26/08: Coming around again
My daughter is back on the violin again, after a several months hiatus. Life had become crazy, and I’d given her a break from her lessons, after it started looking like she was just under too much pressure. She’s seven. There’s really no call for a seven-year-old to feel so stressed about anything that she breaks down and cries… And when it’s happening at group class, it’s a bit of a problem… There’s this and the stress over practice. She’d been making it hard, putting up some rather serious resistance, which was a new thing. And this wasn’t too good for me, either. I was getting tired. There are only so many hours in the day, and only so many Joules in my body available for such efforts.
But she’s a funny kid, as previously mentioned in this space. She’s always been a bit… touchy, about things. Seems to me, she cares an awful lot about certain things. Like getting them right. Like that C# on the A string… if it doesn’t sound like it’s Perlman playing it, she’s not happy with herself. Suspected maybe this was part of what the stress was. New group class, more kids to compare herself too, even when you tell her not to, all of them older, more experienced. For someone who’s hearing every flaw in every note and caring an awful lot, I can see how that might have been a bit much.
I still don’t know quite where that’s coming from, that drive for the perfect C#, that stress when it’s anything less. I’m pretty sure neither I nor my wife nor her teachers were putting her under that pressure. But she knows the difference between pretty and not pretty, and it’s awfully hard to convince her: you don’t need to cry when it’s less than pretty, it’s okay, just do it again. It doesn’t have to sound perfect the first time. It’s never going to sound perfect the first time. Just keep at it, and it gets that way… (Or close enough, you’re happy enough, and it’s only you noticing anyway; because everyone else thinks it’s perfect, and this will have to do. And most things are like that, actually.)
I’m working on this. Moving practices to the morning again, since I guess she’s more a morning person. Not so fun for me, as I’m really not. But you do what you have to, I guess. There’s always caffeine.
It’s nice that she’s even back at it. I’m slightly surprised by this. When I told her she could have a break, it was more than that: it was actually: you don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to. You’re doing great, but you get upset a lot, and practises are getting hard; listen, let’s give it a break, let’s see if you still want to do this in a few months…
And those few months later, I ask her. Offering her another instrument, if she wants, or no instrument, if she doesn’t. What do you really want to do, here, kid?
I want to play violin, she says.
Seriously? I ask. Really? Remember, there’s practise. There’s lessons. There’s group. You got upset a lot. That stuff. Are you sure you want to do this?
Yes, she says. I do.
And bless her heart, it seems she really does, after a bit more making awfully sure on the part of her now rather wary father. Seven, and yes, she still wants to do this. Tell her this is a committment, this is lessons, this is practice, and yes, she’s still in. She’s seen a few friends give it up, and I’m telling her she can get out now, if she wants to, and she’s not having any of that…
The other great part: she picks it back up, and an awful lot of it’s still right there. She’s hardly touched the thing over the summer, and it’s coming back anyway: left hand fingers remembering the songs, right holding the bow as well as she always did. Still gets upset, when it’s not perfect, but we’re working on that. And I guess maybe there are worse things.
The last nice thing: picking up the cello again. Hadn’t touched it much myself, over that period. I’d been swamped, there was some chaos at work after some reorg/relocation stuff affected most of the folk I’d been working with; figured it was time for a break for me, too. And sure, things were a little hairy for me, too, for a practice or two… fingers forgetting things, having to be coaxed back into line.
But it’s like calling up an old friend, finding you’ve still got lots in common. What’s a few months? Life is long, and we still know each other.
So it’s good to back.
But she’s a funny kid, as previously mentioned in this space. She’s always been a bit… touchy, about things. Seems to me, she cares an awful lot about certain things. Like getting them right. Like that C# on the A string… if it doesn’t sound like it’s Perlman playing it, she’s not happy with herself. Suspected maybe this was part of what the stress was. New group class, more kids to compare herself too, even when you tell her not to, all of them older, more experienced. For someone who’s hearing every flaw in every note and caring an awful lot, I can see how that might have been a bit much.
I still don’t know quite where that’s coming from, that drive for the perfect C#, that stress when it’s anything less. I’m pretty sure neither I nor my wife nor her teachers were putting her under that pressure. But she knows the difference between pretty and not pretty, and it’s awfully hard to convince her: you don’t need to cry when it’s less than pretty, it’s okay, just do it again. It doesn’t have to sound perfect the first time. It’s never going to sound perfect the first time. Just keep at it, and it gets that way… (Or close enough, you’re happy enough, and it’s only you noticing anyway; because everyone else thinks it’s perfect, and this will have to do. And most things are like that, actually.)
I’m working on this. Moving practices to the morning again, since I guess she’s more a morning person. Not so fun for me, as I’m really not. But you do what you have to, I guess. There’s always caffeine.
It’s nice that she’s even back at it. I’m slightly surprised by this. When I told her she could have a break, it was more than that: it was actually: you don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to. You’re doing great, but you get upset a lot, and practises are getting hard; listen, let’s give it a break, let’s see if you still want to do this in a few months…
And those few months later, I ask her. Offering her another instrument, if she wants, or no instrument, if she doesn’t. What do you really want to do, here, kid?
I want to play violin, she says.
Seriously? I ask. Really? Remember, there’s practise. There’s lessons. There’s group. You got upset a lot. That stuff. Are you sure you want to do this?
Yes, she says. I do.
And bless her heart, it seems she really does, after a bit more making awfully sure on the part of her now rather wary father. Seven, and yes, she still wants to do this. Tell her this is a committment, this is lessons, this is practice, and yes, she’s still in. She’s seen a few friends give it up, and I’m telling her she can get out now, if she wants to, and she’s not having any of that…
The other great part: she picks it back up, and an awful lot of it’s still right there. She’s hardly touched the thing over the summer, and it’s coming back anyway: left hand fingers remembering the songs, right holding the bow as well as she always did. Still gets upset, when it’s not perfect, but we’re working on that. And I guess maybe there are worse things.
The last nice thing: picking up the cello again. Hadn’t touched it much myself, over that period. I’d been swamped, there was some chaos at work after some reorg/relocation stuff affected most of the folk I’d been working with; figured it was time for a break for me, too. And sure, things were a little hairy for me, too, for a practice or two… fingers forgetting things, having to be coaxed back into line.
But it’s like calling up an old friend, finding you’ve still got lots in common. What’s a few months? Life is long, and we still know each other.
So it’s good to back.
15/03: Injuries
My daughter’s pretty little John Juzek violin has developed a crack in the back, directly beneath the sound post. Not sure what happened. Probably just the level of dryness it put up with. We do keep a dampit in the case, but we had some severely cold/dry days last month. Keeping the sponge damp wasn’t easy.
Don’t know much about this, I’m afraid. First I’ve had to deal with anything this serious in an instrument. Sending out emails, now, to the various folk I know who might have an idea what can be done, what’s worth doing, so on…
I find myself saddened by this. It was/is a nice little instrument. Really hoping, now, the advice isn’t gonna be to forget about it, move on. But my understanding is that’s a bad place for a crack.
Don’t know much about this, I’m afraid. First I’ve had to deal with anything this serious in an instrument. Sending out emails, now, to the various folk I know who might have an idea what can be done, what’s worth doing, so on…
I find myself saddened by this. It was/is a nice little instrument. Really hoping, now, the advice isn’t gonna be to forget about it, move on. But my understanding is that’s a bad place for a crack.
… I’m now working on the second menuet of the first suite.
Yes, I know, I haven’t really posted anything particularly substantive in weeks. What can I say? I’m currently crushed by the greyness* of this tawdry existence… That and still kinda swamped.
(*Note that in Canada and many other until-recently British territories and protectorates, one is traditionally crushed by the greyness of this tawdry existence, while in the US, it is more generally the grayness one fears. Having lived in the US for some years, I cannot report that I noticed it made much of a difference.)
Yes, I know, I haven’t really posted anything particularly substantive in weeks. What can I say? I’m currently crushed by the greyness* of this tawdry existence… That and still kinda swamped.
(*Note that in Canada and many other until-recently British territories and protectorates, one is traditionally crushed by the greyness of this tawdry existence, while in the US, it is more generally the grayness one fears. Having lived in the US for some years, I cannot report that I noticed it made much of a difference.)
12/12: Coping strategies
… so just for the record, I am a bit under pressure right now. Buncha things to get done for work, preferably before getting outta here at the end of next week, yadda yadda. I’m in that paradoxical work yer ass of to get some rest stage, all with the intention of taking a few days clean ‘n easy at the end of the month, visiting family, so on…
So occasional outbursts directed toward idiots in bars are to be understood in that context, please.
Note also that said outbursts aren’t my only coping mechanism. A more generally civilized one is working on this piece (PDF; somewhat modified from the last version) sporadically, as necessary…
One of the perks of working mostly at home is you can do that… take five minutes, saw through it… without really pissing off the guys in the next office. This, I find, tends to be a good way to work out the sort of stress that builds otherwise.
The attached sheet is my current version; after modifying the bowings to get the ‘practice’ bowing my teacher suggested, I’ve also been editing the fingerings, other stuff. I’ve got big hands, can stretch for a lot without shifting position; the fingerings in standard versions aren’t usually real sensible for me.
So occasional outbursts directed toward idiots in bars are to be understood in that context, please.
Note also that said outbursts aren’t my only coping mechanism. A more generally civilized one is working on this piece (PDF; somewhat modified from the last version) sporadically, as necessary…
One of the perks of working mostly at home is you can do that… take five minutes, saw through it… without really pissing off the guys in the next office. This, I find, tends to be a good way to work out the sort of stress that builds otherwise.
The attached sheet is my current version; after modifying the bowings to get the ‘practice’ bowing my teacher suggested, I’ve also been editing the fingerings, other stuff. I’ve got big hands, can stretch for a lot without shifting position; the fingerings in standard versions aren’t usually real sensible for me.
07/12: Still life
So, anyway, here’s what our living room floor looks like, typically, these days. And what a 1/8 violin looks like next to a full-sized cello.
04/12: Pretty black dots
…recent output from Lilypond (PDF). It’s a page from the prelude to Bach’s first suite. I put it together because my teacher had suggested some new bowings, and I got tired of trying to read through all the edits.
Good software, that.
Good software, that.
My lovely daughter has been zipping along on the violin, lately. Though not without some rocky moments.
She’s getting along to the point where she’s expected to use her ear, more, now, just try things. Here’s the melody. Now see if you can work it out…
She’s funny about this. Seems to hate even a whiff of failure, sometimes, really—even such ridiculously small things as playing a D where a C# should be, first time through something. She’s never played the piece before, she’s this tiny little thing playing a 1/10 scale violin, trying to find the notes she’s heard played by others, and somehow she’s got this notion she should just get it right the first time. There are tears, on occasion.
Daddy’s role in practice, then, is just saying, gently, it’s okay, just try it again. That happens all the time. You’re doing fine…
Or just: here, I’ll play it, you wipe your eyes for a bit.
Distraction is good, doing this. I’ll change the focus, for a bit. Wreck my technique, six ways from Sunday, playing the piece, ask her what I’m doing wrong.
It’s a strategy her teacher showed me—presumably something from Suzuki pedagogy. Supposed to put the little one in mind of technique without my having to pick on hers. Theory is she’s more likely to keep instrument and body in proper position if she’s seen someone else blow it badly and then been the one to correct it for them. And it’s a lot easier on her than someone saying ‘you’re doing it wrong.’ Especially if she’s already upset.
And hell, it isn’t hard. Easier, really, than doing it right. I’m no violinist.
Still, it’s at once instructive and a little odd to watch, these moments of upset over a note a semitone off, played by ear. I’m pretty sure I’m not putting that pressure on her, know her teacher isn’t. I can tell my daughter a dozen times everyone does that—that muddling around with something (and hell, sometimes for quite some time) before getting it to the point where you’re happy with it is just what happens when you’re trying to do anything worth doing. Still, she’s so oddly hard on herself.
I take it as an illustration probably relevant to a lot of people. Wonder if we all look so strange, when we drive ourselves that hard, and the merely sane thing anyone watching would say is hey, take it easy, just try it again.
And I find myself thinking at the same time that maybe this isn’t so odd, either—and thus beating yourself (or anyone else) up for getting so brittle over failure would be equally silly. Courage to fail isn’t so easy to come by, looks like.
She’s doing well, though, as I mentioned, when she does calm down, works through it, coaxes the melody she’s hearing in her head out of the instrument. Increasingly sensitive intonation, now, is the latest thing to come in, on and off. Difference between just hacking out the notes and making them sing together. Beautiful to hear.
She’s moving up to a 1/8 scale, now, which is exciting for her, though a bit of a challenge for me. She’s been playing this nice little 1/10 Scott Cao, and I figure I’ve pretty much set the bar, now—I’m going to have to find something comparable in the larger instrument or it’s gonna be a letdown at least, really frustrating at worst.
Not sure we’re there, yet. We’ve picked up a Nagoya Suzuki and a John Juzek—both some fifteen years old, are trying them now. The Suzuki, to my ear, isn’t really up to what the smaller Cao can do—not bad, but not quite the same thing, definitely thinner in the lower strings. The Juzek, on the other hand, has an absolutely lovely tone right down to the G—better than the smaller Cao—but does sound slightly thinner in the E—and maybe worse, is a bit small for a 1/8. So I suspect she’d grow out of it rather quickly. And it’s a bit beat up—varnish, is all, but it makes it a bit of an issue, explaining to a young child that no, scratches aside, this is a great instrument—just whoever owned it last was a bit careless putting the bow in their case. That it’s still an awful lot of violin.
I’m thinking now maybe the thing to do is see if new strings might yet fix the Juzek’s E… and if so we’ll take it, get the varnish touched up, make it pretty the way a little girl expects her violin should be, and just replace it when the time comes, as quickly as it’s going to do.
But we’ll see. We might find something else around, in a bit.
I had a bit of luck, though, doing this. I’d broken my own D string, the morning I was going out to pick up the instruments for trial. Asked the woman who runs the shop if she can help me out while I’m out there—she’s also a cellist—and she says sure, I’ve got strings, can set it back up for you…
I get out there, mention my fine tuners are a bit stiff, and she’s got suggestions…
In the end, I go with two of those. Replace the tailpiece with an ultralight Wittner with integral tuners, go to Pirastro Permanent for the A string, Helicore for the rest. It’s a formula she’s been using. Theory is the ultralight/one-piece boosts resonance a bit—something she’d heard from someone else, tried for herself. She doesn’t know what it is about the string mix—it’s just something she hit upon she likes—but I’m already playing Helicore throughout—I figure changing one string and the tailpiece shouldn’t be a shock.
But it is. Though in a good way. Working my way through some stuff I gotta have ready soon, it’s significant, unmistakeable. Tailpiece makes a definite difference—instrument’s much more responsive, warmer, livelier, real smoothness to the sound—much more than you get just with new strings… thing’s positively singing. The Pirastro’s a subtler change, to my ear, but it does have a certain warm brightness about it—one of the ensemble pieces is this pretty Scandinavian thing, A minor, goes up to the high A—the midstring harmonic—and the melody is just soaring when I get up there. Nothing short of gorgeous, if I do say so myself.
Practice is a pleasure—and now more than ever I’m mildly bitter that I gotta hack out my times from a busy schedule. At 45 minutes, I’m reluctant to stop, get to the business of dinner.
Lucky break, after all.
She’s getting along to the point where she’s expected to use her ear, more, now, just try things. Here’s the melody. Now see if you can work it out…
She’s funny about this. Seems to hate even a whiff of failure, sometimes, really—even such ridiculously small things as playing a D where a C# should be, first time through something. She’s never played the piece before, she’s this tiny little thing playing a 1/10 scale violin, trying to find the notes she’s heard played by others, and somehow she’s got this notion she should just get it right the first time. There are tears, on occasion.
Daddy’s role in practice, then, is just saying, gently, it’s okay, just try it again. That happens all the time. You’re doing fine…
Or just: here, I’ll play it, you wipe your eyes for a bit.
Distraction is good, doing this. I’ll change the focus, for a bit. Wreck my technique, six ways from Sunday, playing the piece, ask her what I’m doing wrong.
It’s a strategy her teacher showed me—presumably something from Suzuki pedagogy. Supposed to put the little one in mind of technique without my having to pick on hers. Theory is she’s more likely to keep instrument and body in proper position if she’s seen someone else blow it badly and then been the one to correct it for them. And it’s a lot easier on her than someone saying ‘you’re doing it wrong.’ Especially if she’s already upset.
And hell, it isn’t hard. Easier, really, than doing it right. I’m no violinist.
Still, it’s at once instructive and a little odd to watch, these moments of upset over a note a semitone off, played by ear. I’m pretty sure I’m not putting that pressure on her, know her teacher isn’t. I can tell my daughter a dozen times everyone does that—that muddling around with something (and hell, sometimes for quite some time) before getting it to the point where you’re happy with it is just what happens when you’re trying to do anything worth doing. Still, she’s so oddly hard on herself.
I take it as an illustration probably relevant to a lot of people. Wonder if we all look so strange, when we drive ourselves that hard, and the merely sane thing anyone watching would say is hey, take it easy, just try it again.
And I find myself thinking at the same time that maybe this isn’t so odd, either—and thus beating yourself (or anyone else) up for getting so brittle over failure would be equally silly. Courage to fail isn’t so easy to come by, looks like.
She’s doing well, though, as I mentioned, when she does calm down, works through it, coaxes the melody she’s hearing in her head out of the instrument. Increasingly sensitive intonation, now, is the latest thing to come in, on and off. Difference between just hacking out the notes and making them sing together. Beautiful to hear.
She’s moving up to a 1/8 scale, now, which is exciting for her, though a bit of a challenge for me. She’s been playing this nice little 1/10 Scott Cao, and I figure I’ve pretty much set the bar, now—I’m going to have to find something comparable in the larger instrument or it’s gonna be a letdown at least, really frustrating at worst.
Not sure we’re there, yet. We’ve picked up a Nagoya Suzuki and a John Juzek—both some fifteen years old, are trying them now. The Suzuki, to my ear, isn’t really up to what the smaller Cao can do—not bad, but not quite the same thing, definitely thinner in the lower strings. The Juzek, on the other hand, has an absolutely lovely tone right down to the G—better than the smaller Cao—but does sound slightly thinner in the E—and maybe worse, is a bit small for a 1/8. So I suspect she’d grow out of it rather quickly. And it’s a bit beat up—varnish, is all, but it makes it a bit of an issue, explaining to a young child that no, scratches aside, this is a great instrument—just whoever owned it last was a bit careless putting the bow in their case. That it’s still an awful lot of violin.
I’m thinking now maybe the thing to do is see if new strings might yet fix the Juzek’s E… and if so we’ll take it, get the varnish touched up, make it pretty the way a little girl expects her violin should be, and just replace it when the time comes, as quickly as it’s going to do.
But we’ll see. We might find something else around, in a bit.
I had a bit of luck, though, doing this. I’d broken my own D string, the morning I was going out to pick up the instruments for trial. Asked the woman who runs the shop if she can help me out while I’m out there—she’s also a cellist—and she says sure, I’ve got strings, can set it back up for you…
I get out there, mention my fine tuners are a bit stiff, and she’s got suggestions…
In the end, I go with two of those. Replace the tailpiece with an ultralight Wittner with integral tuners, go to Pirastro Permanent for the A string, Helicore for the rest. It’s a formula she’s been using. Theory is the ultralight/one-piece boosts resonance a bit—something she’d heard from someone else, tried for herself. She doesn’t know what it is about the string mix—it’s just something she hit upon she likes—but I’m already playing Helicore throughout—I figure changing one string and the tailpiece shouldn’t be a shock.
But it is. Though in a good way. Working my way through some stuff I gotta have ready soon, it’s significant, unmistakeable. Tailpiece makes a definite difference—instrument’s much more responsive, warmer, livelier, real smoothness to the sound—much more than you get just with new strings… thing’s positively singing. The Pirastro’s a subtler change, to my ear, but it does have a certain warm brightness about it—one of the ensemble pieces is this pretty Scandinavian thing, A minor, goes up to the high A—the midstring harmonic—and the melody is just soaring when I get up there. Nothing short of gorgeous, if I do say so myself.
Practice is a pleasure—and now more than ever I’m mildly bitter that I gotta hack out my times from a busy schedule. At 45 minutes, I’m reluctant to stop, get to the business of dinner.
Lucky break, after all.
Y’know what I absolutely love?
I love it when I find myself thinking, gee, wouldn’t it be great if such and such a piece of software existed…
Like, say, a sheet music typesetter that works from a markup language, sorta like LaTeX, but for music…
And then I think… naw, that’s too weird; I’m the only guy who’s gonna want something like that… I’m the only guy who gets why that would be so damned much better than screwing around with the mouse the way all the commercial packages require… No way someone’s already done it…
But then I think, damn, but that would be awesome software, all the same, maybe I should just do it myself…
And then I think, naw, no way. It would be so nice to have such a thing, but I ain’t got time…
And then I discover there already is such a thing?
And it’s open source, free, and freakin’ wonderfully done…
So wonderfully done the markup language is at once as obvious and as powerful as you could possibly ask. What? An A major scale, you say? How ‘bout just typing a b cis d e fis gis a?
So wonderfully done it already quite painlessly supports such useful stuff for my purposes as up and down bow marks and fingering notes…
So wonderfully done it actually makes considerably prettier sheet music than the annoyingly mouse-heavy commercial packages I already use…
So powerful, people are using it happily for full orchestral scores…
And there’s already a whole community of people publishing public-domain music in said markup language, free for download…
Like, say, Bach’s unaccompanied cello suites…
And because they publish the source, you can stick in your own bowings, fingerings, whatever the hell you feel like…
And contemplating this, I find myself thinking, damn, sometimes the open source community positively scares me with the odd little ways they change the world… In a mostly good way…
Yeah. I absolutely love that.
Lilypond. It’s just awesome.
I love it when I find myself thinking, gee, wouldn’t it be great if such and such a piece of software existed…
Like, say, a sheet music typesetter that works from a markup language, sorta like LaTeX, but for music…
And then I think… naw, that’s too weird; I’m the only guy who’s gonna want something like that… I’m the only guy who gets why that would be so damned much better than screwing around with the mouse the way all the commercial packages require… No way someone’s already done it…
But then I think, damn, but that would be awesome software, all the same, maybe I should just do it myself…
And then I think, naw, no way. It would be so nice to have such a thing, but I ain’t got time…
And then I discover there already is such a thing?
And it’s open source, free, and freakin’ wonderfully done…
So wonderfully done the markup language is at once as obvious and as powerful as you could possibly ask. What? An A major scale, you say? How ‘bout just typing a b cis d e fis gis a?
So wonderfully done it already quite painlessly supports such useful stuff for my purposes as up and down bow marks and fingering notes…
So wonderfully done it actually makes considerably prettier sheet music than the annoyingly mouse-heavy commercial packages I already use…
So powerful, people are using it happily for full orchestral scores…
And there’s already a whole community of people publishing public-domain music in said markup language, free for download…
Like, say, Bach’s unaccompanied cello suites…
And because they publish the source, you can stick in your own bowings, fingerings, whatever the hell you feel like…
And contemplating this, I find myself thinking, damn, sometimes the open source community positively scares me with the odd little ways they change the world… In a mostly good way…
Yeah. I absolutely love that.
Lilypond. It’s just awesome.
24/07: Mixin' wit' da godly
Played with the aforementioned eight or so cellos outside a church last week.
It was a payment in kind thing. Church had very kindly lent us a hall to practice in, so we gave them a concert outside their doors
Yes, outside the doors, so no, this didn’t put me or any of my fellow cellists (a few of whom, I’m given to understand, are also heathens and apostates and affiliated riff-raff like me) actually in a church service. That arrangement had more, however, to do with the misgivings of my teacher than anything I had to say on the matter.
She’s Jewish, but this wasn’t so much the issue either. Rather, she apparently made the mistake of agreeing on the group’s behalf to playing actually in a service (with a different church) some time ago. It turned out to be a buncha fire ‘n brimstone fundagelical types, and apparently the preacher did what sounded to me from her third party account as a fairly typical ‘burn sinners burn’ thing for his sermon. There’s a few kids that play with the group—some quite young, and some quite good, incidentally—and my teacher tells me that after said preacherly frothing, one of those kids, from a non-churchgoing family, presumably, turned to this parents, asked of them, looking a mite upset, whether he was going to hell.
I could make an aside here that among the many things that disgust me about fundamentalism, scaring kids with such sadistic accounts of enraged all-powerful sky fairies strikes me as one of the sicker things they do. There’s very little that’s uglier than seeing Mr. Preacher Psycho telling impressionable young children tales of these bogeymen from the fevered, vengeful imaginations of equally psychotic cementheads from previous centuries. Ah yes, little Billy, we all luuv ya here, and Gawd luuvs ya, and here’s a graphic, manipulative description of your flesh being roasted from your bones for all eternity to keep in mind should you violate our twisted, hypocritical excuse for a moral code. Sweet dreams.
Sick, that, if anything is. Almost up there with telling a frightened, unwed pregnant teenager she’s a miserable sinner for having had sex, and now they get to say what happens to a few hundred cells forming in her uterine wall, and, by extension, her future. But I digress.
Anyway, my teacher set a policy after that: no more services, no more preaching. We’ll play outside, away from worship proper, thanks, for such events. Which we did on this occasion.
We sounded good, overall, I’d say. I wound up with some waver in my solo bits I didn’t like—tired muscles in the bow arm—I’m working on it. At any rate, the godly present didn’t do any fire ‘n brimstone stuff outside.
It was unlikely, mind you. They weren’t that sort of denomination. Just calm, nice folk, who applauded very appreciatively. For all that I have to say about the superstitions they spend their Sundays on, I will say this: the folk that follow that stuff still know a pretty cadence when they hear it, as well as anyone. I guess that’s something.
Good thing, though, there was no such frothing nonsense about hellfire. There were children, with their tiny little cellos, playing. And all I’d have had with which to hit anybody who would have been so foolish as to talk nonsense of brimstone in front of them was my cello.
And that would have been a shame, ending a concert like that. You can’t generally repair that kind of damage to a string instrument.
It was a payment in kind thing. Church had very kindly lent us a hall to practice in, so we gave them a concert outside their doors
Yes, outside the doors, so no, this didn’t put me or any of my fellow cellists (a few of whom, I’m given to understand, are also heathens and apostates and affiliated riff-raff like me) actually in a church service. That arrangement had more, however, to do with the misgivings of my teacher than anything I had to say on the matter.
She’s Jewish, but this wasn’t so much the issue either. Rather, she apparently made the mistake of agreeing on the group’s behalf to playing actually in a service (with a different church) some time ago. It turned out to be a buncha fire ‘n brimstone fundagelical types, and apparently the preacher did what sounded to me from her third party account as a fairly typical ‘burn sinners burn’ thing for his sermon. There’s a few kids that play with the group—some quite young, and some quite good, incidentally—and my teacher tells me that after said preacherly frothing, one of those kids, from a non-churchgoing family, presumably, turned to this parents, asked of them, looking a mite upset, whether he was going to hell.
I could make an aside here that among the many things that disgust me about fundamentalism, scaring kids with such sadistic accounts of enraged all-powerful sky fairies strikes me as one of the sicker things they do. There’s very little that’s uglier than seeing Mr. Preacher Psycho telling impressionable young children tales of these bogeymen from the fevered, vengeful imaginations of equally psychotic cementheads from previous centuries. Ah yes, little Billy, we all luuv ya here, and Gawd luuvs ya, and here’s a graphic, manipulative description of your flesh being roasted from your bones for all eternity to keep in mind should you violate our twisted, hypocritical excuse for a moral code. Sweet dreams.
Sick, that, if anything is. Almost up there with telling a frightened, unwed pregnant teenager she’s a miserable sinner for having had sex, and now they get to say what happens to a few hundred cells forming in her uterine wall, and, by extension, her future. But I digress.
Anyway, my teacher set a policy after that: no more services, no more preaching. We’ll play outside, away from worship proper, thanks, for such events. Which we did on this occasion.
We sounded good, overall, I’d say. I wound up with some waver in my solo bits I didn’t like—tired muscles in the bow arm—I’m working on it. At any rate, the godly present didn’t do any fire ‘n brimstone stuff outside.
It was unlikely, mind you. They weren’t that sort of denomination. Just calm, nice folk, who applauded very appreciatively. For all that I have to say about the superstitions they spend their Sundays on, I will say this: the folk that follow that stuff still know a pretty cadence when they hear it, as well as anyone. I guess that’s something.
Good thing, though, there was no such frothing nonsense about hellfire. There were children, with their tiny little cellos, playing. And all I’d have had with which to hit anybody who would have been so foolish as to talk nonsense of brimstone in front of them was my cello.
And that would have been a shame, ending a concert like that. You can’t generally repair that kind of damage to a string instrument.
17/07: More performance anxiety
So I’m playing in this cello choir. My instructor runs one. Pretty cool concept—eight (or so—attendance varies a bit) cellos in a room, four part harmonies, some rounds, some canons. We pass the charts around, try different things.
When it works well, it’s incredible. That many big instruments all together, the sound is so rich it should probably be a controlled substance. It’s this gorgeous tapestry of sound, just shot through with those big, tenor- and alto-range resonances.
But damn, it’s hard on the nerves sometimes. For me, at least. I’m finding it really hard to hear myself, with all those instruments in my range, all around me—a lot harder than playing with violins and the like. And I’m one of those guys who relies on his ear a lot—I’ve got a good one, and I’m not far along enough along on the instrument that I can just stab a string with my finger and know I’m going to get the intonation I want. I can sound durned pretty on a part I know… but only if I can hear myself well enough to keep things precise. Add to that the rather confusing fact that not everyone around me is always dead-on, either, and it’s thoroughly rattling, sometimes.
So we’ve got this thing coming up—no biggy, really—but I’m still getting the heebie jeebies, anyway. Thinkin’: there’s lots of players. I’ll just say I’m inconveniently far away that week… Like, say, maybe in Tokyo.
Either that, or I’ll just get slightly drunk, first.
No, it won’t help my intonation. But I’ll care less.
When it works well, it’s incredible. That many big instruments all together, the sound is so rich it should probably be a controlled substance. It’s this gorgeous tapestry of sound, just shot through with those big, tenor- and alto-range resonances.
But damn, it’s hard on the nerves sometimes. For me, at least. I’m finding it really hard to hear myself, with all those instruments in my range, all around me—a lot harder than playing with violins and the like. And I’m one of those guys who relies on his ear a lot—I’ve got a good one, and I’m not far along enough along on the instrument that I can just stab a string with my finger and know I’m going to get the intonation I want. I can sound durned pretty on a part I know… but only if I can hear myself well enough to keep things precise. Add to that the rather confusing fact that not everyone around me is always dead-on, either, and it’s thoroughly rattling, sometimes.
So we’ve got this thing coming up—no biggy, really—but I’m still getting the heebie jeebies, anyway. Thinkin’: there’s lots of players. I’ll just say I’m inconveniently far away that week… Like, say, maybe in Tokyo.
Either that, or I’ll just get slightly drunk, first.
No, it won’t help my intonation. But I’ll care less.
