Category Archives: Music

Musical Madness

If there’s one thing that playing medleys of musicals for the Canada Day concert does for me, it’s reawaken my interest in musicals. On one hand the medleys are frustrating: they’re all arrangements and never exactly the same as the original song, which makes playing them somewhat counter-intuitive (there’s lots of but but but that’s NOT the rhythm of the song! when one begins playing a theme, and I have to try to not think about the original and play what’s in front of me). Plus they require several lightning-fast changes of key and time signatures, and challenge me to think fast.

On the other hand, they remind me of how much I love musicals. And as a result, over the past few years I’ve ended up replacing some of the musicals I only had on cassette tape so that I could listen to them again. This year, thanks to the efforts of Gmarc and his parents, I’ve acquired My Fair Lady (hurrah for Julie Andrews and Rex Harrison! — and this is actually the second My Fair Lady medley I’ve done with the orchestra; I believe the first (and substantially different) one was done for the first Canada Day concert I did with them), and South Pacific (which I have managed to not hear throughout my entire life). And with Sandman7 delivering an intense rendition of “On the Street Where You Live” at his recital last week, well, we’ve revisited the idea of organizing the occasional musical movie night at some point for the musical lovers of the group.

Now, astute readers will already know that we are also playing a Sound of Music medley this July. I know The Sound of Music; I watched the film several times as a child (despite the fact that for years I thought it ended with the wedding, thanks to bedtime and what I suspect was also my mother’s caring attempt to keep me blissfully ignorant about war and Nazis until I was mature enough to understand it), and heard selections in various school concerts over the years. I used to sing “Edelweiss” to the boy when he was very tiny and needed help falling asleep.

The thing about The Sound of Music is that its themes are particularly insidious. I have found myself singing them at odd times since we started rehearsing the medley. Normally to cure this I would throw the CD in the player and I’d be over it in a couple of days. However, The Sound of Music is not and has never been among my albums or soundtracks. (Well, there was a Julie Andrews compilation LP I had as a child, but that is long, long gone.)

So when the boy wakes up I’m going to take him out to the shops to pick up a copy of The Sound of Music soundtrack; it’s a $9.99 bargain CD now and I’ll be using a gift certificate I’ve been saving in my wallet. I think the boy will enjoy the songs too. Rodgers and Hammerstein aren’t exactly They Might Be Giants, but time supports the fact that they did turn out catchy tunes, so we’ll see what the boy makes of it.

Maybe someday we’ll do a medley of one of my favourite musicals, such as Kiss Me Kate or Showboat.

A Sudden Abundance Of Live Music, And Thoughts Deriving From It

I’m tired, but there are things worthy of noting.

Invisible completely and totally rocked the house on Friday night, with a double set and a terrific cohesive sound. Every one of them keeps getting better and better. There was much dancing, and I don’t normally dance. There was much singing as well, and I hope I didn’t drive Jan too crazy with it. It was terrific to see people I haven’t seen in forever, too. Also, I had a very good margarita. “You really seemed to be enjoying yourself,” HRH said on the way home. “I think it’s important to obviously demonstrate to a performer that you appreciate what they’re doing,” I said. “There’s nothing worse than being on stage and seeing a sea of dead expressions in front of you, applause or not.” Sure, I could have sat there unmoving and enjoyed myself just as much, but the music was good and it moved and what the guys were doing on stage for us moved me.

Did I miss being on stage? Yes. But not enough to throw myself back into band. I miss the times when it was going well. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go well most of the time. I miss it when we’re actually making music, not talking about unrelated things or wasting time. I certainly don’t miss the amount of energy that went into it. Or rather, I prefer to have that energy to put into other things, like living my day to day life (thank you so very much, FMS). I’d like to get back into band someday. Someday is not soon, however. We’ll all be different people somewhere down the line and that will make a positive difference as well. I’d like to explore other kinds of music in a small ensemble too, at some point, with different people.

The evening before I enjoyed Marc’s vocal recital, presented by all his teacher’s students. (Live music two nights in a row! I don’t think I’m greedy, just starved for culture.) There were about half a dozen of them and they all sang three songs, ranging from Broadway to pop to chamber songs and opera arias. It was great, and I saw a handful of the people who I would see again the next night, but in an even more relaxed atmosphere. We kibbutzed outside for an hour after the show was over, and that was just as wonderful as the recital itself, in a different way. I took a moment to look around both on Thursday and Friday night, and saw people with whom I’d stayed in touch for fifteen to twenty years as well as those I’d met within the last ten or so. I really miss my friends, and it was felt really, really good to be with them.

There’s this quirk that I have: My eyes tear up suddenly when I’m really enjoying something musical. It doesn’t mean I’m particularly sad or happy or overcome by what the music is communicating. It actually has more to do with appreciating the fact that the performer is offering something, similar to what I outlined above. Marc was the first one up at the recital, a position that carries a lot of responsibility, and he sang “On the Street Where You Live” from My Fair Lady. About a third of the way through the first verse I had that tearing-up response, and I thought about what was happening. I was experiencing a surge of emotion, not as a response to the music but a response to what Marc was doing: he was reaching out to his listeners and offering them something, and I was moved by it. It seems to be an empathic response. It’s not in response to the words, or the music itself. It’s in response to the performer. It does have an emotional connection, of course, but it’s not primarily an emotional reaction.

This happens when I imagine performing myself. It doesn’t happen while I’m actually performing (or it does, but extremely rarely); rather, it happens when I visualise performing certain pieces of music. I have a very strong ability to visualise, and I invest a lot of emotion into it. It’s one of the ways I practise when I can’t be at my instrument. I’m also very good at imagining several different lines of music simultaneously, including my own line. (I think this is one of the reasons why I love working in an orchestral setting so much, and also one of the reasons why I get frustrated very easily in small ensembles without a coach; it’s hard for real performers to live up to what’s happening in my head.) In these cases, my response seems to be connected to the visualisation of the joint act of the performers in the ensemble reaching out to the audience. And this too may be one of the reasons I was dissatisfied with band: I very rarely felt that reaching out-ness happening, or a sense of the audience being moved by what we were offering. There was a lot of struggle that never felt like it resolved or settled into an actual delivery of something.

I’ve thought about this response a lot, and I still can’t quite put it into the right words. There’s something about the simultaneous identification with the performer as well as being an audience too, but I can’t pin it down yet. There’s also something about receiving and returning energy, which I know I’ve talked about before in lectures and discussion and very likely at some point in this journal as well.

I don’t have the opportunity to experience live music as an audience member very much, so this past week has been extremely precious to me. I’m very proud of everyone who performed, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I hope they all know that. And I hope that somehow I managed to communicate that I appreciated what they offered.

…

I finally got through to the luthier this morning. The 7/8 I was going to book for a week-long home trial sold last week.

Olivier has promised to order another one in for me to try. He has no idea when he’ll have it, though.

I’m either numb or unmoved by it. A bit disappointed, but mainly because I’d made sure my principal was going to be at orchestra this coming week to look at it. Now I won’t be able to run it by her until September. But then, I’m not having much of an emotional reaction to anything these days. I’m really run down and I just don’t have the energy.

One Of Those “Ah!” Moments

Something a lot of people don’t understand is that singing while playing the cello is hard. People sing while playing guitar all the time; why can’t cellists sing too? Despite how easy Jorane makes it look, it’s really a challenge and it’s something I’ve never really been able to articulate to other musicians other than to say, “No, it’s just hard.”

I finally figured out why, thanks to a thread over at NewDirectionsCello.com. Someone asked why it’s so hard, and why guitarists can do it with greater ease, and someone hit on the answer. It’s because the physicality of playing the cello is more involved and complex than that of playing the guitar. Basically, the movements required and the muscles used include those of the muscles one would use to sing.

To expound: one uses one’s ENTIRE body to play the cello, to especially include the diaphragm and body core (EVERY muscle is highly active in cello performance, to include even the legs and feet). Breathing is extremely important with the cello, ergo a conflict may ensue between the cello and voice.

And that’s a huge part of it. To begin with, it’s hard to sing sitting down, because your torso has less room to expand and there’s less support for the column of air. It’s difficult to keep the muscles in the centre of the body relaxed enough while playing to use them to sing as well. Sure, you could play standing up (again I point to Jorane as an example), but that requires learning an entire new style of physically playing the instrument. Your angles are different, the weight distribution is different, and so forth. And basically it’s hard to use muscles for two different things at once, when each requires so much energy. One might as well ask a saxophonist to tap dance while playing, for example.

Apart from that, other musicians on the thread (who play both instruments) pointed out that the cello seems to take more attention to play. This may be because of all the frequent and freakishly minute muscular changes constantly required to balance movement and direction in both hands and arms, for example. Some say they can sing along only if the cello line is simple enough (and, one imagines, the key). Others have problems with the rhythm of the vocal and the cello lines being different. It’s all food for thought, and provided me with an “Aha!” moment. I know how involved my torso muscles are when I play, and I wonder why I never made the connection before.

More 7/8 Adventure

Feel free to skip this; it’s another record of my impressions of a different 7/8 cello that I’m writing out for my own reference.

I am so glad I recorded this session; listening to it, I can hear things I didn’t hear while I was playing. I can also hear the comments HRH and I made about what was happening, which are also valuable. Also, the recorder captured this exchange:

LIAM: That’s Z Y X! Mama is playing Z Y X!

[MAMA plays the song]

LIAM: Mama, you did it!

MAMA: I did it.

LIAM: That’s my favourite song, Z Y X!

MAMA: Z Y X is your favourite song?

LIAM: It is! The song! Like in the movie!

MAMA: Do you want me to play it again?

LIAM: No.

Right away I could hear that the sound is fuller and richer than my current cello. However, it has the same hello-I-am-an-open-A-string thing that mine has, whereas the other 7/8 didn’t. Like the other one, the bridge is less arched so I was bumping strings, used to needing larger movements to cross between strings. My shifts were mostly a fraction off too, because the 7/8 is shorter. But wow, I can’t get over how much lighter a 7/8 is, and how much easier it is to move around. The 7/8 size just fits me so very much better.

This one had a less shiny varnish, and the colour was more of a red-brown. It’s a Scarlatti model 301 from the shop of Xuechang Sun in China (Beijing, I believe). The 301 is a co-operative workshop-made cello, not handmade by one person. It’s fully carved and has a lighter coat of varnish than I’m used to; it’s not as shiny as the other 7/8 or my own cello, and I can actually see the grain of the wood as sort of furrows on the surface instead of having them all filled in. The colour is a red-brown, very much like the colour of this cello.

It’s easy to play. Other than adjusting my shifts and spacing I didn’t have to fight to get a good sound out of it. The recording demonstrates that the lower strings project and are well-defined, as are the upper strings. The upper strings are crisp, almost too crisp for my taste. I didn’t ask what it was strung with, but I suspect Jargars and Larsens, a setup I’ve always disliked despite its popularity. (A quick check of string winding tables tells me that two were definitely Larsens but I’m mystified as to what the other two were.) I like my strings to be very smoothly balanced, and I’m not someone who pushes to have the sound from the top strings be punchy. I prefer it mellow across the board.

I looked at their hard cases, too. They had the Bobelock Deluxe case with wheels there, priced at $560. The salesgirl thinks the Slimline model without wheels would be about $500. And then, before I could bring it up, right away she said everything would depend on how a case would fit a 7/8 as well: would we be able to insert extra padding, how secure would it be, and so forth. (Bam makes case pads that you can insert in any hard case, but the question is how much padding would I need; for example, the hard case I have now would need way too much padding to be safe.) Wheels are very nice, but they usually add two to three pounds overall. I’d prefer something lighter. Of course, the lightest cases are way out of my price range; there’s no point in spending $1,500 on a case if the cello is about the same price. (Hmm, I just found a listing for a Bam light case that’s less expensive than even the Bobelock. That’s worth looking into.)

Overall, I’d be happy with this cello, but I think I prefer the other 7/8. I’ll need to play it again, of course, and it will be good to have a recording of each to hear to help me get a handle on the sound. On a shallow level I prefer the colour of the wood and varnish, but I feel that the sound was more even across all four strings in the first one as well. And the thousand-dollar cheaper price tag doesn’t hurt, either.

I’ll call the new luthier this week to make a reservation to take the Eastman 7/8 home for a trial the first week of June. My old luthier is just as easy-going about a home trial: sure, you can take it for a week, just leave us your contact info and your driver’s licence number. Call us when you have an idea of when you want to reserve it. If I can’t decide I might book both for a simultaneous trial, but I suspect that won’t be necessary. And if either sells before I can buy it, whichever one I choose, both shops can reorder another one for me. No pressure.

While on our way out, I pointed a 1/4 size cello out to Liam. “For me?” he said hopefully, his face glowing. I can always tell when he is honestly touched or overwhelmed by something because he gets quiet, and he delivered his words in that quiet sort of way. “Not yet,” I said. “If next year you still really want to play, then we’ll start looking into it.”

So there: our second 7/8 adventure. The next step is booking the first one for a week-long home trial.

Monday

I worked all weekend. Saturday morning we went out and about for a bit, but I worked in the afternoon, chasing the end of an idea for the new YA novel and setting things up for the MS review. Yesterday was eight hours of freelance MS review, and I’ll be finished it by the end of today. Then I can turn to changing the hearthcraft book as per orders.

It’s Victoria Day and a holiday here in Canada, so HRH is home. I’m thankful because it gives me a day to work and I don’t have to pay a caregiver. The weather is rainy and cold, which is unfortunate. HRH and the boy went off to the EcoMuseum this morning but I’ve just had a call telling me that it’s pouring out there so they’re heading to an indoor playground instead. I made pretzels this morning and have already finished my second one. I need to have quick and easy food available to me in the mornings, and the granola bars I make to see me through the week disappear in a day or so, eaten as snacks. There’s a new loaf of bread rising too. Over the weekend HRH reset the vegetable bed, tilled our compost into it, and planted peas, corn, carrots, and onions. I forgot about getting seed potatoes, so maybe next year. There’s corn and sunflowers strewn along the side of the house too. We’ll see what happens. All my herbs are coming back, and we’re going to get peppers and lettuce and maybe some cucumbers. We always end up with one or two leftover tomato plants from other people, and I’m the only one who eats them in the house so there’s no point in planting our own.

One year ago today was the live dual-band gig. The year off has been good. I do miss playing, but I only miss the parts where it was going well. I don’t think anyone misses the time eaten up by rehearsals and travelling to rehearsals and home practice. Even if we’d been in the headspace to keep going, various health issues, work commitments, and plain old timetable incompatibility on everyone’s part would have forced us to go on hiatus anyhow. All those things logically preclude a reunion at this time. I am very much looking forward to being at Invisible’s upcoming show and not having to worry about conserving my voice or energy for our own performance.

Unless something miraculous happens (like an anonymous money order for fifteen hundred dollars arriving in my mailbox) I’m not going to have the new 7/8 cello in time for the Canada Day concert. I’m disappointed, but I’ll live. I suspect it will have been sold by the time I can buy it this summer, so I may not have one at all until this fall. I wonder if a home trial of this one is even worth it. I’m glum about it, because it was pretty much the one thing keeping me upbeat about things this past month.

Right. To work.

More 7/8 Nattering, With A Side Of Other Stuff

My principal cellist thinks I should get the 7/8. Of course she’s going to listen to critically in a couple of weeks when I take it home on trial, but she strongly endorses the lateral trade notion. She thinks the size and proportion difference will have a positive impact on my playing and comfort.

I am being enabled on all sides. People, you’re killing me! I can’t afford this for another month, assuming my second hearthcraft cheque arrives around the eight week post-delivery mark (which is not guaranteed). And on top of that I need to do about three hundred dollars’ worth of repairs on the cello I’ve got now. And somewhere along the way we need to do the new computer thing, too, although it’s not critical now that I’ve got the laptop pretty much set up for now. Neither is the cello, of course. I hate being in limbo about so much, work-wise and otherwise.

There is some good news today, however: the publisher with whom I set up the freelance manuscript review gig contacted me this morning and told me they’d pretty much settled after their move and were beginning operations again. So that’s less on hold than it was.