It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (Lesson #2)

I was rushed on the day of my first cello lesson.  My second was the opposite.  I practiced a little before leaving, and I arrived fifteen minutes early so I wandered around a bit and took pictures.

At my last lesson, we discovered that one of my strings was vibrating against the fingerboard and making a hideous buzzing sound.  That problem went away on its own, to my great relief.

I told my teacher, as I will tell you now, that I've decided to play cello in the orchestra this set.  It's just silly to be in an orchestra and not play.  As much as I loved being dues bitch last set, it was kind of depressing to watch everyone else play while I sat and did nothing but stare at my dues spreadsheet, occasionally doodling in the margins.  After a few trips up and down the C major scale, we spent the rest of the lesson working on next set's orchestra music: Ravel's Pavane pour une infante défunte and Offenbach's Overture to Orpheus in the Underworld.  We'll also be playing Mozart's Overture to The Magic Flute and Tchaikovsky's Third Symphony, of which I am terrified.

By the time we'd gotten through Pavane, we were already over time, but she graciously offered more of her time so we could look at Orpheus.  She's really just the sweetest.

Our first orchestra rehearsal is tomorrow and I'm excited for it.  I hope to get in some practicing before it.

I'd like to buy a hook so I can hang my cello up on my wall.  Anyone know where I could buy such a thing?

Like a Virgin: My First Cello Lesson

Eight months after buying myself a cello, I finally had my first ever legitimate cello lesson today (legitimate meaning I paid for it).  At first, we set the time of the lesson at 4pm, but as it became clear that was absolutely not going to happen, I emailed her and asked to do it later.  We agreed on 5:30, and I got in my car at 4:45.  It didn't hit me that 4:45pm is a terrible time to be on the RFK Bridge until I was already on it.  125th Street was also a miserable trek and I really thought I wasn't going to make it by 5:30 after I asked her to switch the time TO 5:30.  Miraculously, I found a parking spot right around the corner from her building at 5:29.

Ayanna is a student at Manhattan School of Music.  There are practice rooms in the same building as the residence hall, which I thought was very neat.  It was my first time in a practice room since 2002.

I neglected to do any preparation for the lesson, which meant my cello was in no condition to be played when we took it out of the case.  The bridge was in another time zone, so Ayanna spent a few minutes getting my cello into playing condition and tuning it.  Unfortunately, once she'd gotten the thing tuned, there was a buzzing sound from the G string (laugh, get it out of your system).  After loosening the pegs, moving the bridge, and retuning a few times, there was nothing we could do to get rid of the buzz, and then something started rattling.  We decided my cello was just having fun with us at this point, gave up for the time being, and I practiced on her cello for the duration of the lesson.

Ayanna was very sweet.  It was totally on me that we had to waste the first 15 minutes of the lesson fixing my cello.  She even offered to go later so I'd still get my hour of lesson time with her.  I spent a total of 90 minutes with her and she only charged me for an hour.

She watched me play a C scale and offered pointers on how to hold the bow and how to position my left hand, some of which I heard before and some of which I hadn't.  She had no comment on the position of the cello on my body, which means I retained something from last year!  After that, we opened the Suzuki book and I sightread Rigadoon, an easy piece on the top two strings.  After playing it through alone a few times and with her a few times, she on-the-spot composed a piano accompaniment and we played it together on the two instruments.  Playing it with the piano made me feel like a cellist for the first time.

My assignments for our next lesson (3/30) are Rigadoon, a Bach minuet (also in the Suzuki book), the A minor melodic scale, and something else from my book of Klengel exercises. 

Month by month

I didn't consciously make any new year's resolutions this year, but the way it's worked out is I've succeeded in changing my life for the better in a different way each month of 2010 so far.  In January, I started keeping better track of my spending, and I now have a record of every penny I've spent this year (I have yet to do something with this information, but it's there when I need it, and the mere act of recording it all has made me much more aware of the things I spend money on).  In February I continued to keep track of my expenses diligently, and I also resolved to stop dwelling on my ex.  This, I think, is the first time I'm mentioning him in a blog post, and I haven't whined about him to anyone in real life (that I remember).

So I'm thinking March may be the month of the cello.  I really don't take advantage of working from home.  I could spend my time much more wisely.  The excuses I made last year are no longer valid.  To this end, I've contacted a cello teacher recommended by a friend (the friend is not a cellist, nor a musician to my knowledge, but she's worked with the girl and heard her play).  I owe her a call back, which I hope to make tomorrow (I have no idea what her typical day is like, but she said "Give me a bell anytime.").

And then I hope to have something to write in this blog!

Maybe I should post about the cello.

The last time I picked up the cello was the night of my orchestra concert in December.  The grand master plan was to take lessons on the cello and actually play violin in the orchestra this season (I actually played the violin for ten years growing up).  I'm still slacking on finding a teacher (that charges $40 an hour or less, does such a person exist in NYC?), and though I did actually buy new strings for my violin, I have yet to sit down and actually restring my violin.  I've been going to orchestra rehearsals, but just been doing my duties as an officer and occasionally playing percussion for the few pieces that require it.

Speaking of percussion, QUO owns only a tambourine and a triangle (maybe not even the triangle), so I usually end up playing the bass, snare, and cymbal parts on the tambourine.  This week, Diego was there with his own cymbals (well, Jon's cymbals), and Jon brought his triangle, so we played Liadow's Polonaise with almost a full percussion section.  I played the snare part on the tambourine which, to be honest, was more fun and even sounded a little better, and if not better then different, but in a fun way.

The moral of this story is: please help me find a cello teacher.  I have about an hour and a half to kill, so I may try my hand at restringing that violin.

Grandpa's Piccolo

When I was in high school, my grandfather got into the habit of giving me things of his.  For as long as I could remember, there was a zither hanging on the living room wall of my grandparents' apartment.  One day, without warning, grandpa just took it off the wall and gave it to me.  One moment it was familiar  decor, the next moment it was my personal property.  The zither was severely out of tune and I've never been able to make anything more than hideous noise with it.

Around the same time, my grandfather gave me a piccolo.  Unlike the zither, I'd never seen the piccolo before.  The piccolo was exciting because I'd never played a wind instrument before (whereas I plucked on zither-like things in The Nature Company all the time).  I didn't have it for very long because as soon as my little sister learned of it, she swiped it.  As the only woodwind player in the family (Lauren played clarinet for two years in middle school), she felt entitled to any other wind instruments that should enter our house.  I picked my battles with Lauren and this was one of those that I let go.

My grandfather passed away last month and I got to thinking about that piccolo.  At the funeral, I asked Lauren about it and she actually still had it.  A decade removed from her foray into woodwinds, she was now willing to part with it.  My parents gave it to me this past Sunday and I attempted to play it.  I have just as much experience with wind instruments today as I did twelve years ago, so the result was something that sounded a lot like wind and not so much like instrument.

The next day I went out with some gay musicians and brought along the piccolo for an appraisal.  Oboist Matthew and tubist Jack sat enthralled in my back seat for a while examining the instrument.  Matthew remarked that he'd never seen anything like it, and he kept calling it a "conservatory model," noting that it was very difficult to play.  Both of them blew into it and neither was able to eke out a sound much better than what I'd done.  Matthew had a lot to say about the piccolo's composition, but ultimately he suggested I have a professional flautist take a look.

Tonight I brought the piccolo to orchestra rehearsal and showed it to flautists Scott and Craig.  They both had similar reactions to Matthew's.  Scott questioned whether it was a piccolo or a fife.  Craig noted that the fact that it was in three pieces was unusual.  He also said that the fingering was obsolete and they don't make piccolos like that anymore.  This piccolo was made before piccolo manufacturing conventions changed in the early twentieth century.  The instrument might be in D-flat, which also indicates that it's a very old model.  Craig was the only one who tried playing the piccolo who was actually able to get notes out of it.

Nobody thinks that it's worth a lot of money, and in fact, it would probably require a lot of money in repairs if it were ever to be played again, and that might be a waste of money considering this type of piccolo is no longer used.  I think I might just keep it around for kicks.  Break it out at parties and watch the flautists ooh and aah.

More interesting than the piccolo itself for me is why my grandfather owned it.  To my knowledge, grandpa never played a musical instrument, and all the feedback I've gotten on the piccolo brings me to the conclusion that it's a pretty difficult instrument to play, and it's not something an amateur would pick up.  My mom says he probably got it in Germany when he was there during the War.

My next idea is to show it to my cousin Allison who is a flautist.  It might be meaning for her since she actually knew Grandpa Joe.

A little bit a day

Mathew had me over for a very productive joint practice session today, more so for me, as usual. I missed last Wednesday's rehearsal because of a conflict with the band, and in my absence, the subject of me came up! Our section leader asked Mathew to go over proper position with me, so he had me over for tea and cello playing.

Some things I learned:

• I hold the cello too high up on my body.  The cello should be at a 45 degree angle with the grooves just above my knees and the right-facing pegs at my neck.  I should sit at the very edge of the seat with my back straight.
• I hold the bow like a violinist, go figure.  I should hold the bow like I'm making the number four with my hand; my pinky (or ring finger) on the dot in the frog; my thumb bent into the space between the hair, stick, and frog; and my pointer finger somewhat curled around the wood.  My pointer finger and thumb should bear the tension.  Having gotten home and attempted this, I have no idea how I managed to do this at Mathew's house.
• The arm holding the bow should be relaxed, but not too relaxed (great!).  My entire arm should move when bowing a long note.
  
• I also press the strings like a violinist.  This, I think is the hardest to correct.  My elbow should be out and my wrist rotated to the front.  My fingers should be curved and the tips of my fingers should press the strings (some of this is actually the same for the violin.  When fingering the second or third note on a string, all subsequent fingers should also be down (all four fingers should be down when fingering a fourth-finger note on a string).  I should practice with the thumb not touching the neck.
• When plucking, I should pluck out, not to the side, and not rest my thumb on the side of the fingerboard.

Mathew gave me an exercise to work on, and he said I should pick an easy movement of a Bach Cello Suite and work on the first four measures or so, just to give myself something enjoyable to play (while I muddle through the mundane exercises and scales, and the difficult orchestra music).  Learning good position is better for me at this point than working on the orchestra music, as everything will be easier once I get the basics down.

When I got home, I did the exercise he taught me on three of the four strings, and then worked on the Menuet from Bach's Cello Suite no. 1.  I didn't practice for very long, because I'd spent the whole day playing the cello, and my roommate's family was in the living room laughing up a storm.  But the whole point is to practice at least a little bit a day.  I should be able to squeeze some practicing in tomorrow night and possibly Tuesday (I have a house guest which complicates things) and then rehearsal is Wednesday.  I leave for San Francisco on Thursday, but I'm taking a half day so if I get my packing done, there may be time to practice.

So, the goal is a little bit a day.

Enjoying being bad and dressing for the camera (Rehearsal #3)

I was chatting with a coworker today about the cello (it's quite a conversation piece) and he something to the effect of "Once you're good, you're good for the rest of your life, so enjoy being bad now while you still can."

I was with him on the first part, but he lost me on enjoying being bad.  I'm bad at plenty of things, but I wouldn't say I enjoy any of them.  I try to stick to things I'm good at.  That helps me avoid tantrums.

Here's a picture of me from rehearsal tonight:



That's my cello buddy Mathew on the right. I've gotten in the habit of dressing nicely on Wednesdays because I know I'll get my picture taken. :)