In Which She Recounts The Synchronous Events That Have Led Her to Consider a 7/8 Cello

Two weeks ago, there was a series of synchronous events. This is not unusual in my life, but it's rare that it happens so obviously. This is a long post, so be forewarned.

One day I woke up and wondered, apparently out of the blue, if playing a 7/8 cello would be better for me. There was absolutely no grounding for this notion; it literally popped into my head one morning. I thought about it for a few days, and decided that if things felt right, I'd ask one of my orchestral colleagues if I could try her 7/8 cello during a break.

I thought about it all the way to the next rehearsal. As we were setting up I asked my section leader if she'd take a look at my cello to confirm if it was laminated or not. She did, and to my surprise it isn't: it's fully carved. She asked about where it was from and when it was made to further confirm, and I told her that it was Hungarian and about forty years old. Then it was certainly carved, she told me.

And then, once she'd handed it back to me and I was setting up to play, she said, "Have you ever thought of trying a 7/8 cello?"

I put down my tuner and looked at her, partly amused, partly astonished.

"I ask because my luthier told me he has one in stock. I have a student who needs a new cello – she put the soundpost through the back [ed: insert wince here] – but I thought of you."

"You know, it's the oddest thing," I said. "I've been thinking about trying a 7/8. I know M. plays one, and I was going to ask her how she likes it, and if she'd mind if I tried it. But won't your student be wanting it?"

"Not for a while," she said, "she has to work out exchange value and repairs with her current luthier, because hers is worthless the way it is now. It will be a few months. And he can always order another one."

"What kind of cello is it – I mean, where was it made? Do you know the price range?" I asked, steeling myself for a cascade of blithely unaffordable numbers.

"Bof, it's Chinese… maybe twelve hundred?" she said.

I blinked and fought the urge to grin madly. Chinese instruments had a bad rap about twenty years ago, but lately they've been dramatically improving in quality. My section leader wouldn't recommend anything that wasn't carved and of decent quality, especially as I've been playing for fifteen years. (In fact, her new cello is a Chinese instrument, with a remodel done by a local luthier.) Any new cello would need a proper set-up by the luthier, and if it's a basic model then we'd need to upgrade pretty much everything to get it to the state I'd need it to be in: tailpiece, endpin, bridge, certainly the strings, possibly the entire fingerboard if planing it isn't good enough… but even then, if it's a good enough instrument, even with five to eight hundred dollars' worth of upgrades it wouldn't even come close my original estimate of what my next instrument would cost. Well, I'd need to find a good bow, too, but I have decent bow-buying luck (my recent at-home bow woes are a different matter entirely!) and so that wouldn't be more than five hundred, I would think. And still the total would come to below what I was expecting to have to pay for my next instrument alone. There's always the trade-in value of my current cello too, although now that I'm seriously thinking about a new one I’m becoming fiercely attached to it, for some silly reason. We've been through a lot in fifteen years and I feel somewhat responsible for it. (I feel the same way about our thirty-five year old family stove that died recently, as if giving it away is some kind of betrayal.)

So my section leader gave me her luthier's card, and told me to call him.

At the break, I moved back and asked my colleague how she liked her 7/8. I knew she had been playing a full-sized one for two or three months while the 7/8 was in the shop, and I wondered how the difference had affected her. M. said that there hadn't been a lot of difference in playing, really; she'd expected to have problems with the spacing and shifting, but had adjusted very quickly, almost intuitively. The one problem she'd had, she said, was with the body of the instrument, about halfway down. There was just more body in the way of her hands and arms. She readily agreed to allow me to sit and play about with it, and handed it to me.

To my astonishment, when I sat down and leaned it against my shoulder, the first thing I felt was that I wanted to hug it. The body was certainly smaller – not so much so that it felt fragile or weak, just more compact. It tucked into my own body better. I ran through a couple of scales, then nudged her sheet music closer and played through some of the troublesome bits of the piece we'd just finished playing.

Every instrument is different, plays differently, feels different under the hands, but this 7/8 felt as if it were co-operating with me, playing with me instead of being played by me. It was neat, and it was compact, and it… well, it fit better. It would be foolish to assume that any 7/8 would function the same way; every instrument has its own personality and quirks. Still, it provided food for thought.

I set it down carefully and went back to my own, picking it up and leaning it against my shoulder. And… I felt claustrophobic. It was huge. I could see immediately what M. had meant by the fuller body getting in the way of the hands. The 4/4 was deeper than the 7/8 had been. There really isn't a lot of difference between a 7/8 and a 4/4, and there's enough variation in the basic sizing anyway that you could find a 4/4 that is petite. True 7/8s are moderately rare and hard to find. The regular body length of a 4/4 cello is about 30" and just under 18" wide, whereas the 7/8 body is about 28.5 to 29" long and 17" wide. Overall it's about an inch and a half shorter than a full-sized cello. But it's not just about the length; it's about the overall proportion. And having played both, one after the other, I could understand that in a way I hadn't really understood before. Even that half-inch or so and the proportional depth makes a noticeable difference. There's no difference in the pitch or power of the sound produced, of course.

"What made you think of mentioning the 7/8 to me?" I asked my section leader when she came back from break.

"I thought it would look better. You're so…" And she gestured with her hands to indicate my petite build. M. is petite too, although I’m slightly taller than she is. I've never considered a 7/8 because I have very long fingers, and long arms and legs for my size, so making my way around the full-size cello has never been a problem for me. When she handed my cello back to me after looking at the top she must have seen how awkward it was in a way she doesn't usually see, sitting next to me.

"If I were to try it," I said, "would you come with me and give me your opinion? I'd pay you your regular lesson fee."

"No no, my dear," she said, "you would bring the cello here, and we would try it out together under real circumstances."

"They would let me do that?" I blurted out, then laughed with her when she said, "But of course!" I never thought anyone would ever trust me enough to let me take a cello home for a trial. (In some ways I still think of myself as a young university student, the one who was deeply scarred by a bad experience with an arrogant and condescending luthier who, I hear, still treats his clients insultingly.) I expect that I'd have to leave a security deposit and prove that my insurance would cover it. Still, it's an option I've never considered because I never thought it possible.

And then a few days ago Erin posted her thoughts about perhaps trying a 7/8. By this point I was already convinced that the universe was trying to tell me something; Erin's mention just made me go "hmm" again.

So this morning I e-mailed the luthier, querying him about the 7/8 he had in stock. It can't hurt to try it when I have a life again in mid-April. If it feels and sounds wrong, then that's that. But ignoring the universe when it seems to be jumping up and down and trying to attract my attention about something would feel ungrateful. This may lead to something entirely different, or to nothing at all, which would be fine; I’m not in a hurry, or in dire need of a new cello. We can take our time. We'll see.

(Originally posted to my main journal Owls' Court.)

Self-Confessed Music Addict

I just upgraded my eMusic account from basic to plus, and now I can download 50 tracks a month for $14.99. That only five extra dollars for twenty more tracks, and at the rate I've been queueing albums for download I wasn't going to get some of them until five months from now. And I'm still paying less than what I'd pay for a single physical CD for what essentially amounts to five albums' worth of music.

Now I can have the Erik Friedlander I want for this trip. And I can download all three discs of the Matt Haimovitz Bach solo suites, too!

I don't remember the last physical CD I bought in a store. So much of what I want isn't available through regular channels, or would take months to obtain, or would cost a ridiculous amount of money. (Oh wait, it was Danny Elfman's Serenada Schizophrenia, and I don't remember buying it in a store because t! ordered a copy for me via one of his music business contacts.) I really like the option of being able to download selected tracks from an album, too. The one frustrating thing is that some of the artists I hear and want to try out, or buy an album from, aren't available via eMusic (yet, or whatever).

Cello Hero?

So it seems that cellists may have an edge when playing Guitar Hero:

On the whole, a musical background seems to help Guitar Hero players. Zach Whitsell’s mother, Betty Whitsell, said her son has played violin, cello and saxophone in the past.

Ming Cheng, a 17-year cello player, said he was able to play the game on the medium level in the store before purchasing the game. He placed fourth in the 16-and-up age bracket on Saturday.

Cello players might have an advantage in the game, Cheng said. He explained that the spacing between the buttons on the controller is almost identical to the spacing between fingers on the strings of a cello.

“It keeps my fingers in shape for cello,” Cheng said. “I don’t have to practice as much.”

Except:

[Guitar player] Bloomfield is able to strum the notes up and down, which helps boost speed, Cheng said.

“I normally only strum down,” he said. “It’s more accurate, but I get tired faster.”

Which is a problem I have encountered myself. So when I saw this really interesting video called 'Taking Trips to America' promoting the album Block Ice and Propane by cellist jazz alternative musician composer-type person Erik Friedlander yesterday, I was fascinated. Don't miss the video of Erik performing 'Yakima' at the bottom of the page.

In Which She Gives A Bow Report, And Is Somewhat Astonished At Her Proficiency

Last night after Liam went to bed, I sat down and played the cello for seventy-five minutes. I had no idea time was flying the way it was.

Late that afternoon while the boy was playing with cars and trains I had sat down to page through one of my copies of the six solo cello suites by Bach, looking for something new to play. I thought I'd try the first movement of the sixth. I was fine for the first two systems and then things started sounding not quite right, so I put it aside and made dinner. When I came back to it I tried it again and it still didn't work. And then I looked more closely at the clef. I'd assumed it was tenor, but something began to nibble at the edges of my mind, so I turned and pulled out my other edition with the facsimile manuscript opposite the printed page. Sure enough -- the edition I'd been reading from was set in alto clef, instead of putting it in the more familiar-to-cellists tenor clef. (The facsimile looks like it's in alto too, which would make sense as it wasn't written for a regular cello.) What I had assumed was tenor was actually alto. No wonder things sounded odd.

And then I looked at the rest of the piece and saw three pages of alto clef moving into treble clef and said to myself, Self, this is just going to frustrate you. So I paged back to look for something else to play and found the Gigue of the third suite, which I'd never played before. (I haven't played most of the solo suites, actually. Half of the first and one or two bits of the second is all, really.)

And I played it pretty much off the top of my head.

I stumbled in two places and worked them for a while, because they're theoretically simple but my intonation was wonky because I wanted to play in higher positions to avoid an open A string (bars 50-58 and 104-106, if anyone's counting) and my shifts weren't secure when I sight-read it. And if I'm in a position I want to stay there as long as possible, so I ended up making fingerings up for the surrounding bars too. Then I played it a few times over because it sounded good, really good, and it was welcome balm for my self-esteem. When I tired of it I moved to playing the two trouble spots in the Faure Pavane (again, if anyone's counting, bars 62-63 and 69-73, the phrases where the celli are supposed to sound soft and beautiful but not like they're working at shifting at all, argh) and worked out yet another set of fingerings that may actually succeed this time.

It felt so wonderful to be able to just sit down and play something I'd never played before, and to hear it sound good. My tone was nice, sound production was good, shifting was pretty secure (except in bars 104-106 of the Bach, damn it, where I begin in first, shift to fifth to play the A, then shift down to fourth on the B flat of the following bar -- it's the shift from fifth to fourth that is usually not far enough, or I get frustrated, overcompensate, and shift too much), and everything felt right.

I really like working with this remodelled bow. I was playing with a full practice mute and it still made the strings ring very nicely. It makes the Gigue and the Pavane really sing. Wednesday night at orchestra my hand cramped a wee bit near the end of the evening because the frog and stick are slightly larger than my previous primary bow and I was still getting used to adjusting my grip to it, but apart from making minute adjustments for the heavier weight needing less speed at certain places, especially in both Pavanes, it went well. I had no problem with it at all last night. I like it a lot, and I'm going to keep working with it as my new primary bow. I showed our section leader at rehearsal and she was somewhat impressed, I think, at how successful the remodel had been, lifting an eyebrow in mild surprise (but not horror!) when I told her my husband had done it. It's still on the heavier end of the scale, but it's much better balanced and easier to handle. She ran it through some spectacular quick exercises that made me wish I could just throw things like that off. Someday, perhaps.

I've been toying with the idea of maybe starting lessons again this summer. It would be a better use of my money than a new instrument at this point.

Concert Announcement!

Yes, gentle readers, the time has come again to make plans to attend the Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra spring concert! Every spring we present a lively and soul-uplifting concert to celebrate the arrival of the season (or advent, or the invocation of said season in this particular case, ahem).

This year's concert to celebrate/invoke/present an impassioned petition to spring presents a selection of French dance-themed music, some well-known, others perhaps a delightful discovery for you. The programme includes:

Overture to The Caliph of Baghdad by Boieldieu
Pavane pour une infante défunte by Ravel
Aires de danse dans le style ancien from Le roi s'amuse by Delibes
Pavane, op. 50 by Fauré
Symphony no. 1 by Gounod

The concert takes place on Saturday April 5, 2008 at 19h30, and will be presented at Cedar Park United Church at 204 Lakeview Ave, Pointe-Claire, QC (corner St. John's Blvd). Admission is $10, children under 18 attend free of charge.

Directions via public transport may be found here. If you're driving, take St. John's Blvd south from either autoroute 40 or 20. Lakeview is one street south of autoroute 20; the church is on the south-west corner of the intersection, with a parking lot on the west side. Here's a map to help you find your way.

Did I mention that we have a guest mandolin player? We have a guest mandolin player. Intriguing, yes?

So mark your calendars, and make a date with friends and family to share a wonderful evening of music and camaraderie. And maybe, just maybe, it will feel a little more like spring when we're through.

Experiments in Bowmaking

The frog of my main bow cracked last fall as a result of a small boy-related incident. I filled the crack with Krazy Glue and it's been fine so far. I know, I know; purists are shuddering. I paid about $150 for this bow; it would likely cost me about that much to have the frog replaced. And I love this bow; the balance is perfect, the weight is perfect, and I don't want to buy a new one.

Except with the spring concert coming up, I'm starting to worry about the crack, and have visions of the thing giving way during performance. My only usable back-up bow is a really heavy one that hurts my hand because the balance is off. Or rather, it was off.

Last night I took it to HRH and asked if he'd be able to shave some of the wood off the head and gradually extend the taper of the upper half of the stick further towards the middle. As it was, the taper went abruptly from a very thick stick to a much thinner section about three inches long at the tip. He said that while he could do it, he'd be uncomfortable because he'd be worried about breaking or ruining it. In return I pointed out that I'd only paid $80 for it, and to have the reshaping done professionally would cost more than that. Also, I still had my main bow, and so if this backup one was to be broken it wouldn't be a tragedy.

So we took it downstairs and he set up the Dremel. In half an hour we had carefully reshaped the head and upper half of the stick beautifully. It's lighter and better balanced, and the head is much more elegant than it was originally; it was very blocky before the remodelling. When I was happy with the weight, the balance, and the tapering along to the middle of the stick he buffed it, then I oiled it. Then came the final test: I sat down to try it out on the cello. To my satisfaction it travels well, and the balance is miles and away better than it had been. The fulcrum point is now a third of the way along from the frog end, where it's supposed to be, instead of halfway along the stick. I no longer feel like my hand is going to fall off or cramp up from fighting gravity when I hold it. I'm going to use it as my primary bow at rehearsal tonight and see what happens.

Daring, but successful. I'd never have tried it with a more expensive or precious bow. It makes me wonder what we could do with a bow blank, a frog, the facings and screws, and a hank of bow hair. It would be interesting to make my own bow.

~ Originally posted at Owls' Court.

Introductory Post

This is a parallel blog to my main blog at Owls' Court. This one will reproduce my cello- and music-themed posts. If I figure out how to import all my older posts in those categories then I'll do that as well, although I suspect Blogger can't do that. In the meantime, here are the direct links to my previous and ongoing posts in these categories:

Cello category

Music category