"practice, young man, practice."
Sep. 13th, 2014 09:21 amWhen I was a kid I took cello lessons for eight-plus years. (I'd wanted to learn string bass, but they told me I was too small. I suspect that Katie who was a head taller than me had asked first, and they didn't see any use for two bass players in the elementary school orchestra.) I guess I got decent at it. I placed into various regional orchestras, played in a couple of quartets.
Thing is, my technique was good, but I had no emotional involvement with the music at all. "Louder", "softer and a little slower," "more vibrato," and I followed my teacher's instructions to the letter and never developed any musicianship of my own.
I don't know. It was just something I did, something I'd always done and had gotten good at through sheer repetition. Plus I'd made a decent number of friends through quartets and string camps and such, which for me in junior high wasn't anything to sneeze at. Still, by the start of junior year of high school I was ridiculously overcommitted with things I either actually enjoyed, like Shakespeare troupe, or felt more pressure to stick with, like Boy Scouts. It was a relief to say "I have to cut something, and it's cello."
So I put my cello aside for two decades. I mean, I hauled it around Blacksburg with me, and at one point I must have bought a music stand and a tuning fork, but there have been far more years where I didn't take it out of its case than otherwise.
The last time was right before I moved to McLean, eight-plus years ago. I was maybe on to something then: something had clicked, or changed. I had the beginnings of a sense of the music. I also had several massive life upheavals and crises, from which the dust never fully settled, so I never took the time to go anywhere with it.
And now I seem to have some time on my hands, and I may as well see if I want to keep hauling this thing around with me. So I've been trying to get in half an hour of practice a day.
Verdict: I am terrible. No great shock; after twenty years anyone's skills would atrophy. Two weeks in and I'm at about a second-year level. I can play the pieces in Suzuki book 1 without sounding too terrible, and can fumble my way through most of book 2.
The real problem is that I realised last week that my posture is also terrible. For at least the last few years I played, I was sitting wrong. Holding the cello in the wrong place, too far down and at a weird angle. No wonder I slouch so much; no wonder I always hated playing higher than fourth position. It's a miracle I could bend my arm to find the notes at all.
Correcting my hold means that eventually I'll have an easier time playing harder pieces... but in the meantime all my instincts, for where to put my left hand and where to draw the bow, are wrong. Result: notes are flat and screechy and wobbly and generally unmusical.
Learning those things correctly is going to be awful, weeks and months of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Lightly Row and Go Tell Aunt Rhody. Stuff I thought I'd already paid my dues for years ago.
Oh well. Either it will be worth it, or I'll get a few bucks for an old cheap cello in poor condition.
I *would* like to be able to play the Bach cello suites someday, though.
Thing is, my technique was good, but I had no emotional involvement with the music at all. "Louder", "softer and a little slower," "more vibrato," and I followed my teacher's instructions to the letter and never developed any musicianship of my own.
I don't know. It was just something I did, something I'd always done and had gotten good at through sheer repetition. Plus I'd made a decent number of friends through quartets and string camps and such, which for me in junior high wasn't anything to sneeze at. Still, by the start of junior year of high school I was ridiculously overcommitted with things I either actually enjoyed, like Shakespeare troupe, or felt more pressure to stick with, like Boy Scouts. It was a relief to say "I have to cut something, and it's cello."
So I put my cello aside for two decades. I mean, I hauled it around Blacksburg with me, and at one point I must have bought a music stand and a tuning fork, but there have been far more years where I didn't take it out of its case than otherwise.
The last time was right before I moved to McLean, eight-plus years ago. I was maybe on to something then: something had clicked, or changed. I had the beginnings of a sense of the music. I also had several massive life upheavals and crises, from which the dust never fully settled, so I never took the time to go anywhere with it.
And now I seem to have some time on my hands, and I may as well see if I want to keep hauling this thing around with me. So I've been trying to get in half an hour of practice a day.
Verdict: I am terrible. No great shock; after twenty years anyone's skills would atrophy. Two weeks in and I'm at about a second-year level. I can play the pieces in Suzuki book 1 without sounding too terrible, and can fumble my way through most of book 2.
The real problem is that I realised last week that my posture is also terrible. For at least the last few years I played, I was sitting wrong. Holding the cello in the wrong place, too far down and at a weird angle. No wonder I slouch so much; no wonder I always hated playing higher than fourth position. It's a miracle I could bend my arm to find the notes at all.
Correcting my hold means that eventually I'll have an easier time playing harder pieces... but in the meantime all my instincts, for where to put my left hand and where to draw the bow, are wrong. Result: notes are flat and screechy and wobbly and generally unmusical.
Learning those things correctly is going to be awful, weeks and months of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Lightly Row and Go Tell Aunt Rhody. Stuff I thought I'd already paid my dues for years ago.
Oh well. Either it will be worth it, or I'll get a few bucks for an old cheap cello in poor condition.
I *would* like to be able to play the Bach cello suites someday, though.