dating from the early twentieth century, with striking crown moldings and hardwood floors. Anyway, between dinner and dessert I stepped inside to help get the whipped cream on its way, and mentioned to my cousin that I had an appointment with a luthier in Toronto in two days' time, and if he liked I could bring his grandmother's cello in with me to get a quick estimate on the necessary repair work. He'd inherited this cello from his grandmother (on his father's side, not my grandmother) and had crossed the country with it a few times as he went back and forth between the west and east coasts. On the last trip into Ontario a couple of years ago there had been a car accident and the cello had been damaged. I hadn't asked the extent of the damage; I only knew it needed to be fixed in some way. He agreed that it would be a good idea, all the more so because he really didn't know where to bring it, and brought me upstairs where he took it out of a closet. The soft case was flopped over: the neck had broken off in the accident. I had no idea seeing a cello without its neck -- not even out of the case yet -- could make me feel that sick inside. We put it down on the central landing and eased it out of the case.


Gentle readers, it's beautiful. It's a burnished chestnut brown, with a deep grain; no shiny varnish fills these ridges in. The bridge and tailpiece were off so I picked up the body and angled it, peering inside for a label. The only one in it is a handwritten slip of paper that says Réparé par H. Gagnier, 1915 in slightly blurry ink. My cousin found the neck and brought it out too. The scroll is a beautiful glowing honey colour, and three of the four tuning pegs have tiny mother of pearl circles set in them. Around the pegs are little holes, which puzzled me until HRH pointed out that it must have had decorative plates around them. My cousin says that the cello is supposed to be a turn of the (twentieth, obviously) century German-made instrument. The story goes that his grandmother used to be a violinist, until her arthritis got too bad for her to make the minute movements required for violin playing. She was going to quit entirely but her teacher coaxed her into playing the cello, and sold her a cello she had for five hundred dollars. My cousin received the instrument after her death, and took a couple of lessons, but it didn't go further than that.

I looked closely at the neck, and at the body of the cello, and at its shape. I glanced at HRH, who was watching me oddly (having suspicions of his own), then I asked my cousin for a measuring tape.

"It's a 7/8, isn't it," HRH said as I took measurements.

"Almost. Not exactly," I said. "I think it would be classified as a small 4/4."

And so I explained to my cousin that I'd been looking for a 7/8 cello, and we talked about proportion and such. And then he nearly stopped my heart.

"Well, if you can get it fixed, you can use this one. The idea was that if we had a second child one of them would play the piano and the other the cello. But if we have a second child and they want to play the cello, by the time it's big enough to use a full-sized one we could just recall it from you. Someone might as well be playing it in the meantime."

I felt like I'd moved into some sort of alternate reality. We talked about the repairs. Apart from the neck that's come off the body, there a small dent (almost a hole) in the upper rib, a few inches to the right of where the neck joins, and a few minor surface cracks along both sides of the ribs where they begin to curve down. We agreed that if the repairs could be done and result in a playable instrument, we would split the cost. I decided to bring it back home to my luthier, because I trust him and if this needs to be rebuilt then there's going to be some amount of back and forth, and it would be better to be in the same city for that.

So I have an antique German cello sitting in my office, in two pieces. I measured every inch of it the night we came home and it's proportionally smaller than my current 4/4 (not hard, as it's an oversized cello!). It's especially smaller in the upper half, which is where I need the daintier 7/8 proportions. Comparing the two sets of measurements, it looks like the German cello is a small 4/4 or a large 7/8. To be honest, I think it's what was called a lady's cello back then.

My luthier isn't back in town till mid-August. I'll call and set up an appointment with him to look at it and evaluate the extent of the damage, and give me an estimate. If it's the size I need, and he thinks the sound will be decent once it's patched, then I'm all for using it. My budget for a new 7/8 would more than cover half the repairs, unless they are astronomical. I tried to explain to my cousin how special this was, how I'd rather play something that had been in the family than a newer instrument, but I don't think I was very coherent.

He brought out an old suitcase of his grandmother's music for me to take home too, but I forgot it there when we left. I'll have to e-mail him and tell him to send it back with my parents the next time they go over, and I'll pick it up when I go down for the Hamilton event in September.

Here's what it will look like in one piece. I think it's beautiful. But then, I am biased.

I honestly think these are (relatively!) easy repairs. I've read enough about lutherie to know what's a dangerous crack and what isn't, and some of the techniques involved for fixing cracks and dents. There are no visible cracks to the belly or back of the instrument, which would be much more dangerous and tricky to repair, because they bear a lot of pressure. As drastic as it looks, the neck is the easiest issue to address; it needs to be glued back on, and a bit of cosmetic touch-up done. The angle may need to be adjusted. To fix the dent and the cracks in the upper ribs the top will have to be taken off, and either thin strips of wood or linen soaked in glue applied to the inside to patch and strengthen the existing wood. There may be things I can't see that will need attention as well, of course. Apart from those, the soundpost will have to be reset and possibly replaced, and there will almost certainly be a new bridge, and it needs new strings. It will always be delicate and in need of cosseting; any instrument that has cracked does. If the luthier's estimate is too high, or if the news is bad right off the bat, I'll contact my cousin and we'll decide what to do next. And in the meantime, I have my 4/4 to play, and I'll keep testing 7/8s as they come.

* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal

Quick Post-Trip Update

Hullo world; we are back safe and sound. I have much cello news to jot down, but it will have to wait until Monday, most likely. Other than that: lovely trip, am proud of the boy in general for behaving very well, loved seeing the parental units. We got a bike trailer. The car trunk has been officially dubbed The Trunk of Extended Holding, because there is no way it could possibly have held all our bags, the bike trailer, a box with a printer inside it, assorted things we bought there (like a bike helmet for the boy and a couple of toys to be put away for Yule), and a cello.

Did I say a cello? I did, didn't I. Oops.

Okay, all you get until I have the proper time to post is this: No, I did not buy one of the two 7/8 Jay Haides I tried out at The Soundpost, although they were lovely and smooth and dreadfully easy to play and had nicely balanced tone throughout the complete range, especially the second one. And the staff were equally wonderful and made me feel very welcome. No, I came home with a turn of the century German-made one instead.

That's all the explanation you get till early next week. Maybe sooner, if I have the time. Muah-hah-hah.

Another 7/8 Chapter Ends

We returned the 7/8 cello Number 3 to the luthier this past Saturday morning. "And?" he said. "Almost," I said. "Almost, but not quite." I explained that the two-week home trial had confirmed that the 7/8 size is indeed perfect for me, but that this particular instrument just didn't have that certain something that clicked and made it mine. He asked if there was anything particular, in order to avoid it when selecting another for me to test, and I shook my head; there wasn't anything specifically wrong. It just didn't grab me and say, 'You cannot part with me.' I like the tone, the overtones, the balance, the construction, the feel under my fingers, everything; it's just not this one that I need. He has another 7/8 in his Laval workshop and will bring it in for me, but I'm on holiday the last two weeks of July and he's closed the first two weeks of August, so we'll pick up again then. In the meantime there's the two shops in Toronto, and the Scarlatti 7/8 Number 2 to take home for a test, and I'll think about the one in Alaska too.

My office feels much bigger with only one cello in it. I tried playing my 4/4 the other day and, as I was afraid, it feels clunky to me now. I so didn’t want this to happen.

(Condensed and combined from two posts at Owls' Court.)

I'll See Your 'Damn' And Raise You An 'Oh Hell'

Last night I pulled out the Vivaldi double concerto and looked it over. I was working on it a few months ago, and I thought that I'd try it out on the 7/8.

Today I played the first movement on my cello first. Then I took the 7/8 out (Number 3 for those of you with scorecards) and played it again.

Oh, hell.

See, the size of the 7/8 actually does make a difference. It's finally coalescing. My arms don't have to be out so far in front of me to play; the energy and motion used in bowing is more efficient when I'm using the 7/8. It's all closer to the body and it's easier to use gravity as an aid instead of struggling against it.

Okay, fine. I've proven that to myself. The 7/8 is a better size for me.

The sound was nicer too, but again, that may just be the newer strings.

And finally, I don't feel like the 7/8 is going to twist or angle oddly under my bow. I don't have to brace it as much as when I play the 4/4. It feels sturdier in just about every way.

The finish of Number 3 is even growing on me.

I have done my damnedest not to get attached, and to be as objective as possible. I think I've finally proven to myself that the size is important. I'm still not completely convinced about this 7/8 being The One!!1!, but I am convinced about the size. I'd like to try a couple more. I'll sign the Number Two (AKA the Scarlatti) out from Wilder & Davis in early August. It may be a thousand dollars more, but it's worth a listen at home. There's a 7/8 four grades higher than Numbers 1 and 3 for sale through a private luthier in Alaska too (an AE405, if anyone's dying of curiosity) that come with the hard case I want and a bow three times better than the one that comes with this SE/VC100. It's had finessing work done on it (including a carbon fibre endpin! and a new French style bridge!) and is $1,100 cheaper than the list price (and the basic list price doesn't include the upgraded bow or the bonus hard case, only a mid-range bow and a soft case). Of course I'd have to order it on trial, and I'd have ten days to decide at home if I liked it or not. If I don't, I'd ship it back and absorb the shipping cost ($100 each way, which sounds like a lot but is cheap for this kind fo thing, I assure you, wow!). But here's the kicker: the cost of this several-notches-higher 7/8 with upgraded bow and hard case is only five hundred dollars more than good old Number 3 here, with its soft case and bottom of the line bow. If I added the $500 hard case to the cost of the VC100 here, I'd be looking at $2,000 anyway. Normally I am violently opposed to buying instruments over the internet, but the numbers are very persuasive, the luthier is reputable, many people have dealt with her among the online community and they say nothing but good things. I've chatted with her in forums and on bulletin boards on occasion and she's honest.

It's an option. And I'm serious enough about this that investing $200 in a cello I might not keep is acceptable, because the payoff could be wonderful. And if it ends up being only as good as the VC100, well, I've still snagged myself a deal. I find myself measuring things in freelance work now: a new printer is one evaluation, a new computer will be five, and so forth. So if I tried this and wasn't happy with the cello I'd only have invested two evaluations in it.

Not that this is a done deal; I want to visit The Sound Post while we're in Toronto to play some of their stock, and while we're there I may as well swing past Remenyi as well. I have all summer to do this.

(Originally published at Owls' Court.)

Damn

So what does one do when one had a headache?

One plays the cello,of course! After all, this 7/8 goes back on Saturday and I'm not going to have much more opportunity to play it. I haven't touched it since the second-to-last rehearsal with orchestra. So I hauled it out to play through some stuff.

Wow, the Breval sonata in C never sounded so good. Seriously.

Also? While playing 'Ana Ng' and 'Experimental Film' I discovered this instrument's overtones. Helloooo, lovely overtones. You make TMBG basslines sound like high art.

Again, I don't know how much of this has to do with the shiny-new! effect, or the newer strings, or what. But it certainly sounded pretty. And I'm starting to feel how much easier it is to play around the slightly smaller body of the 7/8.

It's still going back on Saturday; I can't buy it right now, and I'd still be very on the fence about it if I could. But these are things to make note of.

(Originally posted at Owls' Court.)

The Ongoing 7/8 Report

For reference purposes I'm labeling this Eastman VC-100 7/8 I'm currently play-testing as Number 3, the Scarlatti 7/8 I tried at Wilder & Davis as Number 2, and the original Eastman VC-100 that was sold Number 1.

I did a bit of recording in my office, and it's not the same as the recording I did at the second luthierie. It's completely the environment; when I recorded the second 7/8 it was in a practice room lined with cellos, and so the sound was super resonant, because all of them were vibrating when I played. I have no way of checking the actual sound unless I sign out the Number 2 on home trial and record it here. Which I may do at some point this summer, I suppose. One must entertain oneself somehow.

This third one just doesn't grab me. I don't feel the same smoothness. The action's pretty high, probably because those extra millimetres of string length have to come from somewhere. It doesn't bother my fingers, though.

I haven't touched the bow. I tried it a bit and it needs a lot more rosin; it skipped around a lot. The balance seems all right, as does the weight. Nothing outstanding.

The finish is a polished satin, but I liked the colour of Number 1 better. I am very, very shallow. But it's part of the aesthetic.

I took it to rehearsal last week, and it performed adequately in the ensemble. The sound was slightly warmer than my 4/4, which tends to a more brittle sound. I don't know how much of this is due to the newer strings. Mine are a year old, after all. I did have to fine-tune frequently throughout rehearsal. (Yikes -- I just double-checked, and mine are not one but two years old. Oy! I remembered getting them just before a spring gig, and evidently it wasn't the Victoria Day 2007 concert but the April 2006 concert just before t! and Jan got married.)

Part of my problem is the cello I buy now won't be the same in a couple of years; they need to be played in before the sound matures. Mine's had forty years of settling in. This one was made last year and would need a lot of work to break it in properly. (Hell, my strings are older than this 7/8.) Of course, this is true of any new cello I buy. Still.

I do adore the case with much adoration, however. Not that this will be a deciding factor. It's good to know if I can't afford a hard case, however, I can buy this kind of soft case for the next cello and it will be better protected than the thinner gig case I use now. (Which is, I have discovered to my absolute horror, scratching the sides of the cello. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad! Did I mention that it's bad? And bad?)

Part of me is still thinking I should look at a step or two higher. Sure, the quality of the VC-100 is equivalent to mine, which is a high-end student model itself, but I really do want to upgrade in quality as well as the size. The size and playability might make a long-term difference, but I can't evaluate that until I've had the damn thing long-term. I want to visit a shop in Toronto when we're up there later this month and see what they have, too. I thought about asking Olivier to order in an other one, but I don't think I will at this point.

I can't see the point in buying something that's equivalent to mine but with a slightly different shape. Number 1 had enough of a difference in sound and feel that I considered buying it. I simply don't like this one enough. I'll play it again early next week, but I'm fairly certain it's going back. (Well, it's going back either way; I don't have the money for it at the moment.) If I loved it I'd have negotiated putting a deposit on it, but I don't, so that's that.

(Originally posted at Owls' Court.)

Canada Day Concert Recap

Can I get away with saying "Best Canada Day concert ever?"

Not really, I suppose. And it wouldn't do posterity any good, either. The main reason I journal is so that I can go back and refer to it, after all, so a bit more detail is necessary.

First of all, hearty thanks go out to the following in the order I saw them before the concert: my mum and dad, MLG, ADZO, t!, Jan, Lu, Ceri, Scott, Marc, Miseri, Mousme, tcaptain and J. One of the reasons I love this concert is because I see friends I don't see often. Your presence was deeply appreciated, and I hope you all enjoyed yourselves. And thanks go out to everyone who wanted to be there but couldn't as well.

And of course, deepest thanks go to HRH and the boy, for making it an extra-special concert. This was the first concert the boy was old enough to attend properly and be aware of what was going on. He's known for weeks that it was coming up, and as the date approached I reminded him, shared some of the music with him, and looked through his book about instruments to explore the different kinds of things he'd see. He stayed for the warm up and by all reports enjoyed himself thoroughly, sometimes tapping along with the rhythm on the back of the pew in front of him, sometimes conducting like Douglas. After the warm up he pulled me outside to a jungle gym-type thing next to the school across from the church where he proceeded to throw himself up ladders, across hanging bridges, and down slides in all possible ways, encouraging me to do the same. Then MLG and ADZO showed up and he exhorted them to join him in his play too. Then he called some random teenagers over: "Hey, hi! Come play with me! Come slide!" and he did it with such openness and enthusiasm that they did so with decent humour. We met up with a few other people (Lu brought me swag from the BEC! I have an AGaTB lace hairband among ARCs and a book for the boy and other things!) and then I headed back to join the others preparing for play. (The music kind, not the jungle gym kind.)

We were fortunate in the weather. There have been awful, awful days when the night has been dreadfully humid and sticky, and there have been nights where the wind has been so bad we lost music and stands. But this night was just about perfect. It was hot (it's July, after all) but fingers weren't slipping on keys or strings and shirts weren't sopping wet. It was pretty much perfect.

There's something remarkably special about playing the national anthem. First of all, the cello line is so unlike the melody we sing that it's really unique to hear how it all fits together. Second, there's something very powerful about how the drum roll steadies and then initialises the orchestra. Third, it's incredible to sense the audience suddenly recognising what's happening and surging to its feet, joining in with the vocal line around the third note. Finally, it's just so damn cool to play it and to hear a few hundred people singing the anthem to orchestral accompaniment. And there's always an extra bonus when people applaud. Traditionally the anthem isn't applauded, and while I'm sure there's some sort of philosophical reason for it, I can't think of a time when I'm more prompted to applaud than after a stirring rendition of the anthem, partially for the anthem itself and the nation (yay us!) and partly for the performers. Besides, it was Canada Day.

While I never hit the cello zone, I was very comfortable throughout this performance and please with my work. I enjoyed myself a lot, which on its own is huge. I had no major technical issues during the concert. The finger I use for pizzicato froze up during "Younger Than the Springtime" as it always does, but apart from that and some minor intonation issues (I can't hear a thing in that church, it melds all the sound together), and a bit where both the principal and I stopped in frustration because the cellist behind her was playing very loudly and racing ahead in a certain passage in the first piece and we couldn't hear things well enough to keep the proper pace going, it was a very good concert from the performance side of things. It was lovely from the artistic side, too. I like to begin with a piece I find pretty because it gives me confidence for the rest of the night, and the Symphony no. 3 (by not-really-Mozart) has a beautiful and expressive second movement that I love to play. I greatly appreciated not beginning with the Figaro overture, as it has some finicky technical stuff that would have frustrated me had I played it cold. As it was we did a very good job of it, nice and quick. The church may muddle sound but it also makes it sound very large and well-blended, so the overture had a very nice overall presentation that allowed some of the less precise stuff to slip through without calling much attention to itself. The 32nd symphony went well too.

The second half of the concert was the musicals, and we nailed them. We absolutely nailed them. In the past we have done passable renditions of some medleys, but these are decent arrangements and we were really on. It helps to have a good brass section for these things, and ours handled things just fine, thanks. I heard people in the audience singing along at a couple of places, and there were people crying at the end of The Sound of Music medley (of course they were, the 'Climb Every Mountain' arrangement was specifically designed to rip shamelessly at heartstrings). It's always good for the ego to see people surging to their feet almost as soon as the conductor has cut the orchestra off, and to hear the wave of applause crash into us.

Sitting right next to the conductor means I make a lot of eye contact with him throughout the concert, and I get to see his face as soon as we're done each piece. He winks at us with a crooked grin, or beams, or clenches a fist in a "yes!" motion, or nods and places his baton on his stand, or gives us a wordless smile to tell us we aced it before turning around to accept the applause and bow. Seeing his immediate emotional reaction is worth a lot. He's genuinely happy for us, or thrilled at what he pulled out of us; he acknowledges what we've done. I like to smile back at him and nod, to reinforce what he's given us and to thank him wordlessly in return. I often get a chance to thank him in person after the concert as well, and he always seems so hesitant, so unlike the caught-up-in-the-moment triumph in the moments following the final chord. He told us at the dress rehearsal there would be no encore, that he's not "an encore kind of guy". "Leave them wanting more" is more his style, and I can see his point. It's great to leave things on that much of a high, vibrating with that much energy. An encore is satisfying in a very different way. (Besides, where could we go after 'Climb Every Mountain'? Nowhere, that's where.)

My deepest hope for this concert was that the boy would fall asleep or get so cranky that HRH would have to take him away from the concert. He was fine but squirmy, and HRH took him to sit on the steps to listen to the music. And when we began the Sound of Music he looked at HRH and said with excitement, "That's from my movie!" "Do you remember what it was called?" HRH asked. "Sound," the boy said after thinking about it for a moment. "The Sound of Music, that's right," said HRH. Another parent with a girl on the steps looked at him incredulously and said, "He's how old?" "Three," HRH told her, "but his mother is in the orchestra." (We apologise for his precociousness, it's subject-related, we assure you.) HRH brought him back in during the post-concert applause and they both applauded. HRH tells me the boy applauded enthusiastically after each piece during the whole concert, too. I was so pleased that he'd lasted the whole night, and that he'd had the opportunity to listen to the Sound of Music medley. I knew it would be exciting for him to hear us play something he knew.

As we'd expected, the boy was tired enough that we had to head directly home; no fireworks for us this year. He laid his head against the edge of his seat and stared out the window until he pulled his cap down over his face and drowsed. When we got him home at ten o'clock he went right to bed. I snuggled next to him, and he said sleepily, "Oh no, Mama, we forgot your cello at the concert!" I assured him it had been in the back of the car and it was safely home again, and he was asleep in seconds. We heard the faint sounds of fireworks in the neighbouring boroughs as we got ready for bed.

This was one of my favourite Canada Day concerts. It also marks the end of my seventh season with the orchestra. This time of year is always bittersweet for me, because I like to ride the high of a concert and use it to propel me into the next set of music. Without the structure of rehearsals every week I tend to lose momentum and stop playing. I have the ongoing search for the 7/8 to keep me going, but being on hold financially takes a lot of steam out of that project, and without rehearsal to test the various cellos in a group environment I lose out on that aspect of the home trial. (In fact there's a post due on the current 7/8 trial; it will come soonish.) It's hard to walk out of a concert on that kind of high and know you won't see everyone again for two months. We all scatter with instruments and stands and sometimes you can't even find section mates to bid them a good summer. I did get the chance to thank our substitute principal for stepping in to help keep us even and confident for this concert, and thank our conductor for a wonderful concert and an excellent season. The orchestra as a whole thanked our secretary/librarian/general manager with a lovely bouquet of roses; she really has done an incredible amount of work this season.

I've gained a lot of technique this year, and I owe a lot of that to our section leader. I absorb so much by simply sitting next to her. There's also a certain amount of pressure that comes from sitting right in front of the conductor (oh gods, he hears every wrong note I play), and it's done me a lot of good. I think my expression has firmed up a bit too, partly from the kind of music we've been playing, and partly from reading things like The Art of Practicing, Making Music for the Joy of It, and Rosindust, all of which talk about the emotion associated with playing and how to communicate it. It's important to remember that we make music because we love it. I think one of the reasons I prefer to play in ensembles is because I can relax more and merge my sound with someone else's. (I had a partial solo of two notes this concert! Yes! I played them with the principal, sharing the first note and playing a different note afterwards! If you were there you probably didn't notice. That's okay. I know it was marked 'Solo' in the music and that's what counts. And yes, I played it very nicely.)

I should really think seriously about lessons again.

Okay, this is very long, and more than enough. It was good, it was great, I loved it, I'm very pleased with how I played and with the overall evening. The end.

No, wait, one more thing: I hate it when audience members rush the stage to talk to people or to get to the bathroom before anyone else. We have sensitive and freaking expensive instruments here, people, and there's a mess of stands and chairs. The amount of times I had to step in front of people so they wouldn't kick my cello or knock a stand over onto someone or another instrument was unreal. Sheesh. At one concert we made an announcement to the effect of "stay back you thoughtless mob until the musicians have left the stage, thank you"; I think we should do it every concert. Also, people who won't step out of the way when one is attempting to carry an instrument past/around them annoys me greatly as well. I move to the side as much as I can, but they just stand there. I'm not sure what they expect me to do, other than to politely repeat "Excuse me, may I get past?" Gnarr.

All right, now I'm done.

(Originally posted at Owls' Court.)