A Vague Cello Update

I missed a week of orchestra and a cello lesson while I was away, and my lesson this weekend has also been cancelled because my teacher is out of town for her birthday. I have no problem with that; I will just work on my Bach gavotte on my own. I will turn it into a celloy operatic aria, and surprise my teacher when we finally do get together again at the beginning of May. (May! Good grief.)

We had a group lesson on Sunday, where only half the older students could make it (the younger ones have their own group lesson just before we do). It was pretty focused, though, and things are starting to come together. My teacher ended up deciding to transpose the accompaniment for one of the quartet pieces, so I'm transposing it on my own, something I do because I think it will be good for me, but I'm always worried I will make tonnes of mistakes.

This past rehearsal at orchestra we went in early. There is a Beaver colony that meets in the church basement right before we use it, and they arranged for us to do a presentation for them. It was a lot of fun. They had a basic intro before we got there, and a chance to explore the timpani, then they coloured some handouts while we all set up. Our conductor introduced the instruments one by one, having the principal of each section play the first phrase of "Twinkle" so the boys could hear how they sounded different. Then we played the first half of the first movement of the Haydn Symphony 83 that we'd done for the last concert so they could listen for the chicken theme, and after that we played one of our new pieces, Elgar's Pomp & Circumstance march no. 4. It was very enjoyable; they were bright and responsive. When things were breaking up at the end their leader told us that they were the biggest group in the West Island; other colonies had between five and ten kids, but they had thirty! "I like to think it's our great programming," he said.

Then we spent the entire night on the first movement of the Mendelssohn, with a play-through of the second movement at the end. Lots of really hard work. Our conductor assures us that the first movement is the hardest thing in the concert. If pressed to name a favourite symphony of all time, I would have to say it is this one, Mendelssohn's Reformation symphony, so I am loving every single moment of this. Playing a piece of music in orchestra means I get to break music down and visit it from the inside out, something that adds infinite richness to my enjoyment of the music both on the stand and via a CD player, and I'm so incredibly thrilled to have the opportunity to do that with this piece.

My back was murderously painful, though. Stacking wooden chairs that slant backwards are not optimal for a cello payer to begin with, but my lower back was moderately screwed up thanks to two train rides and a week of sleeping in a bed not my own. I stretched it out as best I could at the break, and ended up on the floor to try to give it some relief. It had gotten steadily worse after I got home; I finally asked HRH to massage it and get rid of the walnut-sized knot on the left side, and that plus some tiger balm seems to have helped a lot. I really, really need to get one of those firm orthopaedic wedge cushions that a couple of the other cellists in the section use.

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

Orchestra Again

Nothing like being the de facto principal cellist in the absence of the first chair on the first day of orchestra… and not embarrassing myself. Go me!

Yes, it was the first orchestra rehearsal of the season last night, and our principal cellist couldn’t make it. It’s entirely possible that the late notice caught her with a double-booking. Anyway, our new conductor graciously asked if I wanted to move into the first chair and I said, “Oh, no; I’m good right here, thanks.” So everyone else shuffled so as to be closer and the third chair moved up to sit first. And I discovered something: Even though we were sight reading, in general my rhythm and timing is more accurate. We all ran into problems with a badly printed copy of the music and nasty accidental-sown runs (oh, Beethoven, I love you but you’re a bastard, with your notation tricks of slurs across beats and those damn modulations within scale-like passages), but I was pretty reliable in entrances and so forth. I did lose my place more than I’d liked in the runs because everything was squished together, and I have trouble ignoring people who are playing the wrong thing at the wrong time to focus on my own technically correct stuff. Still, it was a good time, and bodes very, very well for the season. Also, yay for my intonation. Lessons and a new cello are working well.

And in related news, I can’t listen to the Schubert ‘Rosamunde’ theme without singing ‘Waltzing Matilda’ in my head. (Now you can’t either. Ha.)

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

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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* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
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All Cello, All The Time

Yesterday was all cello, all the time. Well, not precisely; I did three hours of errands and grocery shopping and such in the morning. But I had an excellent two-hour duet rehearsal with my partner, then had half an hour to tidy up, and headed then off to my cello lesson. It was great to hear my teacher say that it was really coming together, and there were just twiddly things to do to the duet. When I was packing up she said that in general I was sounding good: my bow was more confident, and my intonation was really improving. It put me in a great mood as I left, and it stayed with me for the rest of the day, even through the traffic from hell on the highway that nearly made me late to collect the boy from the caregiver. (Hello, construction season. I have not missed you.)

The night before had been orchestra, so in effect I had five hours of cello in the space of eighteen waking hours. *flexes her callouses* I have to find a way to keep my left hand relaxed through the Vaughn Williams; I'm using way too much pressure. It's not like I have to press any harder with my left fingers if I'm playing louder, after all. It's all about bow speed.

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

I read pretty much the entirety of Perri Knize's Grand Obsession in one day. It was fabulous. I was worried at one or two points that it was going to veer a bit too far into the mystical (and coming from me that's saying something) but it righted itself in time. After all, how do you define how music affects us? It's a twofold story about a woman deciding to study piano in middle age and buying one, then trying to understand what the personal connection to a specific instrument is (not violin or cello or piano, but one specific example of the chosen instrument), and an exploration of how pianos are built and maintained. Really engaging and quite enjoyable.

We had our second rehearsal with our third guest conductor, and I enjoyed it even more than the first. He's good. There is a problem with his voice carrying to the back, but he's terrific in his bilingualism, and his musicality and his interaction are fabulous. He knows exactly what to work to smooth out problems, and how to phrase what he's looking for. We've added Grieg's Norwegian Dances to the programme, and (hurrah!) Vaughn Williams' English Folk Song suite. Of course, the Vaughn Williams starts in A-flat major (F minor? no, pretty sure it's Ab) which is four flats, augh! I have enough trouble remembering to flatten my As, and he wants me to flatten my Ds as well? But it is Vaughn Williams and I am over the moon.

Also in cello news, while I was working on some ensemble stuff earlier this week and trying to isolate why my intonation was unstable, my left elbow kind of said, "Oh, I've got it," and moved a millimetre or two forward on the horizontal axis, all on its own. And it solved the problem. I was amazed and very grateful to it. Perhaps the next time I have a problem of some kind I shall consult it.

I've had a series of excellent cello lessons with small but significant breakthroughs like that over the past couple of weeks. Of course, there was also that monthly group cello lesson where we worked on ensemble pieces for the upcoming recital. For some reason I couldn't get comfortable with the length of my endpin or the angle of my cello. I blew stupidly easy shifts while playing solo (naturally). Moral of the story: Revisit your ensemble pieces regularly, even if the last time you played them they were easy and note-perfect. I am appropriately humbled.

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* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
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In Which She Apologises

Dear new guest conductor,

I’m really, really sorry for panicking about the second bassoon part you asked me to play for the L’Arlesienne suite two nights ago at rehearsal. I agree that it was really needed so we could fill in the missing bits, and I was willing to give it a shot on the cello until you handed me the music. I was having a really bad day, and all I saw was multiple flats and tenor clef, and I knew I couldn’t sight-read it. Thank gods for M, who was willing to give it a shot (and pulled it off creditably, too). I’m pretty ashamed of myself, especially because it turned out that I could have done it as the crucial bit she ended up playing in that exposed part was in fact in bass clef and nice relaxed eighth notes. But her intonation while sight-reading is probably more reliable than mine anyway.

Just wanted to say I was sorry. And I should apologize to M again too, who was almost as flustered as I was about the music, even though I probably already apologized to her too many times during and after the rehearsal. I feel awful about it.

But hey, how about that sight-reading of the third movement of Scheherazade? Pretty good, hunh?

Sincerely,
the cellist in the second chair

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* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
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Ups and Downs

I've dropped the boy off, gone to the bank (as usual, misjudging the amount I needed to withdraw so I have to go back again), done groceries, picked up ribbon, picked up dark transfer paper for HRH's t-shirt, had brunch, and have just returned from a drive to Ahuntsic. That was certainly an adventure. Why GoogleMaps didn't just tell me to go up the 15 to Henri-Bourassa, the street I needed to be on, I don ot know. Instead I went all over the place in crazy circles and turns to get to L'Acadie. (Turns out there's an exit for L'Acadie on the 15 too. Good grief.) Also, the Met is one of my least favourite highways to travel.

Anyway, in Ahuntsic I viewed and purchased a lovely light hard cello case. It is brown! With a grey interior! And it has backpack straps and good handles and a huge pocket for sheet music! I'm thrilled. It's only about eight pounds, and since other hard cases boast about being light at 12 or 13 lbs, I'm feeling pretty smug. Don't know the maker; there's no identifying tag. The one drawback is that it doesn't fit in the trunk. But it does fit across the back seat if I raise the armrests on the boy's booster seat, so huzzah!

Yes, I'm pretty set case-wise forever now. Unless something happens to this hard case like happened to my first one, namely something punching a hole in the bottom while it was being shipped by train to Toronto.

So. On top of all the racing around and emotional stuff going on today, I'm having what I used to call a flopsy day, which I now understand is a bad fibro day: muscles lacking strength to handle fine motor stuff and even some of the mid-range motor stuff. I can't speak French to save my life today; my tongue and my lips won't form the proper shapes required. I can't hold a pencil or write properly, either. I'm mildly concerned about my lesson, but I'll let my teacher know the situation. Looking back I see that this began yesterday, which partially explains the awful, awful showing I made of a stupidly easy passage in a Brahms Hungarian dance last night (when, naturally, the celli were playing alone to work the passage). On the plus side, my bow hold was more like the new one and less like the old one, and evidently I was bowing in some sort of proper form because the large muscles on the right side of my back were sore when I got home (the soreness was not the good part, the good part was that to get them sore I had been using them, which I was supposed to be doing).

Food now, then packing for the lesson, then resting a bit, then to the lesson I go. I'm worried about getting from the lesson, which ends at five in Pointe-Claire, to the caregiver's, which is in Montreal West. Traffic is going to be awful. If this doesn't work I'll need to find another time slot, and finding this one was hard enough what with having the car and no small person to care for only once a week.

Right. Let's get on that, then.

Life Is Good

Today is a beautiful, sunny, crisp fall day, and I had my first private cello lesson in ten years.

We addressed lots of things, which didn't feel overwhelming at the time but as I'm processing it I'm thinking that wow, yes, it was a lot. Ringing tones, intonation and tonalization, bow grip, leading with the elbow (which is completely at odds with how I was originally taught, which was to lead from the wrist, but I can see how leading with the elbow opens the body up and can produce a more beautiful and precise sound, and she says she was first taught the wrist way as well so at least I'm in good company), exercises for the bow grip and how it's supposed to pivot around the thumb as the bow moves from frog to tip and back, shifting exercises from first to second position... yes, it's a lot. But these things all came up as we worked through a Schumann chorale piece, playing slow, long notes to really hear what was happening. I spent a lot of the lesson with my eyes closed or staring off at nothing while I tried to listen to the sound I was making and feel the way my hands and arms had begin repositioned so that I could do it again on my own. I felt muscles in my right arm that I didn't know were used while bowing. I just hope I can remember how it feels.

She asked about what books and exercises I had, what I'd played before, and what I was interested in playing. I didn't think at first to list the things I wanted to work on, but I didn't need to because most of them came up in the course of the lesson! Ultimately what I'm looking for is how to better create a beautiful sound, something large and rich and, well, beautiful. So we're going to go back to some of my first pieces and work on those, focusing on intonation and lovely sound, and start looking at the Rick Mooney books I bought this summer to help shifting and position work.

I am so happy to be doing something about this. And it's affordable, and enjoyable, and good for me.

I realized at the end of the lesson that I'd spent an awful lot of the last fourteen years trying not to make a big sound, thanks to the scarring experience of having seniors banging on my floors and ceilings when I tried to practise at the very beginning. The Resident Fan Club will be happy to know that from now on I am not allowed to use a practise mute, nor pull the power I'm trying to channel through the bow. My teacher's main room is tiled with lovely earth-toned ceramic tile and has a grand piano in it, so the sound echoes beautifully and it's really easy to hear sympathetic strings vibrating when you play a ringing tone.

In other cello-related news, I have a lead on a semi-soft cello case that is exactly the one I loved so much that came with the Eastman 7/8 I tried this summer! The person selling it on Kijiji is being slow about returning my e-mails though, and I don't want to lose this the way I've lost the last six tries to buy a secondhand iBook. I'm now waiting to hear when she can meet me so I can see/buy it. And last night's orchestra rehearsal was very good too; we're sounding a lot more precise and there are actual dynamics happening. We spend the first ten minutes doing exercises with a scale related to a piece we're working on, using different bow techniques and strokes and so forth. The guest conductor is tailoring these exercises to something we'll encounter in the music we're working on that night. Very clever; keeps it all fresh in the mind. And as for the music, the Wagner's off the programme and a Vivaldi concerto grosso is on.

Of course the postperson came while I was gone, so I missed a package. But there were cheques for work done waiting for me when I got home! I also did some banking, stopped by the library to pick up a reserve and found two other new acquisitions that I wanted to read as well, I put gas in the car, and did a small grocery pickup. My cello lessons are right by Fairview, and as I pulled away from my teacher's house I thought, Is there anything I need at Fairview? Nah, and kept going... only to realize on the highway halfway home that yes, I had indeed needed to pick up something very specific at Fairview, and that I was an idiot because I even had it written on a list of things to do... that was safely inside my pocket where I couldn't see it. Argh. Looks like I'm going to need an agenda again, something more portable than my lovely but big Daytimer binder I used to use when I was working outside the home. Maybe I'll treat myself to a trip to the office supply shop on the way to collect the boy, to see what they have.

In the meantime, I am brining chicken. I am tempted to get some Brie and mushrooms so I can make those delicious chicken pastry things again, but HRH is leaving early tonight so I don't think we'll have time for that. The chicken will be just as lovely on its own.

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

Yesterday, not long after I wrote my journal entry about practising, my Internet connection went kablooey and I spent the next couple of hours unsuccessfully trying to fix it. I ended up turning the damn thing off and going to work in the living room. It gave me writing time, but I had tons of Internet-associated research to handle and correspondence to catch up on, and it made me very cranky. Also, I lost an expanded ETA form of that last post in which I rhapsodized about a particular shift that I love doing in one of my lesson pieces. And the post didn't actually post thanks to the kablooeyness, I discovered this morning. Gnarr. However, I managed to play cello for a while longer, and get non-Internet dependent work done as well.

Orchestra last night was good. I don't know if someone mentioned something about our situation to the guest conductor but he's really focusing on interpretation and phrasing. Quite nice. And the principal showed me a terrific fingering for the opening phrase of the Wagner clarinet piece we're accompanying (five flats! dear gods!).

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

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

Yay! Daniel Levitin has a new book out, this one called The World In Six Songs: How the Musical Brain Created Human Nature. I loved This Is Your Brain On Music, so I'm going to pick this one up ASAP. Because, you know, I don't have enough books on the To Read pile. (Two-thirds of the way through Anathem, still loving it, regretting that there are only 300 pages left; sigh. Also, I have a review book I'm supposed to read and, well, review, except I am so not in the mood for something set in the Regency period right now.)

Last night's first rehearsal of the season was great. It felt really good to be back playing in concert with everyone. Our first guest conductor is in fact someone who we tested fiveish years ago when our original conductor passed away. I didn't remember his name or his technique at all until about halfway through this rehearsal. He worked on having us express the music cleanly and with emotion, already set bowings for us prior to the rehearsal, and used examples and terminology to shape our interpretation. One night isn't enough to fully evaluate someone's technique, of course; we'll be working with him properly for a couple of months to see how we suit. My borrowed cello was solid and serviceable but I'm glad I don't play it on a regular basis. It was somewhat stiff, and the action was very high; thumb position would have killed me. I can see why C. upgraded to her current instrument, and again I'm reminded of how easy my cello is to play (oversize notwithstanding).

When I left for rehearsal I thought, Hmm, what do I need to bring? Oh, I should take my bow. A bow is a very personal thing, you see. So I grabbed that and off I went... leaving behind my (empty) music folder, my tuner, my pencils, my cleaning cloth, and my rosin. All these things are usually in my cello case, which is currently at the luthier with my cello, and since I don't carry them separately it didn't occur to me that I might need to collect them as well. At least I brought a bag with me so I could carry the music home, there was a pencil in my purse, and our section leader lent me her rosin (Liebenzeller Gold, wow; wish I'd had my own cello so I could have evaluated it better) and tuner.

Of course, although she'd heard about the new mystery cello and asked after it (hurrah for the tiny musical community who shares links to exciting blog posts about a fellow musician's good fortune!) I forgot to ask her about lessons. Argh. I will write myself a note and stick it on the front of my music folder for next week.

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* The original post at Owls' Court
* Owls' Court: the main journal
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The Ongoing 7/8 Report

For reference purposes I'm labeling this Eastman VC-100 7/8 I'm currently play-testing as Number 3, the Scarlatti 7/8 I tried at Wilder & Davis as Number 2, and the original Eastman VC-100 that was sold Number 1.

I did a bit of recording in my office, and it's not the same as the recording I did at the second luthierie. It's completely the environment; when I recorded the second 7/8 it was in a practice room lined with cellos, and so the sound was super resonant, because all of them were vibrating when I played. I have no way of checking the actual sound unless I sign out the Number 2 on home trial and record it here. Which I may do at some point this summer, I suppose. One must entertain oneself somehow.

This third one just doesn't grab me. I don't feel the same smoothness. The action's pretty high, probably because those extra millimetres of string length have to come from somewhere. It doesn't bother my fingers, though.

I haven't touched the bow. I tried it a bit and it needs a lot more rosin; it skipped around a lot. The balance seems all right, as does the weight. Nothing outstanding.

The finish is a polished satin, but I liked the colour of Number 1 better. I am very, very shallow. But it's part of the aesthetic.

I took it to rehearsal last week, and it performed adequately in the ensemble. The sound was slightly warmer than my 4/4, which tends to a more brittle sound. I don't know how much of this is due to the newer strings. Mine are a year old, after all. I did have to fine-tune frequently throughout rehearsal. (Yikes -- I just double-checked, and mine are not one but two years old. Oy! I remembered getting them just before a spring gig, and evidently it wasn't the Victoria Day 2007 concert but the April 2006 concert just before t! and Jan got married.)

Part of my problem is the cello I buy now won't be the same in a couple of years; they need to be played in before the sound matures. Mine's had forty years of settling in. This one was made last year and would need a lot of work to break it in properly. (Hell, my strings are older than this 7/8.) Of course, this is true of any new cello I buy. Still.

I do adore the case with much adoration, however. Not that this will be a deciding factor. It's good to know if I can't afford a hard case, however, I can buy this kind of soft case for the next cello and it will be better protected than the thinner gig case I use now. (Which is, I have discovered to my absolute horror, scratching the sides of the cello. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad! Did I mention that it's bad? And bad?)

Part of me is still thinking I should look at a step or two higher. Sure, the quality of the VC-100 is equivalent to mine, which is a high-end student model itself, but I really do want to upgrade in quality as well as the size. The size and playability might make a long-term difference, but I can't evaluate that until I've had the damn thing long-term. I want to visit a shop in Toronto when we're up there later this month and see what they have, too. I thought about asking Olivier to order in an other one, but I don't think I will at this point.

I can't see the point in buying something that's equivalent to mine but with a slightly different shape. Number 1 had enough of a difference in sound and feel that I considered buying it. I simply don't like this one enough. I'll play it again early next week, but I'm fairly certain it's going back. (Well, it's going back either way; I don't have the money for it at the moment.) If I loved it I'd have negotiated putting a deposit on it, but I don't, so that's that.

(Originally posted 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.)

*headdesk*

Two. Two cellists out of six were there last night, and our principal was not one of them. At the end of the evening our conductor came over to us and said, "You did very well. You must be starting to feel like the violists." Which was terribly funny, really, and if I'd been in a clearer headspace I would have laughed instead of tripping over myself to downplay the mess I'd made of My Fair Lady. We'd sight-read the MFL medley and while the first half was fine, at the halfway point we got to an arrangement of 'I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face' that made no sense to me rhythm-wise and I lost the wave I'd been riding and crashed. (It possibly has something to do with the fact that I can't remember how the song goes to save my life.) On the other hand, we'd handled both the symphonies very well, which was quite encouraging.

At least I got the chance to sit as a stand partner with M. for the first time ever, which was a truly delightful experience. She has absolutely lovely tone. And as one of the violists said, when there's only two of you you can suddenly hear what you're playing. And it was nice to discover that I don't suck, but it was also stressful in that all of a sudden I didn't have the principal cellist's wing under which to play. I couldn't fudge the runs like I sometimes allow myself to do in order to be ready for the next bits. Sometimes my fingers surprise me by demonstrating that they actually do know where to go and when.

I would like to work on the quality of sound I'm producing, but all that seems to fly out the window when I'm trying to get my fingers in the right place. I know, I know; practice...

(Originally posted at Owls' Court.)

Quick Update

Things have been very frustrating over the past few days. I did have a fabulous rehearsal last Wednesday night though. I tried a new bow hold (thank you Christopher Bunting) and it automatically forced me to hold the right arm in that more balletic curve I'd been trying for to affect how I draw the bow. We got the new music for the My Fair Lady and Sound of Music medleys, and after really working the overture and playing through the delightful (and not really Mozart's) Symphony no. 3, we did most of the SoM and had a blast. I've been reading through Position Pieces for Cello by Rick Mooney as well, and the geography quizzes are brilliant. If your second finger is on D on the A string, what note would your fourth finger play? The first? What would the fourth finger play on the D string if you crossed to it? It may be obvious, but it's just what I need to help positions sink in. I should have bought both volumes.

(Condensed from the longer post at Owls' Court.)

Thoughts On Orchestra And The Upcoming Concert

Augh.

Did I say the church was on the corner of St John's and Lakeview? I misremembered. It's about three or four houses along Lakeview. I'm so used to churches being on corners that I neatly edited my memory of Cedar Park United. So if you're driving down St John's this Saturday looking for a church, just turn west on Lakeview. No, really. Trust me.

I had a really bad fibro day yesterday; not only was the body clunky but I spent two hours after I submitted the proofs staring at a computer screen and I don't remember any of it. I started waking up around the time I brought the boy home, and was in great form when I left (so I thought). Loved the drive to rehearsal, which was at the church, but took the northbound exit at St John's instead of the southbound, which I do every other time I drive to this church because I am a creature of habit and nine times out of ten when I take St John's I'm going north. There was a beautiful fiery coral sunset to admire along the way. I cannot express how much I love this time of year, with dry roads and crystal-clear nights.

When I got there I discovered that the church had invested in new folding chairs that are not only padded but feature straight seats, for which all the cellists were thankful as most folding chairs slant backwards and create nasty stress on the lower back. These chairs are the perfect height and enable my knees to be at ninety-degree angles. They were set up on a grey-blue runner, so I didn't need to pull out the leather belt I use to stabilize my endpin on stone floors. Excellent! As a bonus, the ambient light was good enough that I didn't need my stand light. (This was a mistake, but more on that later.)

We shifted the order of two small pieces within the suite: the chanson now comes before all the airs and dances instead of after the finale, which makes me very happy because now everything resolves nicely. Before the shift there was the massive pounding finale followed by a very gentle song, which, while lovely, kind of robbed the suite of its oomph. We had our guest mandolinist there again as well as the guest vocalist there for the first time, and the balance is lovely. I'm really enjoying this suite, the damned Passepied aside. (Although last night it worked for me -- I kept up and only lost my place once instead of every three bars.)

I tried playing with a shorter pin last night, which made the cello more vertical, and there's not as much body in the way as when the cello is more horizontal as a result of the longer endpin. It's comfortable (at least with these particular chairs). I also played with the yet-again-remodelled bow (HRH took more off the body of the stick for me this week so it's nice and light, although the frog is still chunkier than I'd like, not that we can do anything about it) and I was impressed by the quality of sound I was producing. Every church has really different acoustics and affects how we hear our instruments and the ensemble; this one is pleasant, but overall the orchestra has problems hearing the other sections because the strings are on two different levels. It never ceases to amaze me that it takes moving out of the cavernous auditorium in which we regularly rehearse to remind me of how badly it swallows sound.

I was the only inside cellist there last night so I was playing the lower cello line alone in one of the pieces, as compared to the three outside cellists playing the upper line. I wondered why it sounded so thin. And my cello's nasal A string is really starting to hold me back; I have to constantly pull my weight and stroke when I use the open string, which is more work than I need to be doing. Maybe I'll try a wolf eliminator. It can't hurt, and it's under ten dollars. I wonder if I can get one before dress rehearsal Friday night. Maybe I'll go downtown tomorrow morning to my regular luthier and pick one up. I could ask them about 7/8s, too. If I get there when they open at 9h30 then I can be home by noon. Too bad I didn't think of this before; I could have gone out this morning instead, because it's beautifully sunny. Or maybe I'll try the new luthier; it would take about the same amount of time to get there by public transport. I don't know if I'm relaxed enough to try to travel somewhere new and head into an environment I know nothing about right now, though. After the book is handed in, I think.

Not only was the body clunky and fine motor control was pretty much absent (not a good thing when you have to make minute changes to balance in the right hand, although the left hand seemed to be just fine), but my body temperature plummeted about half an hour after arriving and thought processes slowed down too. By the time we got through most of the smaller pieces, I was fading fast. As a result I was only partially present for the symphony, which engendered interesting results. I managed to sail through places where I'd stumbled every single time in rehearsal, and messed up perfectly simple things. I have got to remind myself to get up and walk around at half-time. It would help give my mind a break. It's just that I like to use the time to run through tricky bits on what we're going to do next. (Also, as I am shyness incarnate, this way I don't have to mingle and chat.) I strongly suspect that the ambient light, while adequate to see by, affected my not-wholly-thereness.

It really felt like I was woolly, or part of me was missing. It was slightly alarming when it came to the drive home. I was determined that the I-lost-two-hours-staring-at-a-monitor thing of the afternoon was not going to happen to me on the way home, thank you very much, so I turned the music up, held the wheel with both hands, and stared at the road directly ahead of me. Once upon a time I could drive home from t!'s house and not remember any of it, but that was okay because I was nineteen, it was the West Island, and it was around one in the morning so the roads were deserted. Highways are bad. Then of course, when I got home, I couldn't fall asleep until midnight-thirty.

I'll say one thing for being slightly out of it: I was much better at moving past being anxious about small mistakes. But I was so exhausted by the end of the evening that I wonder how I'll handle Saturday night. It's a really long programme. I'm still not convinced by the opening of the Ravel, we didn't get to the Faure, and no matter how I angle my chair I can't quite see the conductor, and I'm sitting in front of him. I'll try the old raise-the-stand-an-inch trick and see if that helps. Proof that I was out of it last night: that didn't even occur to me.

On the other hand, I really liked the tone I was producing last night. I was hitting a few strings during crossings (thanks, stupid clunky right hand), but aside from that and the nasal A string I could actually appreciate the sound. You have no idea how happy that makes me.

~ Originally posted at my main journal Owls' Court.