On the structure of a Haydn symphony:
Ceri: I get it! It’s four twelve-minute pieces of music, not one fifty-minute piece of music! And each separate piece builds on the last ones until it all gets to one end!
I love being with people when they figure something like this out. The excitement is catching. It was just what I needed on the drive home.
Edited to reflect a different emphasis Feb 9, 9:42 am. And that pesky word “not” was shifted as well.
I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.
When I look back over the weekend, I wonder how I survived it. (The likely answer? Sugar. But I digress.)
Chamber orchestra rehearsal Saturday morning and early afternoon: brilliant. Teaching our first level 2 class of the session: fantastic. An unexpected evening off, when I’d been looking forward to some thought-provoking discussion with friends, but HRH’s cold got the better of him and there was no way I was trying to park out in narrow snow-covered streets. I prepped for the first lecture of the level 3 session instead: wonderful. The actual delivery of the level 3 lecture this afternoon: excellent. Yes, everything seemed fine until I got to the Beethoven rehearsal this afternoon, where I started to fumble and my energy began to flag.
All I wanted to do was sit back and play lovely, liquidy Andantes or Largos. Instead I was plunged directly into the fourth movement, where I rattled around in the Masteosos and Prestissimos, trying to settle into the rhythm. I was given a slight respite at the end for twenty minutes or so when we worked a bit of the third movement, but then it was rushing home, not being able to find parking nearby, lugging the cello home through snowbanks, a quick bath, an even quicker bowl of spaghetti with homemade sauce (thank you, my love), lugging the cello back to the car, and off to the chamber orchestra concert.
Where, yet again, turnout was disappointing. Not personally, mind you; I had four people there. If, as our conductor pointed out, we all had four people come to hear us play, we’d have an audience of almost two hundred.
I believe the lack of audience affected our performance. I personally think that our Saturday morning dress rehearsal had more life and energy to it than did tonight’s performance. Anyone who’s ever performed knows that a good audience has a significant impact on the morale and output of the artists involved. The small audience we had was enthusiastic and appreciative, but there’s something about glancing up at the conductor and noticing a sea of empty space dotted by a few people behind him.
Ah well. There’s always July. The July concert is always packed. And rumour has it we’ll be playing our May concert in Hudson, so we’ll have a new location from which to draw attendees.
Speaking of audiences, my parents will be in town for the Beethoven next weekend. I’m looking forward to it immensely, as I haven’t seen them since Christmas morning. So I’ll have both sets of parents in the audience next weekend – that’s a treat!
I thought I had tomorrow off, but on the way home I remembered that I’d promised to have those final two chapters edited and back by tomorrow morning. That was terribly optimistic of me. I intend to feel dreadfully sorry for myself for the rest of the evening, and perhaps some of tomorrow mornign as well. By noon, it wil be gone, and I can get some more research done.
Speaking of research: anyone know Bruckner’s Mass in F Minor? What’s it like? It’s the main programme for the May 1 Cantabile concert, and I don’t want to commit to four Sunday rehearsals in April, dividing my time between teaching and rehearsing, unless I absolutely love the piece we’re to play. And there’s rumours of the orchestra doing Strauss’ Death and Transfiguration before the mass.
I can’t think that far ahead at the moment. I can’t even think past Monday at noon.
Just got back from our chamber orchestra dress rehearsal, and damn, we’re good!
The music we’re playing this time around is so pretty and bright (except for the Adagio by Albinoni, but it’s dramatic, so it provides a good contrast to the rest!), and it’s just what people need in February, after yet another dump of snow. The church we’re playing in — St Paul’s Anglican on 44th Ave in Lachine — is an arched church done in warm panelled wood, and stone, with beautiful windows and lighting. And — get this — it has a carpet. It’s a good thing I wore a t-shirt and a cardigan today, because when I arrived I realised it was too warm for a sweater. Such a nice change from the cold, echoey church we usually play in during the winter! The sound is phenomenal, too — nice and rich. All in all, it’s the ideal setting for a winter night of chamber music.
I brought tea along with me this morning in my shiny thermal mug, and I picked up a granola bar on the way. “Can you eat and play cello at the same time?” my stand partner asked. “Sure,” I said perkily. “I can multi-task. Got my tea, got my breakfast, got my Haydn. What more could I want?” I adore Haydn, and today’s rendition of the London Symphony no. 104 made me smile the whole way through. In fact, most of the pieces we’re playing make me smile. I have to curtail my foot-tapping and bouncing to the music, I think; it’s just that I’m enjoying myself so much that I can’t help it. It’s nice to see other musicians reacting the same way as well. A performance is always enhanced indescribably when the performers have a good time. I’d love to play regularly on a Saturday morning. The people are so much more relaxed. Mind you, I think the wonderful place we played in had something to do with that as well. The school auditorium we rehearse in is grey and cold, and we’re all tired after a day of work. Today had a very different vibe. I really think the environment has a lot to do with it. Warm colors, warm air, cheerful decor; such a nice change from the auditorium, and the concrete of the Valois church.
I love chamber orchestra because we actually play Baroque and early classical music, two of my favourite periods. This time, we have two stellar oboeists (not one, but two!) who are playing the Albinoni Double Oboe Concerto. I adore this concerto — mind you, I love most Baroque concetos, but you so rarely hear oboes! However, to my disappointment, our conductor regretfully cut three-quarters of the orchestra out of it this morning. The church is so wonderful acoustically that the enriches sound, and as a result the orchestra — even when playing pianissimo — was drowing out the oboes. So we reluctantly turned to concertino style, and only the first two musicians of each section are playing accompaniment. As disappointed as I am, I have to admit it sounds phenomenal.
It’s going to be a fantastic evening! And it’s closer and much easier to get to than the other church in Valois. The 191 bus from Lionel-Groulx stops right on the corner of Broadway and 44th, and the church is a block and a half up on the west side. I used to take the 191 all the time, and the bus ride to this venue is less than half an hour. (Yes, that link takes you to the schedules. On Sunday night, the 191 leaves Lionel-Groulx at 7 pm exactly, and you’ll get to the church for about 7:20.) Or, you could always wheedle a lift out of someone with a vehicle. The more people you fit in a car, the more people could split the cost of a ticket for the driver as a thank-you.
For an evening of excellent music in a beautiful setting, the travel time and only ten dollars are a small price to pay. If you missed the last one, don’t miss this one! If you’ve never experienced the Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra in performance, this is the concert to catch as a brilliant introduction. Check the Performing section of the righthand sidebar for address and programme details.
The migraine is back. It was lurking.
Just sent off those chapters, and I’m taking a good long break before looking at the next ones. I currently have an aromatherapy jar with lavender oil going right in front of my keyboard, both for the headache and to counteract the smell of burnt eggs that’s been hanging around since a neighbour got off to a bad start this morning.
My cello strings still haven’t arrived, so I’ll have to play this weekend’s concert with my old ones. Not great, but not the end of the world; it’s the Beethoven next weekend I’m more worried about.
After a migraine which removed me from the end of our weekly afternoon writing jam, and prevented me from the much-anticipated Changeling game last evening, I feel bruised all over this morning. Migraines creep up on me; they masquerade as regular headaches until about four hours later I realise that the multiples of Advil I’ve taken have done absolutely no good, sound is bothering me, and light is hurting my eyes. At that point there’s nothing to do but curl up in a dark, dark, quiet room and sleep it off.
Ceri, your pizza was fabulous, and just what I needed when I woke up from a nightmare of being attacked and unable to breathe or swallow. It seems that I fell asleep on my stomach and turned my face into the pillow at some point.
I had a warm bath with lavendar oil after I ate, and that helped a bit too. (That and drinking over a liter of water; but I digress.) Cricket ended up walking around the edge of the tub when I got out. She made one careful tour, and I complimented her on her elegance and dexterity and told her to get down. Naturally, being a cat, she ignored me, and started round again. Three-quarters of the way through, she slipped and fell into the four inches of water left in the draining tub. Being quick of mind, I slammed the bathroom door shut and grabbed her with a towel. I started to dry her, but she was a squirmit and insisted on being let down. I set her on the bathmat where she calmly licked all the wet parts I hadn’t dried off. She wasn’t freaked out, which makes sense; Cricket’s the one who flips the drinking dish to play in the water on the kitchen floor. She was probably more annoyed at breaking her tub-walking record than anything else.
So I’m fragile but functional this morning, which is a good thing because I only got thirty pages into the set of chapters I have to have edited by this afternoon, and there’s still ninety-six pages to go. I don’t know what it is with this author — it almost seems as if this is an old draft, because I know we’ve fixed some of this stuff before…
I truly dislike photo shoots. The one that I have just suffered through was, in fact, relatively painless. Probably because my husband was the photographer.
Why did I force myself through this dreadful process? Because, dear readers, it’s in my contract that the Publisher has the right to use my name and likeness to promote the new series. Hence the need for a likeness to send down.
We used two alternating cameras, just as extra insurance. Different hairstyles, different clothes, different poses. Glasses off, glasses on.
Now we have three rolls of film to develop (yes, there was one in our camera already, and no, I have no earthly idea what’s on it — oh, wait, Elim (muah-hah-hah), and various Yule celebrations, including the now-traditional shot of myself and Roo. Right.)
I’ll get them same-day processed, then HRH and I will pore over the various shots to choose the three best, and I’ll have them enlarged to 8 x 10 formats. Then I’ll Purolate them down to Boston, accompanied by the signed contracts that arrived in today’s mail.
If nothing else, I’ll have piles of photos to send to my grandmother and my parents and such.
As of today, my imprint specialist contract should be in the mail. I’ll get it next week, sign it, and then somewhere along the next four weeks get a tidy US check to sink into my bank account to help chase away the winter blues. Half will go onto my Visa; the rest will sit and gather interest. And then, then I will go out and look at sewing machines. And a filing cabinet.
I took a look at the first date I scribbled down in my notebook that’s reserved for work with this publisher. On August 6 I had the first phone conversation with my contact, where we began to throw ideas back and forth and the position of series editor was brought up.
On Friday, it will have been six months since that day. I didn’t sign an official contract until October, but I started working with them before that.
Six months. Half a year.
Wow.