Popper Etude Op. 73 No. 3

I will upload No. 2 soon. Just got a little out of order when I uploaded this post. :)

On Learning New Repertoire and Old

Learning music is a part of being a musician. In fact, it is one of the most exciting parts of being a musician. Don't get me wrong, I also enjoy the "mastery" part of having gone over a composition a thousand times in an effort to achieve a certain kind of perfection as well. However, the delving into a new piece, that unknown territory of bowing, fingering, and phrasing is a pretty cool feeling. It makes me look at my fingers and why I choose certain fingerings over others in a different way. Why, if the interval is the same and the notes are exactly the same in a particular place in the new piece of music as opposed to another piece, would I choose a totally differently fingering? Confounding perhaps? Well, maybe not all that much. Giving the context, the musical phrasing, dynamics, bowing, and over all mood of the music it becomes clearer.

I know, I know none of you can see the music that lays out before me but for those musicians who read this they will probably argue the same once they mindfully compare two different fingerings, from two different pieces, with exactly the same notes but with a different mood and feel. 

Well, that wasn't the way I actually thought I was going to begin this post. That was just a side note that popped into to my thoughts while wondering how to begin. Oh well, it will remain there. Ha....

What I really wanted to mention here was how my approach to learning music, whether I have practiced it a thousand times already or haven't even played one note of it yet. This summer I suddenly realized that if I truly wanted to have a piece of music in my head so that I didn't have to think twice about notes, fingerings, bowings, dynamics and be able to focus on the music making I would have to drastically revamp my practice habits. Going over large chunks and force-feeding myself extended passages won't work. It hasn't worked so far (that's probably close to 20 years worth of practice in that manor) and it never will work! 

That's when I had an epiphany. Haha, I say it's an epiphany but really I was watching a video about Rostropovich and how the great conductor Gennady Rozhdestvensky related a story of the great cellist learning the very difficult Hindemith concerto one night before performing it! Long story short they both stayed up until very early in the morning going over the concerto one measure at a time. And you know what? Rostropovich played it by memory without mistakes that night, less than 24 hours after beginning the learning process. 

I don't know if he never heard it before or never had seen the music. I doubt it. The point is really that he knew what to do to keep that music in his head and in his fingers and how to do it effectively. That story stuck with me and I determined to try it out for myself. First, I started on a small piece, technically easy. The Sicilienne  by Maria-Theresa von Paradis. I only learned one measure at a time. When it was perfected and I knew it by heart I went on to the next and repeated the process until I ran out of measures to memorize. To my astonishment, I knew the piece better after only hours (of cumulative practice) than any other piece I had already been playing for years! I could play it the next day after finishing the process and the next as well. Then I waited over the weekend to find out how well it really stuck, after all, it could be that I had simply been poring over it every day for a week. Next week came and wouldn't you know it, the music was still there waiting to by played from memory. 

Later on I decided to learn the third movement of the Schumann cello concerto in the same method. The pages totaled eight--very complex, arpeggiated, jumping passages weaved in. The effort lasted for four weeks but I can still play it now after two months. It is really an exciting process to know that the music is going in your head in a logical and consistent way. After all is said and done I would venture to say that the number of times going over the same passages are reduced by a 1/3 or at least a 1/4. While I never counted the repetitions done to memorize the music I do know that it is a whole lot more effective than cramming it into the head all at once. --I would liken the former process to that of trying to put a puzzle together by simply dumping the pieces out of the box and hoping they fall into place. 

Thank you Rozhdestvensky for telling that story. 

Breaking in a New Cello

Now that the search and purchase was over and done with I could focus my attention on practicing. The instrument was fantastic. Yes, that is true. However, it was a change. We all know that change is welcomed on many occasions but at the same time can be a challenge to overcome too. I was used to a larger instrument, but that wasn't a big deal. The smaller bouts were greeted with pleasure since it was actually easier to sit with. As I mentioned before, the response was immediate and full of vibrations that wouldn't die away seemingly forever, that was just awesome. That was one of the big reasons I liked the Wheedbee so much in the first place--no problem there.

What was the biggest challenge of changes that I faced? Mainly it was the learning curve on what a new instrument would do when faced with changing weather and climates. A synopsis of this cello's history: 1) Whedbee put the final coat of varnish on it only in early July 2008, 2) the cello was setup--end pin installed, bridged carved and fitted, strings put on for the very first time--just weeks before I went to Bein and Fushi for the first time looking for cellos, 3) I was practically the first to play on the instrument during that first trip to the shop, 4) I was the first owner of this cello.

What does all that mean as far as getting used to the instrument? In reality, it wasn't me getting used to the cello as much as the wood was getting used to its new found structure, that is, in the shape of a cello. Wood planks are chiseled, planed and sanded to get the right thickness and shape. The bouts --sides of the cello, which are curved--in addition to the chiseling, are also molded into the shape. The parts are glued and clamped together in a long and exacting process, assembling the cello piece by piece until you get the body or box of the instrument. The neck is glued into place as well to finish the process of the main cello. For the cello to withstand the immense amount of pressure that the steel strings have on the instrument it has to be precisely fitted and glued, even reinforced at strategic spots so the whole thing will not simply snap in two once the strings are tightened up.

Although tension is high once the strings are in place and tight, the wooden instruments--held together by glue--somehow withstands the rigors of vibration and being picked and put down, transported in a case and even bumped (by accident). However, just like a person being pulled from one side and then another--"Hey, come with me", "No, come with me", sort of a feeling--the cello also gets this treatment. After all, the wood was forced--molded--into the curved shapes and then glued together. Can't you imagine the person being pulled in one direction then another would want to revert back to his/her relaxed position? That's what's happening with the cello but on a continuous basis from the very first time the pieces were glued together. All this time it is resisting the changes and seeks to "relax" itself, reducing the tension placed upon the seams, or where the pieces of wood were glued together.

The seams are the pressure release valves on a cello. If the tension is off or becomes unbearable for the instrument this is usually the first place to go. The seam opens up and therefore releases the tension and, consequently, also half of the sound. The first time this happened on this cello I was wasn't expecting it at all. After all, it was brand new. What was there that should go wrong with a new instrument?

It was November 2008 and the weather had changed to the cooler and dryer climate of the ensuing winter months. The heat was on in the apartment and the moisture was being evaporated as fast as it was produced. That's life in the Midwest. I guess I was thinking that it was new and didn't need quite the attention as my old cello did. WRONG. And quite possibly the biggest factor that I hadn't accounted for was the fact that my cello was finished up in the middle of summer when the humidity was the highest and the temperatures were the hottest. Does wood expand when it's wet? Does wood contract when it's dry? Yes, and yes again.

Not only was the tension of the strings bearing down on the glued seams but the dry air was sucking all the moisture out of the wood and causing the pieces to shrink. Now I was dealing with a cello that was trying to pull itself apart. The glue couldn't hold any longer and finally let go allowing the seam to open along the back of the cello down at the bottom near the end pin. This happened several more times during the Winter. Luckily, I know benevolent luthiers who are also really good at repairing string instruments, so it didn't cost too much.

In the end, I did learn a lot about an instrument and how it "grows" into it's determined shaped. It takes time for it to adjust to the tension and the expanding with humid days along with the opposite pull during dry days. Now I just moisten the humidifiers in the cello case every day during the Fall and Winter regardless of the humidity inside or out. The easiest way to avoid going to the luthier unnecessarily is by keeping the humidity level up.