Icing on the Cake

I grew up at the end of the variety show era and as a kid, I dreamed of having my own. I imagined playing my cello in a long flowing skirt at the edge of a shimmering sheet of ice. I would play some beautiful movement of something beautiful and come to a cadence...handing my cello to a careful stage hand, whip off my long skirt to reveal a somewhat shorter skating skirt and perfectly polished figure skates and skate as no Olympian ever had~ Ha, ha, ha...okay, I was 12 at the time and I had long since forgotten this dream scene..

Until yesterday. My daughters' skating coaches thought it would be nice to have live music at the Christmas ice show and asked me what I thought. I jumped on the opportunity until I realized that my cello requires a lot more than just grabing my axe from the case and tooting away~ I fought the idea on several occassions, protesting to myself and the coaches...but then...

Yesterday, I was given "5 for fighting" and ended up in the penalty box playing my cello. This was to determine if my cello could actually be heard around the arena without amplification. Darn, my dippy cello "for advancing students" has a pretty big sound after all. (No electric cello for this birthday...) Everyone in attendance at the practice thought it sounded really good. I was pretty surprised myself and am still thinking this is all a bit hokey.

Of course, "Coach Jackie" figured (no pun intended) that if it sounds good in the penalty box, why not put me out on the ice...so I precariously scooted out onto the ice to a rubber mat and chair waiting just right of the blue line. Oh, yes it was sooo much better (and hokier by far) on the ice. And while we're at it, why don't I skate out to my spot and pretend I'm a street musician while my oldest skates her rendition to my rendition of "Silver Bells"..."City sidewalks (complete with street musician freezing in the icey old air!) Stay tuned...

Lessons and Practice and Money

I was practicing my cello the other day and I thought I was really coming along, even in thumb postions. Then, the next day at my kid's summer string program, I heard a cello quartet comprised of some really great players. Drat! I still stink. I need a teacher. Teachers cost money. I probably should find someone more advanced than myself...

This is not looking pretty. I checked the tuiton at the closest music school and it costs about $40 an hour which seems about right to me. And too expensive. Expensive as in my kids won't be able to eat, let alone have their own music lessons.

I guess I blew it. I had all the opportunities in the world to learn and practice, etc. when I was younger and for a host of reasons, my playing still needs work. It is so frustrating because I close to being a pretty good cellist, really...maybe...with a lot of work...and a little guidance...

I don't even know where to start when I practice. I need an Rx for a better tone and speed and a reason to practice like a recital or something. I've got a quartet "gig" coming up in the fall, but I want to be more than that. I want to play like a collegiate level cellist for real. I mean, technically I was a collegiate level cellist...I even had a juries and a recital...

I don't need to get paid to play, but I wish I could have money so I could get a teacher/coach so I could play like I get paid to play...does that make sense???

And, a little money so my kids can have the same musical opportunities I've had...if they wish.

Cello Bio II

During the summer of 4th grade, I went to an instrumental day camp through the public school system. I don't remember a whole lot of it, but it was at an elementary school across town. It was set up like a beginning orchestra and we probably played simple band arrangments. I remember playing mostly (bass clef) baritone parts for much of my time in the elementary and junior high school orchestras. I think I sat first chair, but then maybe I was the only cello.

These pictures were taken that summer of 1974. We had an enclosed porch on the back of our house. I liked to practice out there during the summer. You can tell it is the 70s just by the color of the throw rug!

Violoncello Bio

Today I will commence my biographical sketch of my life with the Violoncello. I've always liked that word, violoncello. The first time I took my dear husband to hear a cellist, I had him so miffed..."what the heck is a violoncello? I thought this guy played the cello like you??" Poor guy, I was giggling for quite a while. A long while actually, since the soloist was late for his own performance! My husband didn't learn the truth until the soloist walked out with his violoncello!

I recently read that it is now acceptable to write the word cello without the ' before the word, as in 'cello. How sad.

And now for my story.

In second grade, I began piano lessons with the organist at our church. He was nice and had a broken arm when I first began. When he would talk to me about practicing, he would ask me if my mom practiced her violin. My mom had put her violin away for a short while when we were little. Soon after I told her about this conversation, she started playing, teaching, and practicing again and still does to this day. When she started to teach my friend, I got very jealous. I wanted to play the violin too. Mom, in her wisdom said that I had to practice the piano everyday before I could learn the violin. I went from practicing for Donny Osmond albums (bribes) to earning a violin and lessons. I ended up with more albums and didn't have violin lessons until college. Why, you ask? Because I wanted now to play the flute!

In the spring of 3rd grade I was in a split classroom with 4th graders. Two of my older friends, Elaine E. and Cathy C., both started playing the flute. Elaine was my best friend's sister and she had her own Armstrong flute. Oh, I wanted to be like them and play the flute too. I begged and begged to no avail. By this time I think my string playing mom was waiting until 4th grade and instrumental music at school kicked in rather than finding a teaching independently. (She was hoping for a change of heart too, I'm sure.)

When recorder class started in the fall of 4th grade, I'm not sure what I wanted to play. However, I distinctly remember when it came time to choose an instrument I had good reasons for my choice. I did not want to hold up a violin under my chin...maybe I was lazy or something, but it just didn't seem to be all that much fun. After all, my mom had a permanent mark on her neck and that looked painful too. I also wanted something that no one else was playing. One kid in the year ahead of me played the string bass, but no cellos.

I remember the day we met to select our instruments. One of my classmates wanted to play the string bass. Oh, no. She was tall, but the teacher said she had to play the cello instead. AND because she was tall so she got to play the school's really nice 3/4 size and I got stuck with the not so nice 1/2 size. Because her dad was on the school board, she got to sit first chair thoughout elementary school.

I remember the night before we were going to get our instruments, I pretended to play my guitar like a cello. I was really excited. I think my mom was too. She told me how much she enjoyed learning the cello as a music education major in college and has encouraged me ever since. She's my biggest fan!

The first thing I did when I brought my cello home was play open strings in our basement recreation room and make up a song about clarinets sounding like fog horns. (Remember, I was in the 4th grade and these were beginning clarinets...)

My first lessons on the cello were with Mrs. Stone and the elementary school orchestra. My first pieces were from String Builder Book I (the green one).

The picture was taken the night of my first concert in the Spring of 1974. I was 9 and my mom made my dress. I loved that dress. Purple for Donny Osmond.

Mothers Day

In the midst of projects and living, I forgot about Mothers Day. My mom knows that I'll do something for her like make some earrings or whatever, so I called mom on Saturday to let her know that I was behind on such things. She'd rather I take care of my kids, practice, save my money anyway, so she understood...

Sometimes things just work together. and I solved the problem in a creative and hopefully satisfactory manner. My church records our Sunday services and posts the sermons on their website. In addition, they make a few cd's available of the entire service, including the music.
On Mothers Day, I was pleasantly surprised that along with the sermon, I had in my hot little hands, a rather nice recording of me playing the Arioso that Sunday. I knew I played okay...a few questionable notes...not the tone I've always dreamed of...adequate for a country church...However, the recording sounded a lot better than I thought. I'm pretty sure they don't "tweak" the performances when they burn the cd's, so I'm kinda pleased it. I dont' have the best instrument, but I made some pretty nice sounds, dynamics, good vibrato...wow...In the middle of working, mothering, wife-ing, finishing a quilt, cleaning, (not) cooking...I managed (with the help of God), pull off a nice little rendition that day. And, I got it all on CD.

Sunday afternoon, I was inspired to give my mom something that might just mean a lot more than card or flowers. I emailed her a copy of my performance. I know it sounds kind of silly, but my mom has nurtured, encouraged, supported, inspired, financed, etc. my cello playing for nearly 35 years! I can't give her a professional recording of me playing at Carnegie Hall, but this is something that means a whole lot to both of us...a symbol something we have always shared. In spite of the world and all hits blessings and curses, I'm still playing...enjoying the gift my mom gave me. My mom is 70 years old and still teaches and plays her violin and she gave me a great legacy to share.

Growing Into My Training

I currently play in a lovely amateur community orchestra. Many of the people I play with played their instruments in school and never had a private lesson. After high school, they moved onto college, career, and family, leaving the instruments behind. Our orchestra gives them the perfect opportunity to dust off the ole fiddle, rosin up the bow and play once again. While some have taken a few lessons as adults, the music is still challenging, especially for who don’t have a lot of time for practice or have not had lot of technical guidance. All in all, I think playing with this group is a positive experience for musicians of all abilities. I believe the community appreciates us as well.

At times I wish we would play more than arrangements of great works I’ve played and not so many of the pieces I played in junior high. And then, sometimes I play just like those who haven’t played in 20-30 years. It is at those times I hesitate to share my musical resume’.
I started playing the cello in 1974 at the age of nine. Once, when I was in the 8th grade, I officially “quit”. That lasted about three months. For the first 15 years I played the cello, I had private lessons for the majority of the time, including the summers. I played in a variety of orchestras and ensembles and attended music camps. I’ve even logged a few hours of practice over the years. While there have been periods of time when I didn’t play for several months in a row, those times never seemed to last long enough to declare, “I’ve put my cello away; I just don’t have the time right now.”

Unfortunately, due in part to my learning disadvantage, (Click on Growing into My Training post title for more.)I’m not the player I desired to be. If I would have been able to pay attention to the right details as I played scales and etudes over and over, things may have been different.

No time for regret. Something is changing and as the many, many adult beginners are reminded, it is never too late. In spite of having less time to practice and no money for lessons, I am probably playing better than I ever have. While I do take medication that helps with my focus and concentration, I would not be able to progress as I have recently without those years of training and experience behind me. With a little focused effort, I’m now able to literally and figuratively get up to speed in ways I never dreamed.
However, because I was never quite the cellist I shoulda/coulda/woulda been, I don’t trust myself to be right, especially with rhythm. I spent many years playing with and relying on professionals. Now I find myself leading a section and sometimes, I am the section. Leading a section is a scary thing. In addition to learning the notes and rhythms, I need to learn to trust my ability and my musicianship.

This all came to a head several weeks ago. Our spring concert included an arrangement for 2 trumpets and strings of “My Spirit Be Joyful” from Bach’s Easter Cantata #146. Our conductor, a trumpet player would join our guest artist, Allen Miller of the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra for the piece. I was looking forward to not only performing it, but for my daughter, a beginning trumpeter, to hear it. I worked very hard on the music, including using a metronome extensively. I knew it in my fingers, bow, and heart.

The night of the performance, we had a rehearsal. It went terrible. Even though, I knew I was right, I’d hear something off and get sidetracked and lost. I must get over this problem. Just because someone might have a better and stronger sounding instrument and plays more confidently does not mean they are always correct. I was not in any way faulting others: I’m supposed to be the leader and play correctly! This was my problem. By the end of the rehearsal, I was almost in tears because it is very exposed and I could not seem to pull it together and play what I knew.

During the break, I mentioned my frustration, or rather distress to our concert master. She knows a little more about my background and has asked me to play some jobs with her. I felt I could share this in confidence. She first thought that I didn’t understand the rhythm and I assured her that I worked very hard on the piece and did indeed understand it. She then said, “Then you know it…just play what you know.” I told her I know I just have to block everything out except the conductor and the music I’m playing. She smiled, put her arm around my shoulder and said, “this is character building”. Then she asked if I wanted to go over it during the break. The strings played it again with the conductor and I was still struggling. My stand partner tried to tell me how he gets mixed up like I do and pointed out how this one rhythmic figure was not the same as the rest. I tried not to show my displeasure, but I made it very clear (tactfully, I hope) that I was very aware of that particular rhythm. I don’t usually get so defensive, but darn it, “I know what I’m doing!” (Sorry, it was very frustrating!) We played it again and it went better, but still not the way I knew I could play it.
And so, I did the only thing I knew to do. I prayed to God…

…And God answered. Our performance was not exactly in the style of Bach, but it was correct in terms of rhythm and notes. When we had intermission, all of the string players were so relieved with how it went. I said, “Yes, and the next time, I will play it as Bach would have it played!”
My cohort, the concert master said we should be happy with the way it all came together. I replied, “my spirit is joyful” And then I declared to her and myself, I’m finally growing into my training!

Arioso

Sunday, I played the Arioso in church. I am fairly happy with how it went. Of course, it didn't take much to improve upon my previous performance of that work. The last time I played it in another church, my then 3 year old ran away from my husband and grabbed bow arm and tried crawling up on my chair as I played. Ironically, the sermon theme was "Taming the Family Circus". This time, my daughter stayed in the pew, colored, and got very upset when she realized she missed watching me play!

I also spent a lot of time working on some shifts and intervals which paid off in my comfort level as well as the end result. The best compliment I recieved was from a man who had played cello in junior high and thought I was amazing. (It meant more because he actually kinda knew what playing the cello is like!)

I had no intention of playing in church anytime soon. We are new to this church and it is loaded with top-notch musicians. Because this is not a Lutheran church which I'm used to, I asked the music minister IF I wanted to play could I play something classical or did it need to be a hymn? Most of the instrumental performances I've heard to this point were either arrangements of hymns or Christmas carols. He kindly told me they'd love to have me play and I could play anything I want. (I assume that did not include a cello arrangement of The Devil Went Down to Georgia.)

A week or so later, the music minister called and left a message asking if I could play on May 3. I assumed he meant, could I play with a group or something. I jumped at the opportunity and said yes. And then it dawned on me...and it was confirmed. He assumed I was asking about playing because I was ready to play and he found a date for me. So, I pulled out my old stand by and got to work.

I first studied the Arioso from No. 156 Cantata by J. S. Bach with Louis Potter Jr. in 1986. (He wrote The Art of Cello Playing but more on that later.) The version I learned was transcribed by Sam Franko. It was written as an Adagio and played in 8/8 time. I don't have a piano part for that version, so I've been using a Merle Isaac transcription more recently. It is essentially the same, but it seems easier since it is written in 4/4. I dug out my older version and must admit there is something about it that makes it special to me. It doesn't seem as simplistic even thought the notes are much the same, excluding the final first and second endings. I wonder what the accompaniment was like.

I "Googled" Arioso and the first link was Julian LLoyd Weber performing it on You Tube. A cellist playing Arioso. I have to laugh. My mom's quartet recently played a version which featured most of the melody played by the cello. A friend asked her why it was such a low arrangement. My mom said she thought it was nice in that register and the transciber wanted to highlight the cello. The friend, a flutist replied, "Oh, I think it is much better played higher." Figures!

One of the comments I read a comment on the JLW You Tube performance that said "I'm playing that for an Alto Sax contest"(paraphrased). I'm thinking, "oh, like that is going to be a challenge...no scary shifts from low "do" to a high "may" for you!"

And, once again, I digress. Back to my story. The music minister's wife is the organist/pianist at the church. I had not met her before but she was so nice and easy to work with. I'm so glad I got to meet her in this way. It made me feel more at home in the church and at ease when I played.
I'm hoping to do some ensemble stuff soon. Two of her daughters play violin and the second violin in my current quartet is a member of this church too. It is nice to be needed and wanted. Ah, the cello.

I mentioned fine musicians in this church. Well, ironically, several of them were sitting directly in front of me. At least not the string players. Unlike many congregations for whom I've played, this group of young musicians watched me intently. Yyykes. ! Next time, I play up higher instead of trying to hide down on the floor with the piano!

I guess I better get practicing the Buxtehude duet my mom wants to play at her church. That and my quartet music...and (Confidentially, I'm just hoping to play a few scales over the next few days...)

The Case of the Cello Case

When my parents bought my first cello, they also bought a nice padded case. I still have the reciept. It cost $150 in 1980!, which sure sounds pricey. I still have it somewhere and I used it again once when I was very pregnant with my first baby 12 years ago. I think it still has the "Get Off My Bach" sticker on it.

In the fall of 1982, I was a freshman at Michigan State majoring in music. I convinced my mom that I could not be a real cellist if I didn't have a hard-shell case. Driving back to Michigan State following a weekend at home, mom and I stopped off at Shar in Ann Arbor to buy my early birthday present.

Back in those days, most hard cello cases were made of wood, covered in black pebble-grained vinyl, and lined with velvet. Interior colors were pretty much limited to burgundy or blue. For me, the choice of burgundy was easy because I liked it with the black and I didn't want blue because I was I was a true green and white Spartan and didn't want any hint of UofM's Maize and Blue. The case was made by the American Case Company and mom decided it was best not to pay extra for the "plush velvet" interior. Regardless, I was thrilled with this new purchase.

It served me very well for many years. I decorated it in many ways, but this is what it looked like when I recently retired it this past week:

Inside is a little commemorative sticker from a community orchestra in which I played for several seasons before I became a mom.

I've had the little "Spartan S" and rose on the case since MSU beat USC (sorry Emily!) in the 1988 Rose Bowl.

The Ichthys (fish) is on there because as a Christian, I like the symbol and when they first came out as car, etc. accessories, I thought they were soooo cooool.

Last winter, I started playing more and asked my husband if he could fix this latch. This latch had been broken forever and he quickly fashioned this lovely copper accent which worked quite nicely...and with the price of copper, I'm sure it added value to the case!

Alas, I just don't think I have the patience to wait for him to rebuild the entire bottom and to re-upholstery the interior myself.

I had been shopping around online for the perfect case for about a year, knowing I couldn't afford or justify such a purchase. I wanted the new Bam case with the green leaves on it but would settle for something else, perhaps something in forest green and silver or the purple with silver lining by Bobelock. One can dream right?

A week or so ago, I was flipping through an old Shar catalog and found it: the case I might have a chance at owning. I read somewhere that a light colored exterior protects better from the heat and I love gray...well really I love silver, but hey can't be too picky. The stone blue interior...not too bad...kind of cool and icy...after all, my new "image" includes growing out my true platinum-colored hair...this would go along just fine with that. Of course, it had been on sale and I'd missed it. Ah...I didn't stand a chance a buying it anyway.

Then, on April 21, the email arrived. My case was on sale again, for much less than the catalog sale. And free shipping. And our tax refund just came. And I just got a paying cello job. And, somehow I had the guts to call my husband and argue my case for a new case and won!

I ordered it the next day and hoped I could wait the 2-weeks it would probably take to have it shipped for free.

Surprise! I was going out the next day to check the mail and there it was! I was so excited. I brought it in and carefully unpacked it...oooh, the "grey" color sparkles...it is really silver! How nice...different, but nice. I looked it over and decided to try it out. Of course, I needed to make sure it would fit into my car, so I carefully carried it out to the car so as not to scuff the case or wheels and tried to get it into my small car. After a few trials, I found away to make it fit. [This is just the way it is for someone who insists on continuing to drive a Mustang even when one has long outgrown it. ]

I carefully took it out and proceded to carry it into the house. Then I saw it: oh, my goodness, I've ruined it, I thought. There right underneath, near the wheels was a place where the fiberglass coating had cracked right off.

It took my husband twenty minutes, including a fiberglass making demonstration to convince me that I did not damage the case. Of course, I finally believed him when he found the cracked off pieces in the box. Don't ask me why I didn't check the case first, but...all is well that ends well.

I called Shar and confirmed that I could return it for a replacement. Of course, I have no patience, so I opted to drive down to Ann Arbor which is about an hour or so away.

I packed the damaged case up in the box and soon discovered that I could not get it into my little car. I would have to use my husband's vehicle to get it returned. However, while this was an urgent matter, it was not an emergency. Therefore, since since I can only drive a stick in an emergency, I knew I couldn't make the trip in his vehicle myself..ha, ha. But, bless his heart, my dear husband offered to make the drive to Ann Arbor with me the following morning.

It was a lovely day and the drive was nice. My husband took the new case out to the car for me where he stealthfully checked out the fiberglass and deemed it flaw-free. (It pays to have a man who knows fiberglass...bathtubs, hot tubs...he sold plumbing supplies for years.)

I debuted my new case Saturday night at our community's orchestra concert. Of course, after I decorated it a bit:

Now, I gotta go practice: I'm taking my new case to church on Sunday...I mean I'm playing Bach at church on Sunday....