Concert Reminder!

Tomorrow is Canada Day. And you know what that means: Excellent music!

Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra presents their annual Canada Day Concert
Wednesday July 1, 20h00
St-Joachim church, 2 Ste-Anne St, Pointe-Claire Village
Guest conductor: Stewart Grant
Programme:

Symphony no. 3 - Schubert
Pavane - Fauré
Norwegian Dances - Grieg
English Folk Song Suite - Vaughn Williams

The 211 bus from Lionel-Groulx metro stops at the corner of Sainte-Anne and Lakeshore, a block or two north of the church. Here’s a map to give you a general idea. 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.

Free admission, and open to the general public. The more the merrier!

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General Yayness

Today the latest paycheque for recent freelance services arrived, on top of the provincial tax refund and the usual child assistance cheque earlier this week. I have a very nice deposit to make at the bank after my cello lesson this afternoon. Of course, municipal taxes and the car insurance and registration are also due. It never gets any easier. I handed in my latest assignment yesterday and am taking a month of leave from the freelance gig, because there's two weeks of family vacation wherein I will accomplish nothing even when we are home, and I need to get some work for myself done. Orchestrated is just sitting there and I want it done and gone to make its rounds.

I came home from orchestra last night wired and very awake. Things went really, really well. The rest of the brass section joined us, and as they sit behind us I didn't know they were there till they tuned with the rest of the horns we usually have. I jumped; some of the violins laughed at me. I love having a brass section at Canada Day; it adds such a nice rich texture to the lower tones. Anyway, I was very awake, and didn't get to sleep till after one o'clock. I had a whole blog post written up in my mind but have essentially forgotten it.

I'm really enjoying working with this guest conductor, and I made a point of telling him so last night. Each guest we've had lead us has gotten better and better. I prefer this one the most. I hope the majority of the orchestra votes to accept a fee increase so that we can keep him. I think he's worth it, and our yearly dues are ridiculously low to begin with.

And in other orchestra news, practising problem parts really does make them better. Who'd've known? The only problem is that due to time constraints and prioritization, I don't practise the easier bits, so sometimes we get to places which ought to be easy and I stumble.

Took the boy to the doctor this morning; he's about 38 lbs and 40 inches, two more and an inch more than six months ago, respectively.

Tomorrow night: I buy the 7/8 and it is mine, mine, mine!

Right. Now, lunch.

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Mailbox Glee

HELLO PROVINCIAL TAX REFUND!

(I'm sorry, was I a little loud, there? I'm a bit giddy. Nothing like getting a bit more back from the government than you expected.)

This, plus receiving 4/5ths of the payment for the full-size cello last night, means... buying the 7/8 cello is happening this Friday FOR REALS because I'm no longer missing a couple of hundred dollars. I'll also be plunking a chunk down on the Visa, and then the rest is to be squirrelled away in savings against the rainy famine-not-feast days.

Thank you, world!

Now, if I could just concentrate on getting this assignment finished...

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* The original post at Owls' Court
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In Which She Muses About The End of The Cello Year

Friday night I had my second to last cello lesson of the year. (Not the calendar year, the school year. Yes? Yes.) On the way there I was thinking that it would be nice to just play music. The last few lessons have been really focused on the polishing of technique and they were great, but I wasn't certain I was in the mood for it this time.

(My brain also absented itself as I drove there and took me the way to orchestra instead. I found myself on Donegani wondering what I was doing. Was ten minutes late as a result.)

Anyhow, got there, set up, my teacher asked me what we were doing and I said we'd been putting the final touches on Grenadiers and we'd started prepping Gavotte. She said we'd warm up with the Gavotte prep exercises, so we worked on them, focusing on the minute readjustment of the left elbow necessary to stay in tune, and the release of the first finger guiding the bow to wrap around the string in order to avoid audible string crossings. Then we started playing the C section of Gavotte, then moved to play the whole piece. (Although I played through the A and B sections for fun I hadn't worked them, and evidently I have been playing it much too quickly.) And then we were turning the page and looking at Bourrée, which I hadn't played in, well, a decade, and we worked on similar issues with the addition of one of my banes, maintaining constant bow weight and not doing tiny accents on every new note when I change bow direction. She played with me during both pieces, either doubling my line or playing the cello accompaniment, and we played the whole piece I hadn't prepped, which explained the lack of solid shifting halfway through. I really enjoyed it.

She said I'd handled the things we were addressing well, and I said I was glad, seeing as how I hadn't prepped the Bourrée. She may have forgotten, or mixed me up with another student. Or maybe she was just determined to get me to the end of book 2 before we took our summer break. Whatever the reason, I said that I was glad we'd done what we did; I'd been hoping we wouldn't drill the final phrasing bits of Grenadiers, and was thinking how nice it would be to just play music. She told me to just ask whenever I felt like that; she knows how things get, and she cheerfully accommodates students when they need that kind of lesson. I got it without asking, sort of, and still got to work on technique stuff. The last couple of lessons have been very technical and stop-and-start affairs focusing on single phrases, and sometimes I really get into those. This past lesson wasn't one of those nights, though, so everything worked out just fine.

And so here we are, working on the end of the Suzuki book 2 review. I have my schedule of what pieces to review on what day of the week over the break, and my photocopy of handwritten prep exercises for book 3, and instruction to start messing about with it this summer. It feels like it has arrived somewhat suddenly, although we've been working on it since Thanksgiving interspersed with recital stuff and orchestra stuff. Everything I work on ties in somehow, and lots of what I'm working on in the technical sense is universally applicable.

When I think about the mental list of things I wanted to accomplish through lessons (becoming more familiar with the geography of the finger board, a more solid foundation in theory, improved intonation, a better bow hold, more efficient left hand movement, accurate thumb position, a better vibrato) we've done so much work on most of them. I no longer panic when a conductor uses most solfège terms (although I still can't keep dièse and bémol and bécarre straight, and when someone starts using movable solfège terms I panic because why can't we all just agree that do is C, why does it have to shift to indicate the tonic of whatever key you're in?), my bow grip no longer causes cramps or locking of joints, my left hand can fly all over the place, and I know where notes are in different places with more certainty than ever before. I still trip a lot, and over- or under-shoot shifts, and my wrist keeps trying to reassert its reign over my right arm and lift the damn bow instead of leaving it on the string, but in general, I can tell that my technique has refined by leaps and bounds over the past eight months. And I'm filled with a smug kind of glee to think that I will only get better, and better, and better.

I am so glad that I decided to do this, and so very thankful that my teacher and I seem to fit one another's teaching/learning styles. She charges so little and waves her hand at me when I say that we go overtime pretty much every lesson; apart from the buying of the new cello thing (which is two-thirds covered by the now-confirmed pending sale of the 4/4!) this is very affordable financially, and time-wise is worth it. The discipline and reward are good for me in many different ways.

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* The original post at Owls' Court
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~

Dear 4/4 Cello:

Fifteen years ago I bought you almost new from another student cellist, your only identifying label a small one that says "Made in Hungary." We've seen a lot together, from Twinkle to Scheherazade. I was stunned when luthier after luthier examined you and told me that you were about my age and a high-end intermediate model, not the shlunky new student model I'd been told you were by the previous owner. Over the past fifteen years your sound has developed beautifully, and you're powerful and strong. Your action is easy. Your only prima donna trait is your tendency to demand a new bridge every eighteen months, and really, when you think of what can otherwise go wrong, that's pretty reasonable.

I never knew how huge you were until I handed you to the principal cellist of my chamber orchestra for a moment, and she exclaimed about your width and depth. You were just my cello; that's the way you were. So when I spoke to my new luthier and he measured you, I was surprised to find out that you are in fact an oversized 4/4. I am petite. I always thought people's remarks about how amusing it was to see a tiny person playing a large instrument were generic sorts of comments. Now I wondered if there was something else to it.

After much discussion with my new teacher a year ago, we decided to start trying 7/8s; she said that the smaller size and proportion would positively impact my technique. I felt horrible, like I was cheating on you. I felt even worse when I discovered that it actually was physically easier to play a 7/8; I didn't have a huge chunk of wood in my way when it came to putting my left hand in higher positions and moving my bow arm to play the C string. Even as I searched for a 7/8 whose tone I liked and whose action felt good, I thought I'd never sell you: I would be loyal to the end, whether I bought a second cello or not.

I rented the latest 7/8 for four months to play it exclusively in order to test the playing-better theory. And then last week I brought you upstairs from your lovely exile to play you, to see if there really was a difference. You were almost perfectly in tune, as if you'd been waiting for me.

And you were... harsh. Oh, your action was as easy as I remembered it being -- easier than the 7/8, truth be told -- but your sound was so bright and cutting that I found myself wincing. I remembered how I searched endlessly for the perfect combination of strings to tone down your brightness, to give you the more mellow sound that I craved. The sound that, I must admit, this 7/8 has in creamy, caramel-y spades. I had no physical problem playing you, but I did notice how large you were and how I had to lift my arms more to get around you, which limits the power I can devote to refining the sound I draw from you. You boomed, you were operatic, and... I cringed a bit. Were I a true soloist, your sound would be perfect for me. But I'm not. I'm a small-ensemble, orchestral-section girl. You're... big, in every sense of the word. And I'm small.

I know now that keeping you would be sentimentality, pure and simple. While I can physically handle you, it's just easier with a 7/8. And your sound isn't what I'm looking for. Now that I know I have other options, I'm a bit sad. It was easier when I didn't know any better.

You held my hand through pizzicato, my first shaky bow strokes, in-class group recitals, public recitals, joining my first orchestra, and playing bass in an eclectic cover band. We've experimented with a wide variety of strings and bows. I've given you four new cases over the years. Remember the time I shipped you to Toronto in the baggage car of the train, and the base of the hard case got somehow punched in? I panicked and opened you up right there in the middle of Union Station. And you were fine, laughing at me as if it would take more than whatever happened to hurt you. You have nicks and scratches all over you from minor mishaps over your forty years, and you don't care. You haven't a single wolf, and your balance across your strings and throughout your octaves is beautiful. I've never found your limits.

Come August, I'll list you in local classified ads and hope you find someone who will love you as much as I have, someone who needs your size and your beautifully developed, unique sound. I love you. And I release you.

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* The original post at Owls' Court
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The Recital Report

A triumph! No screw-ups, secure shifts, solid intonation, some pretty damn fine subtle shaping, and oh look, stable bow weight resulting in nice smooth crescendos! Huzzah! The ensemble pieces were good too. In fact, everyone did very well. And I am very proud of the boy who behaved extremely well, but who, alas, fell asleep right before the Star Wars theme that was the thirteen-year-old's choice of solo (just past the halfway mark of the recital). He quite enjoyed what he did hear, however. I am told he played air cello and clapped like a mad thing after the duet.

Summer is going to be very long. I will miss cello. I have another month of lessons to go and almost six weeks of orchestra, but year-end performances are always tinged with melancholy.

And now, I am going to reward myself with a glass of red wine that I saved from the bottle MLG brought to accompany dinner last night.

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Uneven Dress Rehearsal...

... hopefully even recital, right?

This morning we had our dress rehearsal for tomorrow's recital. The ensemble stuff sounded great, except for one piece, which admittedly did sound better once we'd had a break and retuned. Our duet sounded mostly all right (I know hearing notes slightly out of tune is normal for performance, because one's hearing goes hyper-critical) except for the bit where I relaxed in the repeat of the A section. I glanced away from my music, and when I looked back I had no idea where we were. I quickly ran out of what I remembered of the two bars following and had to stop playing until I figured out where my partner was. Very embarrassing; thank goodness it happened at the dress, so it won't happen at the recital itself. We ended up cutting the repeat (which makes sense apart from my gaffe, as the A section is forty bars and quite long enough on its own), which reduces my chances of over-relaxing and losing my place. The other solos sounded terrific. It's going to be a good recital.

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