Showing posts with label luthier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label luthier. Show all posts

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Astonishing

So I took the 7/8 in to the luthier last night (and was twenty minutes late, thank you every single red light on de la Verendrye) and talked about the kind of sound I was looking for. I played it for him and he agreed that the C string was a little mou (which would translate to 'soft' or 'mooshy' [not 'mushy,' totally different!] or some such thing, but in English those infer touch rather than quality of sound). He put the cello across his lap and WHACKED THE BRIDGE a few times.

Yeah. But he's a professional, so he can get away with it. Also, he was probably using some Jedi Luthier Techniques or something, which means there was More Going On than just whacking it.

And he gave it back to me, and my gods, it was like a different cello.

Then he said, "Hmm, the A is a little timide." And he asked what that would be in English and I said the direct translation was 'timid,' but again, it didn't convey the quality he was looking for. I would have said 'reserved.' So he put the cello across his lap again and inserted the fancy swirly crowbar that is the soundpost-adjuster, adjusted the soundpost, and gave it back to me to play. And my gods, it was yet again a different cello. The lower strings are more focused, everything is more balanced, and yes, the projection has improved overall as well. (Not a lot of the latter, but hey, it's a student cello.)

I am very pleased.

I signed a two-month contract for rental, paid the fees, and walked out with it. Now it becomes my primary cello so as to really work it and see if the size difference actually does make a positive impact on my technique.

I realised this morning that I haven't even looked at my lesson material over the past insane work-week, which is moderately problematic because (a) I have cello lesson in an hour, and (b) there was an entirely new piece that I haven't even played through yet, but I suspect my teacher will be understanding because I worked my orchestra stuff instead. (Good grief -- the Hebrides overture, the Arlesienne treble clef celli solo in the 'Carillon,' and the Risky-Korsakov; they will kill me.)

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

Saturday, October 25, 2008

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
~

Monday, September 22, 2008

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
~

Sunday, September 7, 2008

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
~

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

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.)

Saturday, May 31, 2008

...

I finally got through to the luthier this morning. The 7/8 I was going to book for a week-long home trial sold last week.

Olivier has promised to order another one in for me to try. He has no idea when he'll have it, though.

I'm either numb or unmoved by it. A bit disappointed, but mainly because I'd made sure my principal was going to be at orchestra this coming week to look at it. Now I won't be able to run it by her until September. But then, I'm not having much of an emotional reaction to anything these days. I'm really run down and I just don't have the energy.

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

Saturday, May 10, 2008

7/8 Adventure

This morning I went to Longeuil to test the 7/8 cello the new luthier had called about. I want to get all this down while it's still fresh in my mind.

It is indeed an Eastman model 100, which is the higher-quality basic student model Eastman offers. Eastman is Chinese-made and finished/set up by the luthier. The website says "Entirely hand-carved from solid tonewoods; Spruce top and maple back, ribs, and scroll; Ebony pegs and fingerboard; Attractive and durable amber-brown varnish", which pretty much covers it. It has an absolutely lovely warm golden brown varnish with amber highlights, sort of a chocolate caramel glow to it all. It has a silky finish, and a very feminine neck; I don't know how else to describe it. It's daintier than mine. In fact, when we'd installed ourselves in the practice room, I immediately took my cello out to lay it down next to the 7/8 and the difference in size was astonishing. The neck was significantly shorter, there was about an inch and a half of difference in body length, although the width was only a quarter-inch different. Depth-wise, the 7/8 was about a half-inch smaller.

Sound-wise, it's warm and mellow and silky. The G string is a bit buzzy, but that can be adjusted. It's currently strung with Helicores, a brand that most luthiers have tried to sell to me, and now I can see why: they're velvety under the fingers and soft to play on. The tension is lower than my current Evah Pirazzis are. The sound is even and balanced across all four strings, and what I absolutely loved was that I couldn't tell I was playing an open A string. My cello has that nasal open A; this one was just like all the other notes. The dynamics seem to respond well, but this is what I need another cellist to hear it for: there's a world of difference between sitting behind it and hearing it from the front. Same with the projection. HRH said he could hear mine more clearly, but this is where his hearing problem might adversely affect the evaluation: mine has a sharper projection, the 7/8 was warmer and buttery, so he couldn't hear it as well. I preferred the 7/8's sound, but that may be the novelty of it, and I was in an unfamiliar room. It took almost no right arm power at all to draw sound out of it. It felt as if the bow was gliding along the strings instead of dragging them.

Physically, it felt like it fit better in the curve of my body, just as I'd felt when playing M's 7/8 last month. The bridge and fingerboard were less arched than mine, so I kept bumping strings when I tried to cross. I'm used to making larger movements. The scroll sat almost on my shoulder, something else I'd have to get used to. It's so easy to play; I can see how it would be less tiring to play it for long periods of time.

HRH and the boy were with me, and the first thing I played was 'ZYX' from TMBG's Here Come the ABCs album, after which the boy applauded enthusiastically. Of course, he applauded after scales and the E flat major runs from Mozart's third symphony too before he got restless and HRH took him outside to play. Wonderful for the ego. I played through some of the Gounod Symphony no. 1, and never got around to Valse Triste or the arpeggio exercises I'd packed.

It wasn't an immediate "Oh I love it!" sort of thing. I like it, and it's very comfortable to play, but it would be a sort of lateral trade. I was hoping to trade up, but one of the things the luthier told me was that he's looked at other models, and that in his opinion after this kind of quality the next real step up is the Wilhelm Klier 7/8, which runs between $6000 and $7000. He said that if I really wanted him to he would order a 200 or 305 Eastman model, but that the difference in quality was really only going to be negligible and the price higher.

I need to take a moment and say how much the luthier himself impressed me. First of all, he was fluently bilingual, and didn't make me feel as if I was beneath his notice. It was the luthier himself who sat with me and talked to me about the cello, not an assistant or a salesperson. And being much more confident in my people-judging skills now than I was fifteen years ago, I can say with confidence that he is one of the most honest businesspeople I have met. He's one of those rare people who wants the best for a client, not what will turn him the most profit. He listened to me, took my comments seriously, and addressed concerns capably and reassuringly. And in turn I was very honest with him, and told him I was going to take my time, but that he'd already gained me as a client because I would bring my cello to him for its tune-up at the end of the month. (He did a quick exam and agreed that the bridge needed changing, and when I mentioned that it was greedy and needed a new one every two years or so he frowned and peeked inside, took an internal measurement or two, and said to himself "Yes, and that's why" although he didn't elaborate; I got the feeling there's an adjustment out of whack). In the end, he didn't want to sell me something or push me into making a decision I wasn't comfortable with; he wanted to make sure I was going to end up with something that was right for me, whatever and whenever that was going to be.

The tentative plan at the moment is to talk to the principal cellist at orchestra, who originally told me about this luthier, and line up a date when I know she'll be at rehearsal (or perhaps a single lesson date at her house, as she's not playing in the Canada Day concert). Then I'll sign the 7/8 out for a week or two, and let her pick it over and listen to it, and play it for me so I can hear it from the other side, as well as playing it at home myself. The trial period is unreal in its honesty and simplicity: all one does is sign a contract agreeing that the instrument is in my care and is my responsibility while anything happens to when I'm in possession of it. No security deposit; my cello doesn't get left as collateral; nothing. If this 7/8 sells before I can take it home on trial or decide to buy it, he will order another one for me.

Before I could bring it up he also asked if I would be open to looking at smaller 4/4 cellos. I agreed immediately, and he went on to say that when he saw me take mine out he had been astonished, and immediately understood why my principal cellist had remarked on it: it's larger than normal. It's a big, boxy cello, square across the shoulders and wide across the bottom. So not only am I petite, my damn instrument is oversized. (Ah, the sweet taste of irony. Is anyone else rolling their eyes?) He took the full measurements to have them on file and confirmed that it was on the large side. He pointed out the difference in the necks especially. My current one is thick; the 7/8 is much slimmer depth-wise and width-wise, and it's not just because of the proportion. So as he comes across smaller 4/4s he'll call me. He said he'd order in a Wilhelm Klier for me too if I really wanted to try it, no strings attached (no pun intended!), but I passed. There are other places that $7000 needs to go.

What else, what else? We talked about the honeymoon period and both the instrument and musician settling in with one another's quirks. We talked about playing lots of double stops in the sweet spot once it had been found to help vibrate the body and loosen it up to help everything become even mellower. Half a year after a new cello a new bow, probably, because as I know it's useless to buy a new bow if you're about to buy a new instrument. He looked at my current bow and liked the flexibility of the stick, sympathised with the cracked frog, and agreed that replacing the frog wasn't cost-effective. He guarantees all adjustments and repairs (beyond regular-use wear and strings, of course) for a whole year. If the instrument develops dry cracks or separates along a seam, for example, he will repair it or order a replacement if the repairs wouldn't absolutely solve the problem.

He asked what I would do with my current one, and we discussed selling privately versus through consignment at the shop, and even the option of not selling it at all and keeping it as a second or gigging instrument. This one's seen battle, after all, and the trade-in value may not be worth it. I would be extremely hesitant about bringing the delicate 7/8 into a gig situation, and when I explained he said immediately, "I understand." (Nice ringing G and C for the opening of 'Rock'n'Roll Radio', by the way! I forgot to try anything else, but next time I'll run through 'J'veux pas viellier' and 'Wheat Kings', both of which have the tricky C on the G string that my cello swallows up.) He also warned me that I wouldn't recoup much of what I'd paid for it, as instruments of similar quality are going for much less these days. This was what I'd expected.

I forgot to buy rosin, but I will when I take it in in two weeks for the bridge replacement and fingerboard adjustment. I pointed out a scratch on the side of the fingerboard around where the neck joins the body and asked if it was a crack or just a surface scratch; he sanded it lightly and said it was a crack, but he would fill it in when he adjusted the fingerboard.

I have never been treated so personally and directly in a luthier's shop before. I like that he spoke to me very honestly about what had to be done and didn't gloss over anything. He was direct and open, and at no time did I feel pressured or patronised. It may have had something to do with how young he was; I don't know. I feel like we're going into this new cello search together, instead of me trailing behind him as he holds forth on what is good or bad, talks down to me, or makes decisions about what I need without talking to me.

Now what I need to do is make a list of pros and cons about the 7/8 versus my current full-size cello. It would be a lateral trade, but I wonder if it might not net me a more enjoyable playing experience in the long run. I know how mine reacts, and I know that I can play it, but if it comes down to playability, comfort, and evenness of sound I might turn to the 7/8. The fibro's not going to get any better, so smaller movements and less energy required to create sound might be a good thing in that respect too. There's no rush. I can take my time.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Eeeeee!

The new luthier just called! There's a 7/8 cello that just arrived in the South Shore workshop! The price is hilariously low, which leads me to suspect that it might be very entry-level, which isn't what I want, but I'll check it out anyhow to be sure. I have a tentative appointment to go try it out Saturday morning.

I was looking at mine today thinking that it needed a new bridge and so forth. I'll be taking it with me, of course, so I'll ask what the cost of replacing that might be while I'm there. And I will type out that I need new rosin, so maybe I won't forget to pick that up too.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

7/8 Followup

The new luthier just sent me an e-mail saying that he'd have his hands on the 7/8s as soon as his dealer could get them to him, and he'll contact me when they arrive.

Hurrah!