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
~

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
~

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
~

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
~

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.