The State of Autumn

Pretty wiped, actually. Very languid. Not much energy at all. I think it's partially due to the weather (How much more damp can it get? Can it just rain properly, already? It feels like we're walking through mist all the time, the air is so wet.), partially due to the intense rehearsals and lack of sleep after them (I'm doing the skating through light sleep cycles thing and waking up a lot these days), and partially due to something I haven't quite figured out yet. Plus there's that kid who lives here who gets cranky in high heat or humidity, loses his appetite, and sleeps abysmally. He's been getting up at five-thirty in the morning, and didn't nap at all yesterday.

We went out to the luthier this morning and I picked up the new 7/8 cello he received for a two week home trial. (I have to take it back on my birthday. How depressing is that?) I played it for half an hour straight after the boy went down for his nap, and, well, I don't know. I liked the first one better; I think it sounded a bit more mellow. (Oh, how I wish I'd had the idea of recording them when I tried it back in May!) The colour on this one is more orangey-red, kind of a deeper version of the one I have now. I preferred the brown-amber of the first one. It has nice resonance, and is easy to play, and feels all right under my fingertips. I haven't tried the bow yet; I used my own. I'm just not completely in love with it the way I was with the first one. I am, however, completely in love with the soft case it comes with (three handles, including a double handle on the side to carry it like a suitcase! Lots of pockets! Padded straps! So well padded overall that it almost stands up on its own! Extra padding around the bridge! And I got to see an Eastman hard case, the one with wheels, which was so light I thought I was dreaming. It too had multiple handles. I was having a geeky day, evidently, to be so impressed by multiple handles. I also got to see the finish in person, which was important, because all the photos I've seen of them made me very wary, as the finish is pebbled and looks almost iridescent. This one was blue, and while I'd prefer a deep green (but they don't make a darker one) or an ivory or black, I could live with the blue if I had to. Mind you, if I'm going to drop $500 on a hard case, I'll darn well get them to order the colour I want, thanks. (Oooh! The Z-tek Deluxe model is now available in dark emerald green! Hmm. Duly noted.)

It feels a tiny bit bigger than the last one, too. But then, I didn't switch between the 7/8 and my full-sized cello when I played it, like I did the last time. I checked the windings: it's strung with a Helicore C and G, and Larsen D and A strings. It has a really deeply arched back, too.

The A doesn't blend as well as the last one did. But that's something that can be adjusted by poking the soundpost. It's certainly resonant. I'll post more notes as I play with it over the next couple of weeks.

People requested pictures. Here's a shot of the two cellos side by side, so you can see the difference in size and proportion.



(Slightly condensed from the original post at Owls' Court.)

In Which She Muses Upon The Importance Of Contrasting Musical Approaches

We had a guest conductor in to handle the first half of Wednesday's rehearsal, as our conductor was off at his own retirement dinner. (Or I may have misunderstood and it was someone else's retirement. Whatever: he was not there, being otherwise engaged in dining to celebrate someone's retirement.) The guest conductor's first name was Peter, although I missed his last name.

He was brilliant.

We worked on the 32nd symphony, and he was fantastic. He had us really work on the musicality of the piece, asking for different sounds, talking about how the parts worked with/against one another, how the dynamics were crucial. He was a violinist, and so now and again he'd grab his violin and demonstrate the sounds or the phrasing he was looking for. He used simile, metaphor, and humour to get us to understand how to produce the sounds he was asking us to do. (He told the celli we sounded like a nail gun at one point, and although we all laughed we knew exactly what he meant, and proceeded to shape the repeated eighth notes in a particular cycle as he requested.) And it worked, it all worked. He had us sounding tight and focused and blended. Ultimately, what he had us work on was the emotion of the piece, something that's hard to focus on by yourself in a large ensemble. The first half of the evening flew by until he suddenly looked at the time and said we had to stop. The orchestra broke into spontaneous applause for him, and the first question asked was, "Where do you conduct?" He admitted that he didn't, but that he did coach.

Now, none of this implies that our regular maestro isn't a good conductor: Douglas has done fabulous things for us in the past five years, introducing new styles of music, broadening our scope, and pulling a new sound out of us. What Wednesday night demonstrated to me was that having a fresh leader and a different spin on the music made us think about how we play it in a different way. It's kind of like how running your writing past a fresh set of eyes helps you understand it differently. I wonder what having a guest conductor in a rehearsal now and again on a regular basis would do for us. By addressing different details, Peter gave us a new understanding of the piece, and I really hope we can carry it over to the other pieces we play. It's not enough to just play what's there; we have to give it personality as well. We've been trying to focus interpretation in our section by emphasizing certain things, making repeated phrases after the second time, leaning on certain beats and so forth, but we can't make it happen everywhere. There was a complaint in our section that our principal was complicating the music and we should just stick to what was written down, but there's so much missing if you just follow the bare notes. Interpretation and style are crucial. I'm glad Peter demonstrated that the entire orchestra could do it, and make the music sound extraordinary.

Our principal had to leave at the break; I won’t see her again until next fall. Simply sitting next to her has helped me so much this past season. It meant that in the second half I sat alone, and I have been very bad and not learned the principal’s solo in the My Fair Lady medley, so when it was suddenly there I stalled. Fortunately the man who sits behind the principal played through it, and I gave him a grateful smile. Everything else I handled pretty well, except the transition into “Edelweiss” in the Sound of Music medley, where the celli have the theme, and all of us stumbled. The transitions are nasty things in medleys; usually the key and the beat both change, and you have to go right into it. And for some reason my fingerings weren’t intuitive for me. I mean, they are intuitive in that if I remember where I have to go they work, but if I blank and just stare at the number (as I did Wednesday night) I’m lost. I’m thankful I’d reviewed all the musicals over the week at home (shock, surprise! I actually had time to practice!), otherwise I’d have really disgraced myself. I managed to be the only cello to carry on in a couple of odd places, too. Go me.

Three more rehearsals — next Wednesday, an extra one next Friday night, the dress the following Monday — and then the concert on the Tuesday. And then no orchestra until September again. This season has flown by. I’ll miss it a lot.

(Originally posted at Owls' Court.)

Ill-Timed

Having finished my work assignment by noon, then having handled a bunch of lingering accounting stuff, I read a book and then sat down to mess about with the cello.

I have been in the mood to go back and explore a Rudolph Matz suite I bought ages ago called Lights and Shadows. Except I can't find it anywhere. And I realised as I searched for it again today that I hadn't seen it since I packed the last apartment. I have concluded that it seems to have mysteriously vanished between there and here, along with my copy of the sheet music for "May It Be" (which isn't anywhere near as great a loss). I haven't misplaced anything else, only those two pieces.

So since I worked on the musical stuff for the concert last night, today I played some Bach suites instead, then fiddled around with some old band stuff for the heck of it. I came up with a new fingering for the miniature bass-drum duet-solo-thingy in "Till My Head Falls Off" and wondered why I hadn't thought of it before because it was so blindingly obvious. I worked on "J'veux pas viellir" and cursed the freaking solo again. There's an ugly bit that no matter what I do, it doesn't sound good. But apart from that bit I polished the delivery and decided that should I ever play this again in performance, I'm making it completely legato, original be damned. (Heck, I've already messed with it by transposing and rewriting parts of it, why not make the cheerful heresy complete?) I think something a lot more flowing and resonant would sound better than the choppy staccato stuff. Staying close to the original is boring anyway (says the girl who hacked and hacked and hacked at "The Bonny Swans" and eventually settled on something that kind of sort of sounded like something Loreena McKennitt might have done in a studio once, and whose compatriots in musical crime gave songs such as "First We Take Manhattan" and "Insensitive" drastic makeovers).

But through it all, there was a part of my mind today that was saying, "Hey, you know, this instrument has really mellowed over the past couple of years. I really enjoy this sound."

And then I found the hole.

The seam between the back and the rib between the upper and lower bouts on the right side is starting to separate. It's not a real hole yet, but it will be as the gap continues to widen. At the moment there a millimetre of space between the two, held together with bits of varnish.

Wow, is this ever a bad, bad time for this to happen.

Fixing this will cost as much as, or possibly more than, that lateral move to the 7/8. It's the same position our station wagon was in: the repairs it needed would cost more than the value of the vehicle itself. Repairing this cello won't increase its value, so it's like sinking money into a black hole when I could be putting the capital towards the new cello instead. Since I haven't the money now to replace it, nor is the 7/8 I wanted currently available, I just have to be extra super obsessively careful with this one until the concert is over. And pray a lot.

(Originally posted on Owls' Court.)

Canada Day Concert!

This is your two-week warning, faithful orchestra groupies. July 1 is coming up, which means that the annual Canada Day concert presented by the Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra is also nigh!

On Tuesday July 1 the Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra will be giving a free (yes, free!) concert as part of the overall Canada Day celebrations in conjunction with Pointe-Claire Village. We do this every year, and it’s always terrific fun.

This year’s programme features:

Symphony no. 3 - Mozart
Overture to The Marriage of Figaro - Mozart
Symphony no. 32 - Mozart
Selections from South Pacific - Richard Rodgers
Selections from My Fair Lady - Frederick Loewe
Selections from The Sound of Music - Richard Rodgers

The concert begins at 20h00. As always, it is being presented at St-Joachim church in Pointe-Claire Village, located right on the waterfront at 2 Ste-Anne Street, a block and a half south of Lakeshore Road. The 211 bus from Lionel-Groulx metro drops you right at the corner of Sainte-Anne and Lakeshore. Here’s a map to give you a general idea. I usually encourage those facing public transport to get together and coax a vehicle-enabled friend along by offering to buy them an ice cream or something. It works nicely, and it’s fun to go with a group. And hey, you can’t beat the price. Be aware that if you’re driving, parking will be at a premium because of the whole Canada Day festivities thing going on. Give yourself extra time to find a parking place and walk to the church, which will be packed with people.

Free classical music! Soul-enriching culture! And as an enticing bonus, the fireworks are scheduled for ten PM, right after we finish, and the church steps are a glorious spot from which to watch them.

Write it on your calendar, tell all your friends and family members! The more the merrier!

(Originally posted on Owls' Court.)

A Sudden Abundance Of Live Music, And Thoughts Deriving From It

I'm tired, but there are things worthy of noting.

Invisible completely and totally rocked the house on Friday night, with a double set and a terrific cohesive sound. Every one of them keeps getting better and better. There was much dancing, and I don't normally dance. There was much singing as well, and I hope I didn't drive Jan too crazy with it. It was terrific to see people I haven't seen in forever, too. Also, I had a very good margarita. "You really seemed to be enjoying yourself," HRH said on the way home. "I think it's important to obviously demonstrate to a performer that you appreciate what they're doing," I said. "There's nothing worse than being on stage and seeing a sea of dead expressions in front of you, applause or not." Sure, I could have sat there unmoving and enjoyed myself just as much, but the music was good and it moved and what the guys were doing on stage for us moved me.

Did I miss being on stage? Yes. But not enough to throw myself back into band. I miss the times when it was going well. Unfortunately, it doesn't go well most of the time. I miss it when we're actually making music, not talking about unrelated things or wasting time. I certainly don't miss the amount of energy that went into it. Or rather, I prefer to have that energy to put into other things, like living my day to day life (thank you so very much, fibromyalgia). I'd like to get back into band someday. Someday is not soon, however. We'll all be different people somewhere down the line and that will make a positive difference as well. I'd like to explore other kinds of music in a small ensemble too, at some point, with different people.

The evening before I enjoyed my friend Marc's vocal recital, presented by all his teacher's students. (Live music two nights in a row! I don't think I'm greedy, just starved for culture.) There were about half a dozen of them and they all sang three songs, ranging from Broadway to pop to chamber songs and opera arias. It was great, and I saw a handful of the people who I would see again the next night, but in an even more relaxed atmosphere. We kibbutzed outside for an hour after the show was over, and that was just as wonderful as the recital itself, in a different way. I took a moment to look around both on Thursday and Friday night, and saw people with whom I'd stayed in touch for fifteen to twenty years as well as those I'd met within the last ten or so. I really miss my friends, and it was felt really, really good to be with them.

There's this quirk that I have: My eyes tear up suddenly when I'm really enjoying something musical. It doesn't mean I'm particularly sad or happy or overcome by what the music is communicating. It actually has more to do with appreciating the fact that the performer is offering something, similar to what I outlined above. Marc was the first one up at the recital, a position that carries a lot of responsibility, and he sang "On the Street Where You Live" from My Fair Lady. About a third of the way through the first verse I had that tearing-up response, and I thought about what was happening. I was experiencing a surge of emotion, not as a response to the music but a response to what Marc was doing: he was reaching out to his listeners and offering them something, and I was moved by it. It seems to be an empathic response. It's not in response to the words, or the music itself. It's in response to the performer. It does have an emotional connection, of course, but it's not primarily an emotional reaction.

This happens when I imagine performing myself. It doesn't happen while I'm actually performing (or it does, but extremely rarely); rather, it happens when I visualise performing certain pieces of music. I have a very strong ability to visualise, and I invest a lot of emotion into it. It's one of the ways I practise when I can't be at my instrument. I'm also very good at imagining several different lines of music simultaneously, including my own line. (I think this is one of the reasons why I love working in an orchestral setting so much, and also one of the reasons why I get frustrated very easily in small ensembles without a coach; it's hard for real performers to live up to what's happening in my head.) In these cases, my response seems to be connected to the visualisation of the joint act of the performers in the ensemble reaching out to the audience. And this too may be one of the reasons I was dissatisfied with band: I very rarely felt that reaching out-ness happening, or a sense of the audience being moved by what we were offering. There was a lot of struggle that never felt like it resolved or settled into an actual delivery of something.

I've thought about this response a lot, and I still can't quite put it into the right words. There's something about the simultaneous identification with the performer as well as being an audience too, but I can't pin it down yet. There's also something about receiving and returning energy, which I know I've talked about before in lectures and discussion and very likely at some point in this journal as well.

I don't have the opportunity to experience live music as an audience member very much, so this past week has been extremely precious to me. I'm very proud of everyone who performed, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I hope they all know that. And I hope that somehow I managed to communicate that I appreciated what they offered.

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