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Managing expectations, not panicking. Not at all.

Even though practising is not on the cards right now, I still think a lot about playing. I think about Bach, what it felt like playing some really spine-rattling bits in Mendelssohn 1 and I daydream about having effortless vibrato.

I’m also thinking about what my cello playing holds for me in the next few years. I love performance – I’m not one of those people who ‘play for themselves’ at home and feel no need to join a group, or have other people hear them. Obviously part of learning cello is for myself, god knows I wouldn’t spend that long on Sevcik for solitary joy of it, that’s for damn sure. But for me, watching the joy on friends’ and strangers’ faces as my orchestra soars through some phrase we drilled and drilled endlessly, standing up at the end feeling the warmth of applause – that is what it’s about.

Vancouver, where I’m moving to in approximately eight weeks (AAHHHHHH PANIC!), is not the hotbed of amateur music-making London is. I’ve tracked down two amateur orchestras, both with higher playing requirements than I can manage right now, both not particularly near anywhere we’ll be living. I only know woodwind and brass players from when I was in school, and have lost touch with pretty much all of them. I’m trying to keep my chin up, and not get stuck on the uphill climb that awaits me to get back to where I was, let alone where I’d like to be. And where will I be able to play? says the little scared let’s-not-move voice.

Realistically, when I’m not exhausted at the end of a trying day, I know I will find something. Chamber music may be the way forward for awhile, there is the incredible mine of cello information that is a Skype lesson with Emily Wright – it will be okay. I will get back there.

 
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Posted by on 26 April 2011 in Mum cellist, Orchestras

 

LCD Soundsystem celloified

Came across this lovely cover of LCD Soundsystem’s Someone Great skilfully rendered into cello using a sampler via @emilyapeterson - love it.

 
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Posted by on 31 March 2011 in Cellists, Nonclassical

 

Leaving on a container ship…

For many reasons, large and small, my little family has decided to pack up and move back to Vancouver, Canada, where most of us are from. Trying to raise a child far from all of our families has been very hard, and adding in the difficulty of living in London on one income (I decided to stay home with Elliot for the time being), it just made sense for us to move.

Of course I will miss London desperately, I love it here. This past weekend we had the chance to take Elliot to a family concert by the Berlin Philharmoniker cello section – let’s be honest, that’s not going to be happening in Vancouver. He’s been to Hampton Court Palace, toured Bath, seen concerts at Wigmore Hall a whopping four times and spent so much time in the foyers of Royal Festival Hall I think the iconic carpet will give him flashbacks of his babyhood for his whole life. I love that we could do all of those things, but part of me wishes we could have stayed a bit longer until he could remember it. However, Vancouver is rated the world’s most liveable city for good reason.

Anyway, the big move is happening in May. I’m in the middle of trying to sort out transatlantic shipping for all our stuff including my lovely cello. I was going to Fedex it as per Emily’s preferred method, but getting a flight case is proving impossible. We’re going to be shipping most of our stuff via container ship, and I’ve decided that’s as safe as anything else, especially in light of not being able to find a Mr Blobby. I did entertain ideas of wrapping my case in 64 layers of bubble wrap, but it’s probably not exactly the same thing.

As soon as I can convince Elliot not to thwack my cello with his toys, lift my music stand and toss it sideways, or any of the other creative ways toddlers make it impossible to practise, I will get back to it. An initial search doesn’t look good for an orchestra to play with, but we’ll see.

 
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Posted by on 23 February 2011 in Mum cellist

 

Thinking about playing, rather than actually playing

I know this endless talk of logistics of actually practising is getting tedious, but it’s what’s going on for me in my cello life at the moment. Unfortunately, there’s been no practising. At all. My son has entered toddlerhood and that means I’m running around after him 12 hours a day. He’s too little to understand that Mummy needs to sit down and play her cello now, and please don’t bash at it with your extra-large lego. No really don’t do that. Practising at night with a mute is possible, but as after his bedtime is the only time I have without a small person attached to my trouser leg, it is also filled with getting our UK citizenship paperwork finished, cleaning up, and breathing slowly for a little while.

I don’t mean this as a whinge… well okay I am feeling a wee bit exasperated at the moment because I don’t want to lose the progress I made with Emily teaching me on Skype and I can feel things slipping away. I know this high water mark of constant attention doesn’t go on forever, and there will be a time when I can practise. In the future. Sometime.

Thinking wistfully of hauling my cello through central London on the tube after work is something I never thought I would do – but just this afternoon I was pining for sore shoulders and a cup of tea in a cold church. I miss my orchestra.

 
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Posted by on 12 October 2010 in Mum cellist

 

Two discoveries – one practice session

Whilst digging through the piles of clothing in our bedroom, I discovered our extra hefty dark matter cello mute. I would link it, but when we tried to rebuy it when we thought we lost it, neither Christopher nor I could find it online. It’s metal, but feels super dense. And it kills sound dead. Which is great, because I practiced for half an hour AT NIGHT. As in, when the small person was asleep. This is great, I may actually get some practicing done.

Second discovery was using my iPad on my music stand. Emily had sent me some bits and pieces to work on that she had scanned in on her end. Pretty cool.

 
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Posted by on 27 August 2010 in Bach Cello Suites, Kit

 

Practising just got harder

I haven’t been practising much lately my previous schedule of breakfast then practise with Elliot in his playpen watching CBeebies on mute isn’t working anymore. Elliot turns one in a week (where did that time go? I have no idea) and starting walking a couple months ago. He is not content to sit in his playpen for more than about 20 seconds. After that, he stands at the bars shaking them and shouting and shouting shouting. I tried it the other day and I got about a minute into long tones and I couldn’t take it anymore.

I don’t quite know what to do. If I let him out, he grabs my music stand and waves it about dangerously. Waiting until Christopher gets home doesn’t work because that is a small window of time, carefully orchestrated, that involves sitting down to a family meal and then bedtime for Elliot. Our flat is too small for practising after he goes to bed, even with a mute. Even if I did convince him not to swing the music stand into my cello, his tolerance level for me doing anything that doesn’t involve him – whether it’s making his lunch, trying to check my email or load the washing machine – is extremely low anyway. 

Musician mums, how do you cope?

 
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Posted by on 23 August 2010 in Mum cellist

 

Apologies

Sorry everyone who may have been inundated with old Fugue State posts in their RSS readers. I’ve now moved home from Typepad to WordPress, so hang in there. For the same reason, images or youtube embedded clips may have disappeared. I’m slowly fixing it up, slowly being the operative word…

 
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Posted by on 18 August 2010 in Mum cellist

 

Prelude to urrrrgh

I’ve now gotten to the halfway mark in the Prelude (end of the first page in my Barenreiter edition). It feels insane that I’ve made it this far. I still get a minor panic attack when I sit down to practice just looking it – holy crap! I can’t play this! You’re kidding right?

Once I spend ten seconds talking myself down, and look at the actual music rather than just a page too dense with black marks, I’m okay again. Full disclosure here I’m working my way through in four notes to a bow, or even separate bows, just to get the thing under my fingers.

I’m at that nasty little bit before the pause on the D – bars 20 and 21. Starting on that low C# and nipping up in an ungainly set of leaps. The fingering isn’t even that hard, but it reminds me of trying to say one of those tongue twisters. She sells seashells by the seashore, that kind of thing. It involves the same kind of one-eye-closed concentration for me.

Listening to Steven Isserlis’ recording, I swear it sounds annoying to play. Watch Mischa Maisky do it at about 1:00. Even he looks like he’s saying ‘urrrrgh’ in his head through that bit.

 
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Posted by on 2 August 2010 in Bach Cello Suites

 

East London Late Starters Orchestra

In my last year at ELLSO, a lovely film student by the name of Ed Houghton made a short documentary about this great adult teaching orchestra. You can see me in the cello section – front row, outside chair. Remember, contact them now to join in September – no previous music experience necessary.

 
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Posted by on 21 July 2010 in Orchestras

 

Winning, eight bars at a time

In many areas of my life these days I've had to adjust my goals. An unexpected half an hour of quiet time while the monkey sleeps outside the local Waitrose that coincides with having three-quarters of a latte left? Absolutely brilliant. 

In cello terms, the first eight bars of the Bach Prelude sounds more like music and less like hesitant chicken scratching through unfamiliar fingerings? WIN. 

Even though I talked up my 15 minute practice sessions, I had a voice in the back of my head saying, 'yeah sure, it will take you three years to get anywhere'. And yes, it will take me a long time, but changing the finish line helps with that. I sat down with the first 16 bars of the Prelude today (In the Night Garden on mute for monkeypants) and those first eight bars I have been working on floated by. For the first time I was thinking about things other than 'holy crap I hate this string crossing'. 

And I experienced that little frisson you get playing those opening bars of the Prelude that feels like every cellist in the world, past and present, is sitting in your chair with you. I love that.  

 
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Posted by on 25 June 2010 in Bach Cello Suites

 
 
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