Making music: on playing the cello
I used to play the cello.
Well, perhaps “play” is too strong a word. I was chosen for the instrument (no, that’s not a typo; I was chosen for it, rather than the reverse) in fifth grade, at the public elementary school I attended in New York back when all such schools had numbers instead of names.
They tested us to see who had some musical aptitude, and for what instrument. Some of these tests were pretty simple. For example, one was as simple as “Are you a boy or are you a girl?” Stringed instruments went only to girls (Jascha Heifetz, eat your heart out), and cellos went only to tall girls.
I was a tall girl back then, although I’m not anymore (no, I haven’t shrunk; it’s the pictures that got small.) I reached my full height around fourth grade, and so in fifth I was still much taller than average, considered a good candidate for a big instrument like the cello.
And I could differentiate between on key and off, an absolute prerequisite for any stringed instrument. After all, on a cello, you create the notes; they’re not ready-made.
A few drawbacks to the cello: carrying it back and forth to school twice a week was an arduous task, especially when I had to carry hefty books as well (this was in that punishing interval before backpacks became standard but when bookbags after first grade were only for nerds.)
And, of course, as with all musical instruments, you had to practice.
I understood practicing in principle. I even liked the gorgeous rich mellow sound a cello makes, and wanted to emulate it. But the gap between that sound and the one I managed to create was too immense to be bridged, even in my imagination. In other words, I wasn’t motivated enough to put in the hours required.
Although I never really managed to make a truly pleasant sound, I did learn just enough to saw away at that cello in the junior high school orchestra, and even put in a couple of years with the high school group, where our repertoire leaned heavily towards Sousa marches that had no cello part (we were supposed to play from the trombone sheet music). I didn’t make much progress in all that time, and I quit in mid-high school, with no regrets. Listening to the cello was fine, but playing it held no special interest for me, and I haven’t really thought about it since.
Until the other evening, that is. I was at a meeting of my book group (great book, by the way: Cry the Beloved Country). A gleaming cello was leaning against the wall in the hostess’s dining room, and she told us she was just starting to take lessons, a lifelong dream. She gave a demonstration of what she’d learned so far—basic scales.
Afterwards, the cello was passed around so we all could have a go at it. And as it came close to me I felt a strange sensation, a certain feeling in my arms and hands of being about to start something familiar—and yet almost from a previous life, it seemed so long ago.
My friend who’d taken a couple of lessons had to prompt me even to remember the fingering for a simple scale. I took the cello from her, positioned my left hand on its neck and my right on the bow, placed the bow on the strings, pressed down, and began.
It didn’t sound like Yo Yo Ma, but it didn’t sound half bad. It sounded as though I’d actually played a cello before, once upon a time. My body memory had kicked in, and all these little habits sprang forth as though they’d only been hibernating all that time: how hard to press, how to move my right wrist back and forth in a wave motion, how to lean slightly on the inside edge of the bow with the downstroke and the outside with the upstroke, and even how to create a bit of tentative vibrato with the left hand.
Probably the sound was better than my old cello for the simple reason that this was a better cello: richer, fuller, more resonant. I’d forgotten what it was like to create music with my own hands, and to feel it vibrate in every cell of my body and every corner of the room. Writing is wonderfully creative, but there’s nothing physical about it except the risk of carpal tunnel syndrome.
The creation of music is very physical. The most personal and direct form of that physicality, of course, is singing; there, one’s body is the instrument (dance, the art I know best, is even more so in that respect). In playing a stringed instrument the body is the medium that evokes and releases the music, but ultimately the creation of the sound depends on the interaction between the two.
I’d forgotten, but it was wonderful to remember.
FIDDLER JONES
—-Edgar Lee Masters
The earth keeps some vibration going
There in your heart, and that is you.
And if the people find you can fiddle,
Why, fiddle you must, for all your life.
What do you see, a harvest of clover?
Or a meadow to walk through to the river?
The wind’s in the corn; you rub your hands
For beeves hereafter ready for market;
Or else you hear the rustle of skirts
Like the girls when dancing at Little Grove.
To Cooney Potter a pillar of dust
Or whirling leaves meant ruinous drouth;
They looked to me like Red-Head Sammy
Stepping it off to ‘Toor-a-Loor.’
How could I till my forty acres
Not to speak of getting more,
With a medley of horns, bassoons and piccolos
Stirred in my brain by crows and robins
And the creak of a wind-mill–only these?
And I never started to plow in my life
That some one did not stop in the road
And take me away to a dance or picnic.
I ended up with forty acres;
I ended up with a broken fiddle–
And a broken laugh, and a thousand memories,
And not a single regret.
“Out of me unworthy and unknown
The vibrations of deathless music”
Anne Rutledge
Spoon River Anthology
I love Edgar Lee.
Now I’m fantasizing a camcorded vision with sound of that magical moment — like riding a bicycle? — when somatic memories kicked in. Very evocative.
Well, Sissy, it actually didn’t sound so good. It just sounded a lot better than I expected it to sound. The magic was more internal; not so sure it would be translated to a recording :-).
Thanks, Neo. It’s a wonderful thing to be able to pick up something and make a beautiful sound – hard to describe if you’ve never done it. I am a clarinetist (it was my major and I used to play professionally) and still play with a couple of community groups.
When I go through periods when I don’t play I feel a little less alive. If I couldn’t play I would miss it terribly.
I have to share this, which will ring true to all musicians:
Dave runs into Bob on the street in Manhattan.
“Bob! I haven’t seen you in years! What have you been up to?”
Bob says, “Well, when we last worked together, I was playing tenor and
soprano.”
Dave says, “Yeah I remember that.”
Bob says, “Well, I started writing for that band.”
Dave says, “Really? I never heard about that.”
Bob says, “Yeah, and then I published a bunch of the charts for student
bands.”
Dave says, “Really? I never heard about that.”
Bob says, “Yeah, and it worked out pretty well, and I started getting
commissions.”
Dave says, “Really? I never heard about that.”
Bob says, “Yeah, and then I started writing for the Kenton and Herman
bands.”
Dave says, “Really? I never heard about that.”
Bob says, “Yeah, it worked out pretty well. Then I got in touch with
some Hollywood guys, and I started writing for pop records.”
Dave says, “Really? I never heard about that.”
Bob says, “That went pretty well, and I actually got nominated for a
Grammy for writing.”
Dave says, “Really? I never heard about that.”
Bob says, “That went pretty well, and I started writing for movie
soundtracks.”
Dave says, “Really? I never heard about that.”
Bob says, “Yeah, and I got nominated for an Oscar for my writing on a
feature film.”
Dave says, “Really? I never heard about that.”
Bob says, “Yeah, it was pretty cool. Once I got nominated, the
writing work really started pouring in.”
Dave says, “Really? I never heard about that.”
Bob says, “Yeah – amazing. Pop groups, studio sessions, commercials,
new bands, diva singers, everything.”
Dave says, “Really? That’s amazing. I never heard about that.”
Bob says, “Well, but the problem was, I really let my sax chops slide.”
Dave says, “Really?”
Bob says, “In fact, I’m in town to receive another writing award, and
I just sat in this morning at a jam session down in the Village.”
Dave says, “Really?”
Bob says, “Yeah, and it didn’t go too well – I’ve been away from the
horn for quite a while.”
Dave says, “Really.”
Bob says, “So, I took a couple of solos, and they weren’t very good.”
Dave says, “Yeah, I heard about that.”
I used to play the cello too, and I guess technically I still do. After a while, though, i realized that I was much better at writing music than I was at playing it.
“…I was much better at writing music than I was at playing it.”
Exact opposite here; I need the sheet music. I’ll be the first to admit that although I have the technical knowledge and emotional sensitivity to music, there’s not a creative bone in my body.
Never played the cello, but it is my favorite stringed instrument with it’s low, soft tones. I took 7 years of piano along with playing the clarinet, bass clarinet and contrabass clarinet in jr-hi thru hs. I even learned a scale on the bassoon.
Haven’t played a danged thing in over 25 years, tho. Lately I’ve been thinking about getting a set of practice bagpipes to learn; they’re a bit quieter and sweeter sounding than the Great Highland ones.
Need that resonance…
I used to play the trombone. After years of practice I gave it up when entering High School out of fear of the band director, much to the relief of our neighbors.
Loyal:
I admire anyone who can compose, even slight ditties.
Like the man below your entry, I need a score. After many years playing piano, I found I was not interested in music until college…then I went ape.
right ow I’m collecting opera scores…perhaps deep down, I want to conduct.
Lord help any orchestra I lead…
Neo,
While in College I picked up and learned Country Western Guitar — Love good Classical guitar… and reasonable music.
Composed a few ditties also.. Nothing famous or popular, probably not even good.
Haven’t played since shortly after college.. even though my kids bought a nice one for me about 5 years ago.. Can’t get my fingers to work — without hurting..
But for all of you real musicians a quick story..
I was speaking with my wife’s daughter, a very accomplished musician.. I said to her, “Quite honestly I am not much of a musician, but I consider myself a great music critic.”
With a wry smile, she replied, “Everyone is!”
How true!!
ExP(Jack)
I used to play the violin, 6th grade elementary school in Ohio. It was either the flute or the violin and I have never been fond of the sound of a flute, although I admire the virtuosity of flautists. I schlepped my violin and music stand back and forth to school, the infamous one mile trek, uphill both ways, twice a week for free group lessons from the school band leader. We got what we paid for. I was taking piano lessons, and had for two years, and so knew how to read music, but we had no money for private violin lessons. I tried, God knows I tried, but the band leader, Mr. Griep (we called him Mr. Gripe) was essentially a “band” leader and had no real use for violins or other string instruments. If you can’t march with it, forget it. His perfunctory “lessons” consisted of not much more than telling us what string was which note, how to tune the strings, and how to resin the bow. That was pretty much it. When the “orchestra” played recitals, the string section barely help up its end of the program. I knew enough about music to be mortified at the performances, but it took me the whole year to get up the courage to quit. It was such a relief. I stayed with the piano for 6 more years and still play it, mostly for myself and my grandchildren. I picked up the guitar in the 60’s, (didn’t everybody?) and calloused my fingers accordingly, although I only chorded my way through the obligatory folk and protest songs. Michael Rowed his Boat Ashore more times that I could count. I gave that up too, as I left college behind and graduated to real life.
I loved this post. I see that many others can relate to your story as well.
I grew up with a great wish to learn to play guitar. Not enough courage to try very hard though. I went back to college in my 30s, and when I graduated, I decided that, if I could learn, math, physics, chemistry, etc., I could learn guitar. So that’s what I bought instead of a class ring.
I taught myself guitar, I’m not very good, can’t read music or anything formal like that, and four back surgeries made it hurt for me to play for a long, long time. But lately I’ve started back, attempting to play. Along the way, years ago, I bought a really nice acoustic, premium woods and extremely light and resonant.
I’ve never even held a cello or even a violin, but I understand, a little bit at least, what you describe here. The first time I took out that acoustic after a couple of years of ignoring it, tuned it, and started playing some basic chords and songs, the thing just felt “alive” in my arms.
I guess it’s no wonder music touches us all, great players, not-so-great players (like me), and listeners.
I love your blog, but something about this one caused me to de-lurk.
Sigh, after reading your article I am so envious. It is a bit pathetic to long for even a high school exposure to an instrument but I do – two weeks on a piano and I decided there were better things a 9 year old boy (like model rockets and home brewed chemical mixtures that smoked foul oders).
However, later in life (five years ago at 50)I explored jazz and swing and had an unexpected musical awakening that seemed to swamp my prior enjoyment of rock and classical music. Melodies now haunt me, and I now wish I could swing with a clarinet or sax rather than filling my day dreams of being a peer to Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, and Coleman Hawkins…
Alas, all I can do is imagine.
Nice article.
I took up the violin a few years back, with no prior experience. It’s been a wonderful pleasure for me ever since. Still taking lessons. I occasionally even make progress.
Thanks for helping me relive the joy of starting.
Neo,
I’ve been enjoying your blog for a few months now, having made a similar journey since the events of aught-one. And the writing is always top-notch.
But now I’m really floored…as I’m a cellist and all. Talk about parallel lives.
I hope you are planning for a good long haul in the blogosphere…I sent my dad, a crypto-neocon (converted back in the late 60’s with the first crop), some of your work (on recognizing evil a couple of weeks ago) and he thought it so fine that it should be published in Commentary or some such.
The fact that you write (equally brilliantly of course) on matters non-political makes the site even more of a treat…more like a good magazine, like the Atlantic or Commentary.
All best wishes…want to hear if the cello starts calling to you again…
I play the piano badly.
But recently I bought a ukulele – now I need to find a teacher. It looks like so much fun. (yeah, I know, Tiny Tim and all that…)
Talent only means about 5 to 10 percent to the development of a musician. The rest is hard work and a few mentors who can aid in your development. Here I speak of musicians and not of that poorly done stuff that usually gets Grammys.
Like the Nobel prize or the Oscars one wonders whether people who receive them get them for talent or for political reasons.
There are few things in life that give such pleasure as creating music.
I picked up the cello about 5 years ago when this happened at my house: “Oh, yeah, my mom, yaknow, she only plays ONE instrument…” Since my obnoxious spouse and obnoxious children were rubbing my nose in my less than stellar musical accomplishments, I decided to buy one, start taking lessons and punish them all with hours and hours of practicing. Bad practicing.
I got more enjoyment out of it then they will ever know. There are times when it sounds like an elephant’s toenails on a blackboard, but then the times it sounds rich and full….ahhh. It’s worth all the trouble. While I’ll never play in a big symphony, I’m decent enough for the church orchestra. And I’m there every Sunday.
Now if I could only get Pablo the dishy cabana boy to haul the dang thing around for me……
Certainly I admire you that play an instrument. I’ve been a listener for many years, given recently to pursuing the perfect Mozart.
No one seems to get everything right, it seemed. I encountered a young Canadian violinist who seemed better at Mozart than most (James Ehnes).
And then Amazon and such made aware of the seemingly endless number of violin virtuosi under the age of 30. Whether from Siberia or Scandinavia, there are so many incredibly gifted young people alone playing that one instrument, the violin. If you want to hear more, try a classical internet station and discover them.
Great post, neo.
Seven years of piano, then trumpet for a decade after.
I’m forced to drag it out and play at a wedding now and then. Wish I had the time (probably more importantly, the motivation) to become truly proficient again. There are few pleasures in life greater than making music.
Neat Cello Story
Just thought I would share this link with you. Great blog, and thanks for all the fine writing!
Guitar, keyboards and trombone in high school. Had a band and played in a “folk trio”. There is absolutely nothing more rewarding than making music with someone who shares your passion; as Bryan Adams says, “Those were the best days of my life” (“Summer of ’69”). I never got really good; I play well enough to please myself and accompany (poorly) friends and family at our annual Christmas carol get-together, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
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