Skokie, Illinois is a punchline to most people who have watched the Blues Brothers, but it has a magical quality for me.
It's where I discovered a small charter Waldorf school for my daughter's early childhood education that shaped me as a parent as much as it shaped her as child. It's where I took cello lessons from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra's first female first cellist Alice Lawrence Baker in the 1980s. And it's where I've stumbled on a tiny treasure trove of sheet music called Music Unlimited.
From the street, this store is invisible. Sandwiched between a Martial Arts storefront and a dry cleaner business, Music Unlimited doesn't have a well-lit sign above the shop indicating it's there. However, it's name is discreetly displayed on its window, and if you walk up to the window and look in, you'll see a modest, dated room jam-packed with sheet music.
The walls are lined with bookcases carrying sheet music for piano and an entire section is devoted to musicals. In the center of the room are those old-fashioned trays one used to see holding LPs in record stores. At Music Unlimited, however, the trays hold sheet music for popular music one might hear on the radio.
"A music store organized by musicians for musicians," a sign on the window reads.
In addition to piano and voice, the store claims to carry sheet music for woodwinds, brass, and, of most interest to me, string instruments.
Squeezed up against the window is a metal green filing cabinet with a type-written label for the top drawer that reads: "Cello." Next to the filing cabinet is another, taller filing cabinet with a similar label that reads: "String Quartets."
I am dying to get inside this store and browse through those drawers. The store was closed for New Year's when I drove over yesterday, and I could only stand at that plain, unadorned window
and look in. It was like standing at the front of Lewis's magical wardrobe and knowing a wonderland lay beyond.
I haven't even gone in and I am enchanted already.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Quick quote
"At the end of the day, the cello is simply a sound resonator. The quality of the strings on your cello will definitely make a difference."
--Tim Mally, Suzuki drop-out, on steel versus sterling strings.
--Tim Mally, Suzuki drop-out, on steel versus sterling strings.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Bridge Work
For the past two days, I have been trying to tune my cello after the bridge collapsed. I probably could have avoided the headache of it all if I had just found Robert Cauer's web site right away, but I didn't.
The bridge didn't snap, fortunately, but it did completely go out from under the strings, leaving the strings flapping against the fingerboard and the saddle turned askew. When I went to place it back in position, I realized I had no idea where it went or even which direction it faced.
There are scuff marks on the body of the cello indicating where a bridge once rested but it spans a one-inch range. And there are notches on the bridge where each string has always pressed, but the bridge has no maker writing or other signs of directionality.
Sitting there, holding the asymmetrical and fancifully scrolled piece of wood in my hand, I had a ridiculous smile on my face. This would be another great Suzuki re-discovery moment.
"I don't know how to do this," I thought. "But I can learn!"
Looking back, I could strangle myself.
The first time, I positioned the bridge I just kind of threw it on there roughly where the scuff marks were. The result was OK, but I just couldn't seem to get the G-string sounding right. It rattled, among other things.
I removed the bridge and tried again, this time trying to line up the bridge more precisely with the notches on the f-notes on the body of the cello. This time the notes seemed right, but the strings emitted a sound like they were choking. Very dull, with little resonance.
(I later realized I had tuned the strings an octave too high; I'm lucky I didn't snap the bridge.)
I began to wonder if it was possible I had the bridge on backwards. So, I loosened the strings, removed the bridge again and flipped it around. This time, the cello tuned up nicely. The A practically jumped off the fingerboard and shook my hand. But I knew the bridge couldn't be right. For starters, I couldn't play my G without bumping the C or the D , and the A was way too high off the fingerboard.
I knew I had to loosen the strings and remove the bridge again. I am sure a violin- or cello-maker would have cringed at the constant moving of this bridge. And, as he or she would warn, I was starting to notice the resulting wear and tear on my strings.
That little rasp on the G-string? Getting louder. My more fragile A and D strings appear to have tiny cracks in the steel near the points where they (historically) rest on the bridge.
I am confident I finally have the bridge in the right (or good enough) spot now. After another hour or so of tuning, I think I might just get it back in tune. Now, if the strings don't unravel, it should all turn out fine.
The bridge didn't snap, fortunately, but it did completely go out from under the strings, leaving the strings flapping against the fingerboard and the saddle turned askew. When I went to place it back in position, I realized I had no idea where it went or even which direction it faced.
There are scuff marks on the body of the cello indicating where a bridge once rested but it spans a one-inch range. And there are notches on the bridge where each string has always pressed, but the bridge has no maker writing or other signs of directionality.
Sitting there, holding the asymmetrical and fancifully scrolled piece of wood in my hand, I had a ridiculous smile on my face. This would be another great Suzuki re-discovery moment.
"I don't know how to do this," I thought. "But I can learn!"
Looking back, I could strangle myself.
The first time, I positioned the bridge I just kind of threw it on there roughly where the scuff marks were. The result was OK, but I just couldn't seem to get the G-string sounding right. It rattled, among other things.
I removed the bridge and tried again, this time trying to line up the bridge more precisely with the notches on the f-notes on the body of the cello. This time the notes seemed right, but the strings emitted a sound like they were choking. Very dull, with little resonance.
(I later realized I had tuned the strings an octave too high; I'm lucky I didn't snap the bridge.)
I began to wonder if it was possible I had the bridge on backwards. So, I loosened the strings, removed the bridge again and flipped it around. This time, the cello tuned up nicely. The A practically jumped off the fingerboard and shook my hand. But I knew the bridge couldn't be right. For starters, I couldn't play my G without bumping the C or the D , and the A was way too high off the fingerboard.
I knew I had to loosen the strings and remove the bridge again. I am sure a violin- or cello-maker would have cringed at the constant moving of this bridge. And, as he or she would warn, I was starting to notice the resulting wear and tear on my strings.
That little rasp on the G-string? Getting louder. My more fragile A and D strings appear to have tiny cracks in the steel near the points where they (historically) rest on the bridge.
I am confident I finally have the bridge in the right (or good enough) spot now. After another hour or so of tuning, I think I might just get it back in tune. Now, if the strings don't unravel, it should all turn out fine.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Chromatic Tuner
Carol brought along with her a device that still has me amazed. It's a digital tuning tool that replaces the old-fashioned tuning pipes I remember from when I was a kid.
Here's how it works: Play a note such as a G# and the tool will display either a green light indicating you are in tune, a red light to the left of the green light indicating your note is too low (flat), or a red light to the right of the green light indicating your note is too sharp.
It was fascinating. I could have sat and tested my notes all night on that pocket-sized thing. Trouble finding that exact finger position? Play the note, read the light, adjust the finger as necessary. Maybe I'm a luddite and this kind of technology has been around for years, but I'm in love with this thing. Marvelous!
Sheet!
My years playing cello spanned my elementary school years. I was four when I began and 11 when I quit in an ill-advised and short-lived move to the trombone. I learned using the Suzuki method, which focuses heavily on students learning by ear.
"I play, then you play," my teacher would say.
Note-reading of sheet music came at a later stage.
The problem for me now, given the age at which I quit, is that my time reading sheet music was pretty limited. I played in concerts with a full youth orchestra but, hidden in a pack of cellists, I could disguise my weakness sight-reading because I could listen to the cellists around me and then mimic. It's a little like speaking a foreign language phonetically. You might sound fine, but you have little idea what you're actually saying.
I am not completely illiterate in sheet music reading, and I was able to read and play the harmony of Mozart's Duet #1 well enough once Carol, my violinist, pointed out the sharps in my part of the duet. It was frustrating to hear the wrong notes, and to know I was playing them because I am mildly illiterate.
On the bright side, my Suzuki training served me well as far as playing in unison goes. My sense of rhythm was not entirely out of whack, and I felt I had a strong ear for harmonizing with the violin.
Carol and I decided we'll practice an hour to an hour and half each week on Wednesdays. In between sessions, we'll practice, practice, practice.
"I play, then you play," my teacher would say.
Note-reading of sheet music came at a later stage.
The problem for me now, given the age at which I quit, is that my time reading sheet music was pretty limited. I played in concerts with a full youth orchestra but, hidden in a pack of cellists, I could disguise my weakness sight-reading because I could listen to the cellists around me and then mimic. It's a little like speaking a foreign language phonetically. You might sound fine, but you have little idea what you're actually saying.
I am not completely illiterate in sheet music reading, and I was able to read and play the harmony of Mozart's Duet #1 well enough once Carol, my violinist, pointed out the sharps in my part of the duet. It was frustrating to hear the wrong notes, and to know I was playing them because I am mildly illiterate.
On the bright side, my Suzuki training served me well as far as playing in unison goes. My sense of rhythm was not entirely out of whack, and I felt I had a strong ear for harmonizing with the violin.
Carol and I decided we'll practice an hour to an hour and half each week on Wednesdays. In between sessions, we'll practice, practice, practice.
Just Duet!
Tonight is my first practice session with Carol, a Suzuki drop-out violinist. We're gong to attempt a short duet for cello and violin by W.A. Mozart. I'm so nervous and excited that I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to practice.
Carol played until she was about 13 and, like me, she only picked up her instrument again when she enrolled her children in music lessons. I think she went as far as to hire a teacher for herself so I suspect I'll be playing catch-up with her tonight.
Thank goodness she'll be carrying the melody! It used to bum me out that cellists always get the harmony; now, I'm tremendously relieved.
Playing my instrument again after a 25-year hiatus, I've been sawing away at the same old Suzuki Book 1 and Book 2 favorites that I played in Illinois Music Association competitions of yore. ("Long, Long Ago," "Hunter's Chorus," "Gavotte".....) I was beginning to think I was sounding pretty good. But my 4:30 a.m. practice session of an entirely new piece reminds me that I am very much out of practice. Where is 2nd position?!? Did I ever even learn 3rd position? Don't I have a boring old book of scales around here somewhere?
I hope Carol has a forgiving ear!
Carol played until she was about 13 and, like me, she only picked up her instrument again when she enrolled her children in music lessons. I think she went as far as to hire a teacher for herself so I suspect I'll be playing catch-up with her tonight.
Thank goodness she'll be carrying the melody! It used to bum me out that cellists always get the harmony; now, I'm tremendously relieved.
Playing my instrument again after a 25-year hiatus, I've been sawing away at the same old Suzuki Book 1 and Book 2 favorites that I played in Illinois Music Association competitions of yore. ("Long, Long Ago," "Hunter's Chorus," "Gavotte".....) I was beginning to think I was sounding pretty good. But my 4:30 a.m. practice session of an entirely new piece reminds me that I am very much out of practice. Where is 2nd position?!? Did I ever even learn 3rd position? Don't I have a boring old book of scales around here somewhere?
I hope Carol has a forgiving ear!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)