The Recital Report

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

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

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

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Uneven Dress Rehearsal...

... hopefully even recital, right?

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

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Good Celloing

I just had an hour-long rehearsal with my duet partner that went quite encouragingly well. I recorded the session with the MiniDisc, and have now spent an hour struggling with the transfer. The first time I had the levels set too high so the bass warped everything. The second one I did was too low and had odd clicking/crackly sounds throughout it. Third time's the charm, yes?

Beyond the somewhat argh-ness of the transfer, the entire experience was great. We bumped up the speed each time we played it through, which I was very thankful to do; I like playing it faster than I do in lessons. When we get it going at 104mm, it's great. We both seem to have the same instinct of when to bring the pace down a notch and when to reassert the original tempo, too, which is a good thing. Apart from the usual missed notes and wrong fingers, I'm very impressed with the recording. We're doing a great job. Considering the fact that this is the first time we've played it together, I'm all the more encouraged. Listening to the recording is interesting; I can't tell who is who a lot of the time. I mean, I know what bits I play, but if I'm not concentrating I can't tell which cello is producing the theme or the accompaniment at any given point. Which means the balance is good. And we had fewer problems than I expected; we listened to one another quite well.

Just before she arrived the postperson dropped off the box of cello goodies I won from Emily and Benning Violins! I had to leave it sitting there on the table while we played. I opened it while I was transferring the recording, and here is a photographic record, as promised to various cello players in the blogosphere!



The very cute little box! Emily drew little cellos and notes and bass clefs on the other side.



The contents!



The contents, unpacked! There's peg lubricant, polish, a microfibre cleaning cloth, the Larsen A, and a brand-new cake of Gustave Bernardel rosin. It is perhaps somewhat sad that I am very excited about the microfibre cleaning cloth. I needed a new one. I'm very excited about the rosin too, of course (the idea of spending fifteen dollars to try a new cake of rosin is alien to me), and hey, a Larsen A! But evidently all it takes is a nice blue cloth to make my day. I'm a simple creature. Thank you, Emily! I will think of you every time I swipe my bow with the rosin or clean off the cello.

Aha; on the fourth transfer I have established proper levels and volume, and there are no pops or clicks. A little voice has piped up inside my head and says, You know, the Mac Mini will come with Garage Band! This will be very exciting! I wonder if I can link my microphone directly into the extended-loan iBook to record my part for my partner to practise against, even though it doesn't have GarageBand on it. Hmm. Worth messing about with next week. If not, the MiniDisc-to-computer it is.

And to top it all off, I have a lesson tonight. I'm looking forward to it, especially now that I've listened to the recording (multiple times) and know what bits really need work, and what places my partner and I will have to listen to one another extra-hard.

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Music At Home

Yesterday afternoon was my monthly group cello lesson, which was so much fun. I love the group lessons as a rule, but this one was particularly enjoyable. Only four out of seven students were there, and we played some really fun stuff which I essentially sight-read because I hadn't had time to play it through after my teacher gave it to me last Tuesday (last week = work + workshop insanity + brain burnout). I and my stand partner spent a lot of time laughing, which felt moderately wicked. I pulled some very nice stuff off when the less-confident people dropped out along the way, and tripped myself in a couple of particular places every single time because I hadn't prepared the shifts.

Last night after the boy got ready for bed I set up my cello and told him a little story about a moonlit barnyard at midnight, when the barn door creaks open and two eyes peek out, and then a little chicken steps into the barnyard to move one foot, then another, and then... dances! At this point I played the Chicken Reel for him, and he kept telling the story on his own. It was fun. When he was in bed I kept working on some of those nasty shifts and working out fingerings for various other group pieces, and he sang along in the dark. This morning he woke up singing again, and when I went in to cuddle him he threw his arms around me and asked if I'd had fun at my cello practise. I told him I had, and asked if he liked hearing it while he was in bed. He said he did quite enthusiastically and asked what songs they had been (which resulted in a discussion about Dona Nobis Pacem and Ave Verum Corpus at much-too-early-o'clock), so maybe I'll do it more often. Being comfortable enough to play with everyone at home here and upstairs was a definite indicator of how good a mood I was in. I actually liked the sound I was producing, too. Wonders will never cease.

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Lesson Highs and Lows

Saturday morning I had my cello lesson, and it began beautifully. I did a smooth, beautiful tonalization sequence of arpeggios, and it was really even and balanced and in tune and soft and there are lots of other pretty words I could use to describe it because it was almost perfect. My teacher asked me how I felt about it and I kind of shrugged and said, "It was nice. I liked it." (Which was an understatement, because I had been amazed at how smooth and effortless it had been, but it was a warm-up and I hadn't been paying very close attention when I did it.) She said, "Well, I have goosebumps! That was beautiful!" And she was partly kidding, and partly not. But then everything started to go downhill, until it hit the usual point about two-thirds of the way through the lesson where it can't get any worse and I start to freeze up because nothing I do works and I waver between abject misery and anger. I know what happens: my teacher starts pointing out things we need to fix and I try to keep it all in my mind, and the more I try to think about everything (bring the left elbow forward a degree more when shifting up and crossing a string, wrap the bow around the string by moving the right elbow forward or back, pronate hands, caterpillars, tunnels) the worse I play. Adding more things to the list of things I need to constantly check clogs up my brain and I start dropping basic things I've already internalized. It's part of the learning process, but not a part I especially enjoy.

My teacher has an analogy for this: It's like the drive shaft on a set of train wheels. At first it feels like you're moving forward, but then the drive shaft starts going through the second half of the cycle and the illusion of going backward is created, even though the overall unit is still moving forward. And if I think about it I'm doing things now that I couldn't do two months ago. But that doesn't particularly comfort me at the two-thirds point of the lesson. My teacher told me as I was packing up to remember the tonalization, though, and to remind myself frequently that I have the wherewithal to make that beautiful sound.

It's also rather frustrating because I've been spending so much practise time on the orchestra music and not paying attention to my lesson stuff, and as a result when I played the Lee that I'd played well a month ago it was awful and we had to spend time addressing the problems there. The plan for two spring/early summer concerts has been dropped (not directly related to how poorly I'm doing, but rather to people not all being available) and so I don't need to worry about having it ready until a month after the original deadline, which after this past lesson is a good thing.

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A State Of The Me Update

Hello, world. I'm not dead, just really, really exhausted. See, having fibro = feeling like you have the flu all the time. So when I have the flu? Extra-bad, and extra-long to recover, and I never really feel like I fully get there.

And now the boy is sick, and HRH is iffy, no one is sleeping properly, and can we just fast-forward to where we're well again, please? The boy had to cancel out on a much-anticipated birthday party this morning, and HRH and I have had to cancel on a different long-awaited multiple-person birthday extravaganza tonight. We are none of us amused.

I did manage to drag myself out for a rescheduled cello lesson this morning, because I was going stir crazy at home and I needed the discipline. We decided to play the Lee duet sonata for the concert in April, about which I am very very pleased. It feels good to reply with an immediate and enthusiastic "Yes!" when one's teacher asks if you'd be interested in playing the piece you just started working on for a recital.

So yes, going wiped out my day's spoons (what there were to begin with) but it was worth it. I played both my own cello and the 7/8 on trial yesterday for a total of about two hours, and it is increasingly obvious that simply finding a 7/8 that sounds equivalent to my cello is going to be a huge obstacle. When I switch between them I can very certainly feel the difference in body size, but I can also feel the klutzyness of the 7/8s sound- and response-wise. It is repeatedly being demonstrated to me that my cello is indeed a very excellent cello.

Something I've really noticed in this revisiting-old-stuff-I-worked-on-twelve-years-ago is that these easy pieces really point out where my technique has eroded away. On top of that I'm trying to unlearn certain techniques that were taught to me (lead the bow hand with the wrist, the bye-bye movement to switch between adjacent strings during a quick passage) for more ergonomic and efficient applications. It means a good portion of my lessons are taken up by working on minute things, like today where we spent a good ten minutes on the tiny motion of the right elbow backwards to roll between the A and D strings. After fifteen years of doing that motion with a flick of my right hand and nothing else, it's hard to shed the habit and focus on doing the new movement instead. And at one point I was trying to incorporate three things we'd worked on in the lesson (a different way of approaching a half-shift to extended second position with the left hand, placing the fourth finger on the G two notes before it had to be there, and the right elbow-only backwards movement for the string crossing, all in a passage of four sixteenth notes) and my brain just about exploded. Learning it new would have been enough of a challenge. Trying to ignore the ingrained habits of a decade and a half while applying the new technique and trying to sound good at the same time? All three things on top of one another? While I'm still not operating at 100%? Let's just say it didn't work so well. The good thing is my teacher knows exactly how hard it is to rewire these sorts of things because she did it herself (her original training and my first teacher's technique seem very similar), and understands that planting the seed during the lesson is only the beginning, while setting exercises to work on the new technique during home practise are what develop it. And it's not like we hit all three things at once; we did them separately and they all showed up in that single four-note passage. She also understands that I need a balance of description and actual physical this-is-what-it-feels-like, so she often has me relax and moves my bow arm in the motion it needs to take. I close my eyes a lot during lessons to feel what the movement or sounds is supposed to be like.

I've rambled enough. I'm having trouble breathing, so I think it's time for some hot tea with lemon and honey.

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