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.
