The New Stable Mate Arrives

Last week I owned four bikes: a road bike which I bought myself as a graduation present when I received my DMA in 2019 and which I recently logged my ten thousandth mile on, a mountain bike which I bought for myself in 2014 when I found out I’d be going to Banff for a month(that was a little impulsive, but still insanely fun to ride in Banff). My polo bike which also doubled for a short time as my work bike when I was a messenger for Scram Couriers, and finally a gravel bike that I bought two years ago during the gravel-bike craze. It was kind of meant to be an all-around commuter bike that I had dreams of using for bike packing. That dream is not dead, it’s just resting on a vinyl tarp in the back of the garage while I focus on the newest bike to join the stable.

I got a call last Thursday that my new cargo bike was ready to be picked up. Motorless Motion Bicycles, the local Tern dealer, happens to be connected to Bandit Taco, a favorite restaurant of mine, so I used this as an excuse to head over to the shop during a rehearsal break for Willy Street Chamber Players, my summer chamber music group. I was hoping to pick up my new bike using my car, but it was apparent when I saw the bike that fitting it in my little hatchback would not be possible without serious readjustment of the passenger seat. Since I had our violist Nick with me, that wasn’t going to work. In any case, one of the shop workers said it’d be more fun to have someone drop me off and then ride it home. I concurred with this opinion and settled up on the bike before eating some delicious tacos and heading back to rehearsal.

When we got out of rehearsal, I drove my cello home, grabbed my helmet and sunglasses and Ubered back to the shop getting there just before it closed. The salesperson wished me a nice ride and told me to come back when I had figured the cello cargo situation so that they could see what I’d come up with.

The bike I purchased is a Tern Quick Haul Long. It is a nice long-tail class 1 E-cargo bike with beefy little 20-inch tires and a lovely Bosch system that provides a good amount of assist. I quickly found myself in the highest setting rolling along at around 19 mph. This system ends assist at 20mph in the US version, but I found it hard to reach that speed on the flats without giving a significant effort and I don’t see much of a point in exerting myself for that extra little bit. Overall the Bosch system is really nice and intuitive. It seems to give a little extra to get you going and while you know it’s always there, it’s never feels out of place or like it’s going to cause issues with the control or handling of the bike. The low center of gravity makes it feel really stable and hauling 50 lbs of groceries was a total breeze. The extra weight didn’t seem to affect the balance of the bike much at all. In fact, because the weight sits so low in the panniers it almost makes the bike more stable.

I’ve put on about 70 miles so far and this includes about five lake loops. We live in a spot where if I’m coming from or going to the capital square or most places west of that, I can choose to either go north of lake Monona or South of it and the commute time is roughly the same, so I figure why not just complete the loop? In any case, I’m looking forward to exploring the limits of this bike over the next few weeks. I’m very encouraged by the initial time I’ve spent on it.

Bullit

I toyed with the idea of various other bikes including the Bullit, Omnium and Riese-Müller Load 75. These are all front loading cargo bikes and for aesthetic/romantic purposes, I was very drawn to the idea of owning one of these. I thought that they might be an easy way to drop the cello in a bucket and head out on the road, but for a variety of reasons, I felt they might not be practical for my purposes.

The Bullit is a bike that I remember well from my messenger days. Scram Couriers never owned one, but I would see the messengers in Milwaukee, Minneapolis and Chicago using them for large deliveries. I never got to ride one and I still haven’t. I did track one down on Facebook Marketplace, but even used it was a little too expensive. I still feel that what I’m attempting to do doesn’t have a guarantee of success and I want to be as sure as I can that it will work before I go splurging. The Bullit would have been an impulsive purchase partly because I think the cargo area isn’t quite large enough to fit a cello without some awkwardness of the cello either hanging off the side or kind of angled up over the front wheel. The wheel base is also very long which may make it stable high speeds, but not particularly maneuverable in traffic.

Omnium

I was also pitched the idea of an Omnium which apparently feels the most like a road bike. This wasn’t a huge selling point for me. I love my road bike, but I don’t love the riding position and as a cellist, prone to neck tightness and chronic spinal flexion already, the last thing I want is to be hunched over for my 6 mile commute (each way) roughly 80-100 times a year. As I get older I have to consider the little metaphorical straws on my back. I pictured the cello resting pretty high up on this cargo area and it didn’t seem there was much of a way to carry anything else without installing a rear rack. Not a huge deal, and it may have worked well, but it was still more expensive than the Tern and maybe not as practical. The aesthetic is always something that I find compelling, but it was not compelling enough to make me take the risk on this particular bike.

Riese-Muller Load 75

Pikey enjoying a Willy Street Chamber Players rehearsal and not chasing squirrels or bun-buns

The Riese-Muller Load 75 was the most attractive front-loading option. It’s highly rated and comes with a full suspension, which partially solves one of the issue I’m most concerned about which is bumpy roads and the cello getting jostled around. The jostling could result in the adjustment being thrown out (bridge or sound post moving out of place) or worse it could result in some kind of structural damage to the cello. It’s unclear to me if there is a cello case with adequate internal suspension to absorb all of the bumps I will encounter on my way to Overture Center while laying on its back(more on this further on in the post). A full suspension bike would be both comfortable for me and potentially good for the cello. It also seems to provide a nice low tray to carry the cello and some protective side bars in case I wipe out or get hit. However, this particular bike costs nearly 10k. I think this is an aspirational bike for some point in the future if my current bike for some reason isn’t working or if I had a kid to cart around or if I ever had a dog that wasn’t so triggered by prey animals and other dogs (See photo)

The Tern seems to offer three options for toting the cello around. The first is laying it flat on the top of the rack with some kind of straps securing it to the rack. This was initially what I was thinking might work best, but it would require me to build some kind of suspension into the platform. I’m not sure there is enough room for the travel I need to absorb shocks and bumps along the route. I honestly don’t really know how much travel I need, but based on my mechanical intuition, this feels like it would be bad for the cello since the case is really better at absorbing impacts to the base or top, like if you were to drop it quickly from your back or hit it against the ceiling. The cello has somewhat firm pads along the back of the case so hitting a bump with the cello in this position might basically mean the cello itself is absorbing most of that energy. Cellos, like humans, can be surprisingly strong and simultaneously very fragile and while I’m not throwing this idea out all together, it just feels riskier than I would like.

The second solution is to do what Ben Sollee did and strap it to the side of the cargo area horizontally. This looks the most neat, but I suspect might be kind of annoying to rig up every time I need to take the cello out and would make the case most exposed to spray and dirt and whatever gets kicked up during those less clear days on the road. I didn’t mock this one up because I was too lazy and again something tells me this may not be a great solution. There is even less padding in the case to absorb shocks in this orientation. Plus it would be riding directly on the foot rails which are quite hard. Yes, I could pad them, but then they lose function as foot rails for my passenger.

The flexible sling in which the bottom of my cello doth rest

The third option is maybe the most absurd looking, but may be the best option for ease of attachment, suspension efficacy and cello safety. This would be having the cello upright in one of the panniers and strapped in using a harness of some kind. It would be easy to put some kind of foam layering in the base of the pannier while still making it easy to fold up when not in use and the cello case itself has good vertical suspension as mentioned. In fact the bottom of the cello rests in a kind of sling inside the case (pictured) which is somewhat elastic and the cello doesn’t actually rest on anything hard in this position, so coupling that with some foam in the bottom of the pannier should almost solve the suspension issue.

This position looks the most precarious, but with some simple solutions it should be very secure. I had the idea today of having someone make a weatherproof padded cover for the cello that would go over top of the cello and buckle directly to the rack and to the pannier in which it is resting. This would keep the cello secured inside the pannier and not only help with protecting the case from the elements (sun/rain etc) but with a light colored or maybe even reflective cordura, I would be more visible at night. And if I needed to bail or wiped out for some reason, the cello is close to the ground and may even be protected by the bike depending on which way I fell. The cover would also obviate the need for me to have the case wrapped in automotive vinyl, another brilliant idea that I’d had earlier on in this process. If I end up going with option #1(above), I’ll likely have to have the case wrapped in vinyl to prevent the sun from boiling the cellos varnish on very hot days.

I think this picture looks a little absurd in its proportion, but I will blame that partly on a very old phone camera and the fisheye effect that it creates. It’s not quite as crazy as it may look here. The bike is heavy and very stable low down and the cello is not that heavy so while this looks a little top-heavy, it will not effect the balance of the bike much at all.

It’s always my hope that the most functional solution will result in a beautiful form. I’m not sure if this hope is going to be fulfilled in this case, but we will see. Given how well the bike rides, I feel clear that this is going to be doable somehow. I’m sure figuring out how to meet all of my needs in doing this will require an iterative process rather than a “eureka” moment and I will keep updating this process as new developments arise. It would be nice to feel confident enough in this cello carriage by September so that I can use it for our first concert week of the 2025-26 MSO season.

Biking with a cello: Experiment #1 (Is this the right case?)

Few will know this about me now, but when I first moved to Madison, I worked as a bike messenger for about four years. I moved to Madison on somewhat of a whim coupled with a connection I had made with my future teacher at UW. I wasn’t sure if I was going to go back to school for my doctorate, but an open invitation existed and I felt moving to Madison was more interesting than staying in Rochester, NY and easier than moving back to Boston and much less expensive than moving to the Bay Area even though I’d have been closer to family out there. The first year I was here, I spent a couple of weeks on Craiglist looking for jobs. I applied to some things that I was extremely under qualified for like music engraving, and some things that I was overqualified for, including a job that would’ve had me wearing lederhosen on a regular basis. (I got the job, but I bailed before the first shift. I’m not proud of that, but it was probably the correct decision for me) I suppose I was simultaneously over and under qualified for many jobs which I’m sure most musicians will empathize with. Our training is so rigorous that the generalized discipline and detail orientation we possess might make us good at many jobs, but we also have spent so much time on such specific things that we may initially lack specific skills for any given non-musical job.

The job I landed on was working as a sandwich delivery “driver” for Jimmy Johns. I put driver in quotations because all of the delivery was done by bike. I showed up to the JJ on state street, was trained in the art of sandwich making and then sent out into the world to make deliveries. Funnily enough I avoided making my first sandwich for about six months until I was left alone in the store for five minutes at bar time. Someone got the slowest #6 ever made, but I doubt they noticed. I think that was one of about five sandwiches I made during my nine months working at Jimmy Johns, none of which were “freaky fast.”

At the risk of turning this into a much longer post. I met some of my best friends working first at Jimmy Johns and then for Scram! couriers, a messenger company here in Madison. Being a messenger connected me to the city; I have been in nearly every building downtown to deliver either a sandwich, a legal document, medication, lab specimens, live fish….the list goes on.

in an elevator in 2012. Bike messengers spend a lot of time in elevators

Doing that job made me feel a sense of familiarity with this city that I know I couldn’t have gotten any other way(Maybe a building inspector? Now that’s a job I am under qualified for) If being a bike messenger was more lucrative than playing the cello, then I would likely still being doing that in some form. Which brings me to the point of this post.

It has long been a dream of mine to commute with my cello by bike. In 2014 I had a bag messenger bag maker make me a kind of cello necklace that would help me clip my cello into my cavernous messenger bag(Pictured below in 2014). It was kind of a goofy design and the cello sat way too high up on my back, so while I did ride around with it a few times, it was never something I could do comfortably. The lack of E-assist also meant that anywhere I went, I would arrive with a serious sweat on. Arriving sweaty is not something I want to do out of consideration for myself and my colleagues and to a certain extent the varnish on my cello.

Currently, when I have rehearsal, I throw my cello in the back of my car and drive roughly 12 minutes to Overture Center. It’s not a particularly difficult commute, but I have continued to come back to the idea of commuting with my cello by cargo bike. It has been an unshakeable feeling and it makes sense given how much joy I still derive from riding my bike.

I find myself on the verge of buying an E-cargo bike to make this dream a reality, but I wanted to blog about the process since the internet has relatively little to say about cello+cargo bike+commute. I’m going to talk through some of the logistical hurdles that I see and as I hopefully progress through this, I will document some of my journey so that others who might want to free themselves from their cars might be ge the courage to do so.

I know that it is much more common to commute with a cello by bike in Europe as this is something I witnessed both in Amsterdam and Germany and know about anecdotally. Madison has excellent biking infrastructure and most of my commute would either be on a path or a protected street, so safety is not much of an issue, though I will get into talking about the safety of the cello itself.

The first issue and thus the first experiment to undertake is one that involves the weather. Cello cases have come a long way, but to my knowledge there are only a few cases that do all of the things necessary to make commuting by bike feasible year-round in a climate like Madison’s. First, the case needs to be weatherproof. This means that it is functionally watertight. I think there are few cases that would not eventually sink if thrown in a lake, but most cases have a seal which makes them impervious to rain/snow. The larger issue with the weather is undoubtedly temperature/humidity. The case that I currently use is a GEWA air which is a polycarbonate case that is light, strong and has excellent insulation properties. The company even touts the R-value of this case, which is not language I have seen anywhere else. A lot of cases are made of carbon fiber for lightness and strength, but carbon fiber is a terrible insulator and such a case would not be a good idea for commuting except in perfect conditions. So how well does my case insulate?

I decided to test out how hot the interior of the case would get after 10/20 minutes of direct sun. With the ambient temperature at 78 degrees f, I set the case (with nothing in it of course) in the direct sun for ten minutes. I put a hygrometer/thermometer in the case to measure the temp when opened. I also decided that it would be interesting to measure the exterior temperature vs interior

After ten minutes in the direct sun, I measured the exterior with my infrared thermometer and the surface of the case was an alarming 133.5 degrees Fahrenheit. The case is black and so I expected that it would get hot, but I didn’t expect it to get so hot so quickly. Fortunately when I opened it up, it read 81.1 degrees as an interior temperature with a humidity of 61%. The difference between the interior/exterior temps impressed me.

For the second round I put the cello back in the same place for another ten minutes. The sun was out the entire time and the ambient temp was just below 80 degrees. I felt concerned that the case would start to come apart if the exterior continued to get hotter, but I felt it was worth really testing the limit. At the end of round two, the exterior of the case was 144 degrees Fahrenheit.

I decided that in order to get a better interior reading this time I would move the case to the shade before opening it up. Upon attempting to open it up, I discovered that the latch which also contains the combination lock was stuck in a weird way. I suspect this had to do with the heat and that was slightly concerning until I managed to free the latch. This time I used the infrared gun to check the back of the case first. 91 degrees was hot, but not terrible and the case actually felt reasonable to the touch.

I realized though that the true test would be the inside of top of the case which was exposed to the direct sun. This read in multiple spots as roughly 102 degrees

So after 20 minutes in the direct sun, the interior of the case is pretty hot. Probably too hot for a cello, especially one with soft varnish. However, this is July 9th. I don’t commute to Overture in June, July or August, and even if I was commuting, rehearsals are typically at 7pm and I’d be leaving the house around 6:20pm. On top of this, my route is shaded for about 50% of the time. So it’s unlikely that the temperature would ever reach a dangerous level inside the case. The case exterior is another issue that may be solved by simply putting a reflective blanket over it while I travel.

While there are still more questions to be answered before deciding if this is the right case for all conditions, I feel fairly confident that this case can insulate well enough during the time of day/year that I need it. The ideal case would be a white case since it would be much more reflective and that may be the ultimate direction I go, but for now, this equipment is not going to get in the way of my adventure, at least not from a temperature standpoint

The next questions I will have to answer are these:

1. How will this insulate in the cold? Most of the symphony season is spent in temperatures below 45 degrees, so there’s a question of cold transfer, especially when it’s below freezing. I do have a silk bag that the cello can go inside and the tight weave helps delay the transfer of cold to the cello itself, but this is unknown. I need someone with a walk-in freezer to help me with this next experiment.

2. How would it deal with a collision. Biking is inherently riskier for the instrument. I am a very confident rider, but accidents do happen. In fact the skin on my ankle is still healing from a bike accident last September. Not much blood flow to that area. In any case, how do I test the impact absorption of this case? My intuition tells me that the case would likely survive any impact, but the cello might not be so lucky. Certain cases flex more than others and I’m not convinced this one would do the trick in the case of an accident. I would love to take a sledge hammer to this case with a bricked cello on the inside. If you’re reading this and you want to sacrifice a GEWA air and a junk cello that is no longer playable, please contact me. You can even appear in a video with me using various heavy items to try to destroy this contents of the case.

3. General shock absorption. Riding a bike can be bumpy. The roads here are far from perfect and a cello being jostled around for 20 minutes each way four nights in a row will likely not be great for the adjustment of the instrument. I know that this case is not capable of absorbing those shocks. I will be experimenting with tire pressure I’m sure, but ultimately I will have to build some kind of a shock absorbing sled for the cello to sit on, either as I carry it with my backpack straps or ideally as it lays on it’s back on the cargo rack of the bike. I will document that project as I go, and who knows, maybe I’ll even make some youtube videos about that too

4. Does my instrument insurance cover travel by bike? Not a particularly flashy question, but if you break it and it isn’t covered you’ll be very sad, and also very broke. Instrument insurance is notorious for not covering air-travel and it would not surprise me if travel by bike was also exempt from the policy in some way. This is a question that I can probably answer fairly easily by calling Clarion, but it’s a question that needs to be addressed before I feel comfortable enough e-biking with my cello. If I need to change my insurance, that’s something I’m willing to do

Alright, that’s all for now. If you’re reading this and want to leave a comment, please do.

Ballet for Musicians

In 2018 the Madison Symphony gave a youth concert with works by Bernstein and other American composers. The orchestra had hired dancers for Leonard Bernstein’s, Three Dance Episodes from On the Town. On the Town is one of those musicals that you don’t know that you know. It opens with the song, New York, New York, which you may know from various pop-culture parodies including the Simpsons’ “Springfield, Springfield.” This piece is not normally performed with dancers, and I am unsure if the local company we used choreographed their own dance to go with these vignettes or if they used Jerome Robbins’ choreography. Given how expensive it is to license the choreography from Robbins’ estate, I am guessing it was the former. Anyhow that is a bit of a digression which will make sense later.

Throughout the three performances of the work I found myself increasingly admiring the hired dancers for their skill and expression, and for the beauty they were able to create through movement. We as musicians create beauty through our movement too, but there’s an extra product which is sound. In dance the only product is the pure movement. Perhaps this is yet another element of dance that feels so exposed. There is no speech, there is no music, there is just movement which creates nothing extra and elicits an emotion. There is no product but the dance itself.

My mother wanted me to learn to dance as a child, but weekly ballroom in sixth grade was my introduction to formal dance. I rebelled against that hard. Every week there was a battle of wills in the run-up to class where I would complain to no end and try to argue that dance was not a critical life skill. My mother would guilt me into going by telling me that no one would want to marry me if I didn’t dance well. Not the best motivational tactic in today’s light, but her intentions were good. It wasn't the dancing itself that I hated, but the obligation to attend. It was “Mandatory fun,” as someone recently put it. I didn’t mind learning the steps and was okay at that part, but I felt a little bored and my dance partners always seemed really bummed to be dancing with me. Perhaps they had also been forced to attend. To be fair to my mom, I did often leave the dances feeling relieved and I sometimes mistook that feeling for enjoyment, but if that feeling accomplished anything it was only to get my mother’s hopes up that I would soon learn to enjoy ballroom. Hopes would of course be dashed the following week when I protested my own attendance as sullenly as possible. This got tiresome for my mother and eventually she relented and I quit when the semester ended. And I never danced again……The End

No, I’m kidding, I did experiment with various breakdancing moves as most of us did in the mid 90’s and busted out a solid worm and coffee grinder at school dances. As I became a teenager I became much shyer about dancing. Perhaps it was my experience in ballroom that soured me against dance, perhaps I’d had one too many experiences feeling judged at school dances, or maybe “dance or you will be alone!” sowed some terrible seeds in my heart. Whatever the cause, I could never get comfortable feeling watched while dancing. I could not escape the feeling that someone I liked would see me dancing and, upon seeing me flail around, decide that I was fundamentally unloveable. As you might imagine, harboring this fear made it very hard to dance unselfconciously, which is really the only way to enjoy dancing. It’s an unpleasant place to get stuck into and very hard to get out of.

It is ironic that someone who makes their living using their body to make music could have felt so afraid of moving in an expressive way, but I imagine this is not an uncommon feeling. Reflecting on the number of professional musicians who I have seen dance when the opportunity presented itself, I expect there are far more non-dancers than dancers amongst my colleagues. I could speculate that part of this disconnect comes from the very thing that makes us good at what we do; knowing a specific feeling of excellence in movement. When we interface with our instruments, there is a certain lack of effort and an efficiency and self-assuredness in movement that takes decades to acquire. When we as musicians attempt to dance, having maybe not done it much, I think it’s easier for us to understand how amateurish we can still be with our bodies, and this is really uncomfortable for us. In other words, we know our dancing is uncoordinated because we know what coordination feels like. Most musicians are actually very well equipped to be dancers for this reason, but many of us also have a need to be really good at the things we do. Coming to dance late in life feels akin to picking up an instrument late in life and can be very frustrating if our mindset is too goal oriented.

After witnessing our dancers perform in front of the orchestra, I decided that I wanted to try dance. I saw what they could do and I admired it and that felt like enough to overcome the feelings of fear that I had about being seen as uncoordinated. Plus, I figured that if I did ballet, there would be rules. As a classical cellist I am used to making art under a set of rules. Sometimes I find when I have no restrictions in the art-making process that I do not even bother to begin or if I do manage to begin that I am unhappy with the result because it makes no sense without boundaries. Ballet seemed to be to be very formulaic in a sense and having attended Boston Ballet quite a few times as a child, I felt that I had some context for what I was getting myself into.

I began taking ballet classes about a month later. It was an evening class with about three to five adults at any given class. Every once in a while it would just be me and the teacher, or me, the teacher and her husband, who was one of the dancers I had seen on stage at Overture. He and I connected over dance and music and discussed doing a Jerome Robbins piece for cello and male dancer that was written for Baryshnikov. (That’s how I know the rights to Robbins choreography are expensive). I quickly felt my joints change and my muscles change and become more present and more elastic and I realized that this was something I liked. It felt like ballet class had a formula that changed just a little bit every week, so as complicated as it was to follow at the beginning, I was able to catch on quickly. I would often go right before MSO rehearsal and this is something I miss being able to do now because ballet ended up being a tonic for my body from the chronic hunchedness of playing the cello and far from my experience with ballroom, I left every ballet class feeling bright and springy and prepared for rehearsal. I did not expect that it would help my body so much, nor did I expect that it would change my sense of rhythm, but it also did that, though how it did that I can’t articulate very well. It made me understand the beat in a more confident way I guess, but that’s not exactly all of it. I left each class feeling a little more integrated and this translated directly to the sounds I could make.

Shortly after I joined the ballet class, I joined a Saturday morning modern dance class which was focused on Graham technique. Modern dance was something different entirely though some of the physical language was similar. I found it to be much more intense and to have a much more emotional affect on my body. I have often heard yoga instructors talk about how deep emotions reside in the hips. If that is indeed true, then modern dance offered me proof. I would often leave modern classes feeling really deep sorrow or sensitivity or anger or joy. The feelings were very raw and It became a little overwhelming, but I tried to look at it as a catharsis and that once the well of deep emotions had been emptied, I would be able to leave with an easy sense of well-being, but of course emotions don’t really function that way. They spring from an endless well and I did not find that the experience of having my hips stretched out in that way ever got any easier. Perhaps had I stuck with it a bit longer my body would have adjusted.

So why am I writing this post? Well, when COVID hit in 2020, my relationships with dance changed a bit. The teacher I was taking lessons with left the studio and there was a labor dispute at the studio which made it hard to want to return. I took some online classes and watched a lot of recorded classes on youtube. It wasn’t terrible, but as people started returning to classes in person my dancing gradually tapered off and was replaced with other work-related and life-related pursuits. I had always intended to return, but it took a while longer than I wanted.

I am happy to report that as of December I am back in the dance studio at a new school and enjoying the feeling very much, though my calves are killing me and I am having to work on regaining some of the flexibility I have lost since stopping dance. It seems that some of this flexibility has returned and I am hopeful that it will continue to improve. I often feel that I am stumbling around during floor work either because I either don’t know things or because I have forgotten things, but this kind of beginner mentality is a good thing for my cello teaching and feeling a little sheepish about my inability to turn the correct direction at the moment is manageable under the right teaching. The voice in my head says that it will be better next time and it’s usually right.

When I was teaching at UW Stevens Point, a school where music and dance share a building, I would tell my students there to join the intro ballet class. I became a believer in the power of ballet to teach certain things that I couldn’t teach, or at least couldn’t teach with nearly the same effectiveness: Sensation of rhythm in all parts of the body, carriage of the arms using the muscles in the back, oppositional rotation in the arms, range of motion, differentiation of sensations of muscle strain vs. stretch, postural alignment, warming up muscles effectively, communal practice, working on small incremental physical changes during practice, appreciating beauty in movement and form. These are all aspects of what I do as a musician that would be easier to learn in the context of dance. So, I was wrong when I argued to my mother that dance was not an important life skill. It turned to be very important to my enjoyment of my career and my understanding of how to teach.

I don’t think any of my UWSP students followed my advice and joined a ballet class, but if I ever decide to teach at a collegiate level again, I hope there’s a dance department that I can collaborate with to force my students into “mandatory fun” (I kid, of course)

Sold!

I’m anticipating the final sale of my old cello any day now. I have very mixed feelings about this sale. On one hand this brings some finality to a process that has gone on for nearly four years now. Having an unsold cello is difficult primarily because there is so much money tied up in something you are no longer using. It feels a little bit like buying a house in a new city and then having to wait several years to sell your old one. I suppose at the very least the old house has been paid off, but there remains a lingering lack of resolution. Instruments can’t just be sold right away unless they sound incredible or they have some historical significance or major investment potential. For the vast majority of modern instruments, none of the above apply. The right person must come along who will fall in love with the sound of your cello and furthermore will have the means to purchase it. In the consignment process you have zero contact with prospective buyers and so it becomes this nebulous, far-off idea that your cello will sell, but then one day you get an email from the shop that it is being sold and it hits you that your instrument is no longer yours.

A copy of a 1733 cello by Domenico Montagnana, made by John Terry in 2007 and purchased directly from the maker 2009

So I have been waiting for the money from this cello to do other things. Some of these things could be considered glamorous, such as commissioning a new bow for myself, but most of them are hum-drum home maintenance items, like a new roof, for example. It’s going to be nice to realize some of those goals.

The flip-side of selling this cello is that it feels like ending a relationship. Even if it left my house four years ago, it was still technically mine until it was sold by the shop in Minneapolis. There were times in between my visit with it last year and now that I considered going to pick it up, but I could never figure out what I would do with it and having it sit in a case unused would have been sad and pointless. I toyed with the idea of loaning it to students for concerts or even on a more permanent basis. I also thought it might be a good cello for certain pieces, but I find my current cello up to the challenge of any piece and so I didn’t feel it would make sense to switch back and forth, especially given the difference in size between the two. I think my reluctance to let it go is/was very normal, but my reasoning was largely emotional and in this case practicality won out. It still feels like a loss, but hopefully with time it will begin to feel like a satisfying close to a 15 year chapter in my musical life.

The experience of owning this cello is tied to so many important moments in my life and I have learned so much from owning and using it. It has travelled thousands of miles with me all over the continental US. I won my current job with that cello. I recorded Cinderland with it, music that I am still incredibly proud of. I don’t know that the music I made with that cello could have come from my current cello. In fact I know it wouldn’t have. So giving up this cello means saying goodbye to what could have come next in the music making process. So it is an emotional goodbye for me.

On a more practical level, the process of selling this cello has taught me an important lesson: Resetting a cello neck is a common thing. It turns out that for modern instruments, a neck reset is necessary after a little bit of time has passed and the neck has settled. The considerable tension of the strings pulls on the neck constantly and the neck, which is not screwed in place or held by anything other than a mortise and some hide glue, is pulled towards the front of the cello, twisted in place, or canted to one side. Wood moves around a lot and it is the hope of makers that their necks do not sink or move over time and some makers will even put carbon fiber rods inside the necks of their cellos to help slow this process, but it is inevitable that the neck will move in some fashion. So if you are a string player and you are having issues with an instrument that used to sound great, don’t give up on it. See if maybe it just needs a look at the neck by a qualified luthier/restorer. Yes, neck resets are expensive, but they are normal maintenance and they can restore your instrument to its previous glory.

So there’s a bit of a cautionary tale wrapped up in my experience. I didn’t know enough to know that some of the issues I was having with that cello were likely due to the fact that the neck was either not on properly or had just moved to a a position that was not ideal. I gave up on it before I probably should have. When I played it in the shop last year after it had had the neck reset it needed, the playing experience was very different. I no longer felt frustrated with what felt like a wild horse. It was more tame and predictable and still had that all of the personality that I loved when I originally purchased it, maybe even more so. I think it feels hard that I did not have a chance to explore the potential of that cello after the necessary work had been done.

I am told that the new owner is very excited about this cello. It is evidently going to someone in music school and it helps ease the loss that it will be in capable hands and that it may be used to further someone else’s musical ambitions the way it did mine.

Visiting My Old Cello

I thought I would give a little run-down of some of my recent musical activities since it has been quite a while since I made a blog entry. Before I get into musical things, one major athletic thing I decided to do this year was Horribly Hilly Hundreds, a local bike event in the hills to our west. I thought it would be a good challenge for my 40th birthday. The ride covered 200k and 11,000 feet of elevation over about 8 hours of riding. I was pushed to my absolute breaking point and for a variety of reasons, but mostly having to do with my heart health, I will probably never do anything like this again. Here’s my friend Jon and I after the ride attempting to eat the food that was provided to finishers. I have spent so much time on my bike since the pandemic started. I think it remains a big question what kind of riding I want to do going forward. There’s something seductive about these hard rides, but I felt incredibly burnt out mentally after it was over.

About a week after that ride, I drove up to Minneapolis where my old cello was waiting for me. It had had a neck reset, new pegs, a new endpin, a new bridge, post…etc. They told me ahead of time that it was sounding amazing, but I didn’t put too much stock in that given how subjective sound can be. I find most shops have their own specific way they like instruments to be set up and that this can make each cello in their shop sound somewhat similar. Since I’d never been to Claire Givens, I wasn’t really sure what their work would look like and what the sound concept would be, though I had heard very good things.

I wasn’t sure if being reunited with this cello would be emotional at all. I didn’t end up feeling much about it initially. Maybe I was a little tired from the drive that morning and unable to reflect on everything that cello has meant to me. I was surprised to feel so blank. When I sat with it, it felt unfamiliar and upon playing it, I was shocked by playability and the richness in the bass. Many of the issues I’d had with that cello had been resolved by the neck reset and it made me wonder what would have happened if I had gotten this done before deciding it was time to commission a new one. I suspect nothing would have changed, but we’ll never know.

The cello had a very touchy and unbalanced a-string before the work was done and after the work, the A-string was buttery and easy to play. It felt like a completely different cello in some ways. My current cello still contains my preferred sound, but there is something about the bass of that cello which I will miss. I spent about an hour playing it and then talking with various members of the staff before I tried out some of their other inventory. If I do say so myself, my old cello felt like the best one in their inventory and I am hopeful it will sell…..or am I? It is frustrating when the problems you had with an instrument seem to have been fixed and then you wonder why you made the change at all.

If it doesn’t sell by December, I have the option to take it back assuming I pay for all of the work that has been done to it, which is considerable. When I think about that possibility I am filled with a mix of joy and sadness, but also confusion because I don’t know where that instrument fits into my life. Even though many of its issues have been fixed, it is hard to imagine a good use for it. It would likely languish as an investment piece, or perhaps it would be loaned to promising students. Or maybe I would use it occasionally for repertoire that required a bit more bass. Bass is great, but I find myself much more drawn to a sound with focus, projection and warmth rather than pure breadth.

I was a little sheepish about taking photos for some odd reason I can’t recall, but here are some photos from that day, including a photo from the stands of a Minnesota United game I attended with my old bike-polo buddy Ebbin.

The Willy Street Chamber Players Season came and went very quickly this year. I’m always impressed with the programming selections that Paran makes. I enjoyed playing Faure C minor piano quartet, a piece I last played when I was a super-senior at Boston University. During that year, I was taking private lessons and fitness swimming. It left me a lot of time to play for chamber groups that were in need of a cellist and I covered a lot of important rep that year in addition to becoming connected with members of the Arneis string quartet, a group I went to Banff with in 2007. I digress. I enjoyed our concerts this year, though my experience was shortened a bit by my attendance at the ROPA conference in Atlanta, GA

I admit I have not been to Georgia before. Conferences do not allow you to really explore a whole lot, but had I been given the chance I likely would have chosen indoor activities since the heat index was well over 100 degrees. I did get a chance to walk through Olympic Park on the last day a couple of hours before I got on the plane home and while I enjoyed the scenery, I found the heat ridiculous. We will often talk about how our location in Madison feels climate-change proof, at least during our lifetimes. I would describe the heat in Atlanta as “dire.” I feel lucky to be where we are and suspect more people will move north to the great lakes region as the climate continues to be more chaotic and dangerous in other parts of the country. This was not something I considered when I moved to Madison, but it seems to have been a positive accident.

The conference was inspiring and gave me a chance to recharge my unionist batteries, though being cloistered in the hotel was a little difficult for me. I usually like to wander off on my own to recharge and that was hard at this conference. I’m looking forward to next year’s conference in the bay area where I will get to visit my cousins.

Ffter the ROPA conference I returned to Madison and then Megan and I shot off to upstate New York to celebrate our wedding with Megan’s 97 year old grandmother who lives just outside of Rochester in Irodequoit. It is always fun to go back and explore Rochester. We drove down East Ave. to see all of the mansions, grabbing tea at Java’s and then driving through my old neighborhoods. Not too much has changed since I was there thirteen years ago except for a major downtown traffic project and a few business closures. It’s strange how some places I used to go look like they have remained exactly the same, and for others, it’s like they were never there.

We got a chance to go sailing with my old cello professor, Steve Doane after which he gave us pie and ice-cream. The last time he and I tried to go sailing together was July of 2010 and not only was there no wind, but when he asked me to turn on the outboard motor, I found that it was not attached to the back of the boat properly and it jumped off the boat. It only avoided sinking to the bottom of the lake because I was holding the end of the tiller/throttle with a death grip. Incidentally, holding it in that way meant the throttle was fully open and so it was whipping around trying to get free. Steve saved me by running to the back of the boat and hitting the kill switch on the motor. With some frustration we put it on the back of the boat and moored up to call it a day. This most recent outing was absolutely perfect. Great wind, characteristic semi-cloudy upstate New York skies and the very clear water of Canandaigua Lake. Plus, Steve let me captain for a bit, which was pretty fun.

After our trip to NY, I headed up to Brainerd Minnesota to the Lakes Area Music Festival. This festival was started by fellow Eastman cellist and Doane studio alum, Scott Lykins, who I overlapped with during my time there. It has become a major destination for orchestral musicians throughout the country. If there is a place where I could go to feel my imposter syndrome most deeply, it might be this place. I was surrounded by players from major orchestras of Minnesota, Milwaukee, Baltimore, San Francisco, the Met, the list goes on. The other side of that sword of course is that playing with a bunch of people that you feel are better than you can help you realize your full potential and up your game. It was a beautiful place and the music we made was amazing. Here’s a video from that experience, though obviously it doesn’t show the rehearsals, the social time, and the lake house we got to stay in while there. It was a hard experience to be there for only a few days. I think a longer stay might have given me more time to settle in. Key in this experience was reconnection with my old stand-partner from RPO, Grace. It was very fun to see her and meet her family.

I am currently back playing the regular MSO season and looking forward to playing Tosca fairly soon. MSO has announced that they will be holding a music director search to commence asap with the new MD taking over in 2026. It is an exciting time for the orchestra on many fronts and in the mean time we have three exciting seasons ahead. Next I will be posting about our trip to Italy, and specifically Cremona, the birthplace of the violin.

Sound Preferences

I recently had the pleasure of helping a student find a nice cello for themselves and it got me thinking more about our individual sound preferences. I thought I would take some time to write about the experience of finding a new instrument and what I find interesting and surprising about the process.

When a student decides that they are going to get serious and their parents are able to invest in something special, it opens doors to entirely new sound worlds. A fine instrument can do things that a student instrument simply can’t. Student instruments these days are an amazing value and they can’t be discounted, in fact some student cellos sound better than cellos that cost five or even six figures. Still, a fine instrument usually offers much more in the way of playability, color, power, projection, and nuance.

Having now played on several different cellos for multiple years, I have come to realize that each cello teaches its user how to play. In order for the cello to teach its player, the player has to be sensitive to what the cello is saying. A student cello may not react much to variations in player input. For example the sound which emanates from it may not change quality much if the note being played is in tune or out of tune. The sound may not change if the bow angle is slightly off. The sound might not become buoyant no matter what kind of finesse one has with their bow. A fine instrument on the other hand may react to each input with great sensitivity and so the difference made by the placement of a note may be more noticeable. The angle of the bow may matter more. A player with excellent bow technique may be able to do amazing things with the sound of a fine cello. In this way a cello can teach a player a lot.

Think of a student who plays a note on their new cello and the note comes out sounding choked. Getting this feedback, they will notice they need to develop new techniques for communicating with the instrument. A good cello is giving feedback constantly and it will help a sensitive student find a quick resolution to any issues they encounter. So there’s a way in which we can view the relationship between player and instrument as a constant communication and feedback loop. This relationship is most successful when both parties are sensitive to the needs of the other. Of course, you may be asking yourself, how can an object such as a cello be sensitive. Well, the answer to that is that a good cello IS sensitive to whatever input it receives. Its boundaries are more expansive, its tonal possibilities are broader. It can do more of what you as a player might be able to imagine. So getting a better instrument expands your range of communication simply because it teaches you things you didn’t think were necessarily possible. The cello does not literally talk to you, but it does speak to you in the sense that it is reacting to every part of you. The sound that comes out can be affected by something as remote as the movement of your big toe. So a great cello is organizing in the sense that it is so sensitive to you as a player that it allows you to understand how the various parts of you are influencing the sounds you are creating.

The major element that is required for this feedback loop to work is the presence of some sort of sound preference or standard. There has to be an ideal sound in the student’s mind and a new instrument can change their sense of possibility around sound. As I stated in the opening paragraph, I’ve been thinking about sound preferences so I’m going to change direction slightly here……

Last year a friend of mine was looking for a new violin and had some new instruments by well-reputed modern makers. I was invited to hear them played along with two other violinists. All players were professionals and I was somewhat surprised to find that my concept of what was a good violin sound was opposite to the feelings of the other three players. What was I listening for that they weren’t? What were they hearing that I wasn’t? Were we listening for different things or were we physically hearing things differently? I ended up going for a violin that was incidentally made by a luthier who makes a lot of cellos. Perhaps his instrument was influenced by a desire for more bass in the sound. Maybe that’s what I was responding to. The violinists all seemed to enjoy the more brilliant violins on trial, which I guess is what makes them violinists. If they were striving for a violin that sounded more like a cello, they might have switched to cello at a young age or possibly just given up. There are those who stick with instruments they don’t like as much, but that seems to be rare.

Sound preferences seem to be innate for most of us. When I was in third grade, our music teacher played recordings of all of the orchestral instruments for us and then we had a chance to decide which one we wanted to play that year. I already played piano, but I was tIckled by the idea of getting my hands on another instrument and so when it came time to choose I ended up selecting cello and french horn. If you had to describe these two instruments, I think you might use similar adjectives. Mellow, sonorous, soulful. The range is similar, the sense of connection between the notes is smooth. There is nothing shrill, staccato or brilliant about the cello or horn relative to most other orchestral instruments. They are in the same sound world and I look back on that story and feel happy that I knew what I wanted, even if it was a little general at the time. My parents did make me pick between the two instruments and I chose the cello.

Other musicians have described feeling an affinity for the kind of sound their instrument makes from a very young age. Who knows why this happens. I do have a crackpot theory about the human voice being a subconscious guide in this regard. I have long felt that A-flat major is my favorite key to play in. I never knew why until I spoke into a tuning app which tracks intonation in a graph over time. According to the tuner, I speak at the pitch A-flat most of the time. Of course you could say this is just proof that I like the sound of my own voice. I think there’s more to it than that. I think we all respond to resonance in different ways. Maybe our skeletons are just tuned to a certain frequency and when that frequency is excited, we literally feel it in our bones. A singer I know once told me that they had good bone structure for singing and that’s what made them so good at projecting. I’m unfamiliar with the theory behind that idea, but the body does receive vibration and create vibration constantly and it only makes sense that your bones would play a part in the distribution of sound. Maybe it’s just about exposure to the sounds at an early age. My dad’s voice is very similar to mine. Maybe I grew up hearing him speak in A-flat too and I developed a taste for that sound. My mom’s voice was sort of mellow and smooth like the cello.

If there is any way that these preferences find their way into our bones at an early age it could just be from listening to the voices around us. Or I guess if your family has music playing, that’s a more obvious way to receive that kind of influence. I guess this question is in the same vein as the nature vs. nurture question. It doesn’t really matter which is right because the present truth remains the same. I suppose the only way it would matter is if you thought you could nurture your child to stay away from the flute by constantly playing cello music in the house. That’s just an example. I’m certianly not saying one is better than the other.

A Change of Market

A few weeks ago my John Terry cello, the instrument I played on from 2009-2020, arrived at Claire Givens Violins in Minneapolis. I had original consigned it to be sold at a shop in Boston, but the market there is highly competitive and after nearly two years on the floor without significant interest, a change of place seemed to be a good idea.

Selling a cello is something I have done through consignment before and it takes time in the best market, so with the depression in the demand due to covid and the glut of amazing cellos for sale, it has not been surprising that it hasn’t yet sold. My previous cello took nearly three years to sell, for example, and that was in a rebounding market after the recession of 2008.

A complicating factor in having my cello consigned where it was in Boston was that they had another cello by the same maker consigned just a few weeks before mine, which meant that the pricing of my cello was tied to the pricing of the other. If I had wanted to reduce the price, it may have confused the market to see two Terry cellos with differing prices even though the cellos themselves were very different in material, model and sound and differed in age by about 25 years.

And so I made the decision to contact Claire Givens Violins in Minneapolis to see if they would accept my John Terry cello into their inventory. They were aware of John Terry and spoke favorably about his work, thinking it may be a good fit for the shop. John Terry was an English maker, who was living in Florence, Italy. He attended violin making school in Cremona, as did Michele Ashley, the maker of my current cello. Andrew Dipper, who does restoration at Claire Givens was an instructor in Cremona many years ago and perhaps they even crossed paths with eachother. One rather odd connection to Madison is that Ralph Rabin, my friend and a(the) local Madison instrument dealer, rented out John Terry’s Cremona apartment after he left the city. Ralph was also friends with Michele while in Cremona. Lot’s of connections…In any case, John Terry’s cellos are very well regarded apparently and I think Claire had some prior experience with trying to acquire one of his instruments before his death from brain cancer in 2010.

Unfortunately, my cello arrived in Minneapolis with a loose neck, meaning it may have taken a bump during shipping. Additionally, the neck reset that I thought was done in Boston turns out not to have been done. Instead the shop decided that replacing the fingerboard and cutting a higher bridge was a safer option for dealing with the low projection. I was quite annoyed when I heard from Claire Givens that the reset had never been completed. Furthermore a neck reset is still necessary to fix the projection issue in their opinion. It felt like a big setback since a neck reset is what was originally planned for the cello when I first consigned it in 2020. I imagined that it was sitting on the floor in subpar condition for two years. I get that some complicated decisions had to be made about what was best for the cello, but I needed to be consulted, and I wasn’t.

So the cello will be having major surgery with the neck reset and then the pegs will be replaced, a new endpin installed, a new bridge cut, and a new sound post installed. After that, it will need an adjustment and hopefully it will be played in a fair bit so that it’s ready to vibrate for whoever might come into the shop in search of cello.

I still have not seen the Terry cello since I shipped it to Boston in late 2020. I will likely take a day trip up to Minneapolis to play it a bit and give my thoughts on the setup when the time comes. I’m looking forward to that day.

The Union is not a Free Sandwich

This is a post that I put on Facebook that I thought would live well on this Blog. It’s about how we can all get better sandwiches together

Big thanks to Madison Area Musicians' Association - AFM Local 166 - Madison, WI for providing lunch for the Musicians of the Madison Symphony during our Fall Youth Concerts today

This lunch was funded by dues that each member of our Local has been paying as part of their commitment to mutual success. So, thank your fellow Association members for investing in your sustenance today. I found the cookies to be particularly nice this year.

I was thinking to myself during our lunch, that the ability to organize sandwiches during break is a symbol of the various things that union membership offers. Before I joined the players committee, I really had no clue how an orchestra works, much less how our Union functions.

The Union to me represents "support." Some of the support is purely within the orchestra in the form of the Players' Committee. Did you know that the players committee is in the contract? Much more of the support we have is through the Local, ROPA and the AFM.

The support we receive is paid for by membership dues, as were the sandwiches. So for those who might not be association members yet, you might be asking yourself what it might mean to become a member of Local 166.

Being a member of Local 166 means:

-Investing in the outcome of all contract negotiations by paying for the help of our highly experienced professional AFM negotiator. ( I literally cannot express just how important Jane Owen's help has been. This in and of itself is a reason to join)

-Access to a network of Local 166 expertise (Local Officers) and experience as well as the support of the American Federation of Musicians Symphonic Services Division who have been extremely helpful to us during my time on the committee.

-Education for Orchestra Committee members through the Regional Orchestra Players Association (ROPA) and the AFM through various training modules. (Check the AFM website for these if you want to learn more about it)

-Having a personal and collective say in the direction of your organization by having the ability to vote on contracts and other AFM agreements with the management such as the IMA (Which our management agreed to sign on to this year)

-It means having a committee to act as a liaison between you and your management so that when you have an issue that can't be resolved, you have the committeee, the Local, the AFM and your fellow Union members standing behind you.

-It means understanding that our collective power gets all of us farther than we could get on our own and choosing to participate in that idea; Choosing to buy into that idea, quite literally. Remember, the money we pay in dues is money we pay to ourselves.

Being a Union member is a commitment to your colleagues and your ensemble. It's a commitment that works best when everyone buys in, because then the sandwiches are cheaper

Let us never take for granted the ability to buy metaphorical sandwiches for ourselves

RIP Rosamunde

It’s been quite a while since my last post. The summer came and went quickly. Some highlights include the Willy Street Chamber Players season, my attendance at the ROPA conference as noted in the previous post, a trip out to California to attend my cousin’s retirement from the US Army and to spend time with my aunt who I had not seen in four years, my participation in the final season of the Token Creek festival, and a number of home projects that finally came to fruition.

The summer was sadly capped off by the death of our beloved dog Rosie in the early morning on September 20th, the last day of summer. She had been dealing with cancer for nearly two years and while there were some tough times, she dealt with everything like a champ and seemed on the whole to enjoy her life fully up to the very end. She died peacefully in her sleep with me, Pike and Megan all close by.

I adopted Rosie at the end of 2017, just after I bought my first house in Madison. I was spending a lot of time away from home and Pike was in need of some companionship that I felt, as a human, I could not provide for him. My dog hikers knew I was looking for a dog that would be a good fit for Pike and they found Rosie, who Pike had chosen to sit next to in the van on the way to and from hikes. Pike’s admiration for her was a strong signal to me that there was something special about her. She came home to us the day before Christmas that year.

I have countless stories to tell about Rosie. She was the boss lady. She was indestructible. She was independent, assertive, gentle, radiant, goofy, stubborn, loud, affectionate and loving. Her presence is deeply missed and an adjustment that will take quite a bit of time for all of us.

I debated whether or not to include her in my teaching at the new house, but I decided to do so as of the end of last year. My decision was based on a few things.

First, Rosie absolutely loved people. I had to stop taking her to the dog park because she would run away almost immediately and I would find her hanging out with another person or people on the far end of the park, simultaneously charming them and annoying them with her bids for physical affection. Instructions for loving Roser included “keep one moving hand on the dog at all times.” This was a nuisance for some, but I really enjoyed her bids for attention. It was always fun having people over because she got so excited. I wanted her to have contact with people and being a studio dog made that possible on a day to day basis.

Second, having a dog like Rosie present for lessons immediately sets a certain kind of mood. She was always light-hearted and enthusiastic and loving and after the initial greeting, I would have to tell her to “go away” which didn’t really mean go away literally, it was the only phrase I could use to detach her from either me or my student so that the lesson could begin. At that point she would lay down in the room and just be present. I want my lessons to be light-hearted, enthusiastic and present and Rosie made that easier for me to accomplish and I think I tend to default to a more serious kind of instruction without her. I figured having her there would benefit my students, Rosie and myself.

Of course because of her size I made sure that she was only present with students who outweighed her and I made sure to get consent from students before introducing her. My one concern was, knowing about her health problems that my students might become attached to her and I didn’t want to force any of them to go through the inevitable loss with me. However, I think grieving the death of a pet is something we accept when we decide to love that pet. There are so many things in life that are not permanent and learning how to let go and to confront loss and process loss in a healthy way is a skill that every human will need at some point.

After she died I took a little bit of time off from teaching and when my students returned, we had a chance to talk about Rosie and process a little bit of that feeling together. I realized that the side benefit of having her in lessons was that my grief about her death has been shared by more people who loved her and therefore feels more held. It feels easier to process this loss in a sense knowing that Rosie was appreciated by my students and their families.

Not too much else to share this time. MSO just ratified our new contract, which is something I’ve been working towards for the past three years. Of course that is not a normal amount of time to be working on a contract negotiation, but COVID happened right before we were set to negotiate this contract.

My new cello is still a joy to play. It is far more sensitive to weather and seasonal changes than I expected. I had a post adjustment a couple of days ago to loosen the soundpost a bit. I’d had it tightened in the summer to up the power a bit, but when the temps got cold last week, the cello must have contracted and made the post even tighter. This sensitivity is something that I think goes hand in hand with the expressivity of this cello. A sensitive instrument means an instrument that can respond to the various changes in my own playing and therefore can teach me about my ears, my body, my internal state to some extent. An instrument that does not respond to change may mean fewer trips to the luthier to have seams glued and posts adjusted, but it also means that it may not really be able to fully enmesh with the player.

That’s all for now

A Pre-Summer Breakdown

I’m taking this week off from teaching to spend some time gearing up for the month of July which is always a busy one. Willy Street Chamber Players will be returning to indoor concerts after two summers of playing outdoors. As an acoustic musician, this is welcome news since our instruments don’t achieve their full sound without the reverb an enclosed space can provide.

This year has been a lot about returning to some sense of normalcy in the concert hall. MSO started out this year with a strings only concert after the city passed an ordinance which unintentionally banned the use of wind instruments indoors. After some lobbying by various local groups, that restriction was lifted and we managed to put on our second concert with the full compliment of musicians, however do to the distancing requirements that our players’ committee and management had mutually agreed upon, we were unable use our risers for the winds and the orchestra was far more spread out than usual. Bit by bit, over the past year, the restrictions have been lessening and we have even gotten to a place now where vaccinated string players may, with proof of a negative PCR test, go unmasked in rehearsal and performance. I personally have not done so yet, but I look forward to some day removing my mask for performance.

As the vice-chair of our players committee, I have been a large part of the discussion surrounding how we can keep our membership safe and what is an appropriate amount of risk/reward when it comes to the question of covid safety protocols. It is my hope that our somewhat more stringent protocols helped us avoid transmissions within the orchestra and kept us working.

It has been very interesting to be not just a member of this orchestra but to also understand how the orchestra functions as a whole, from attending board meetings to preparing for collective bargaining, participating in search committees, to communicating with various members of the orchestra about their concerns. Being on the players’ committee has given me a broader commitment to the ensemble and while I do not get paid for being a member of the players committee, I am the recipient of valuable institutional knowledge. Furthermore, this position, maybe more than any job I have worked, has taught me about my own capacities as a human. I am grateful to have held this position for the past three years and look forward to continuing in this position.

At the end of July, I will be missing the final week of our WIlly Street Chamber Players season in order to attend the ROPA Conference (Regional Orchestra Players’ Association). Each ROPA member orchestra sends one delegate to the conference where we will…..confer. To be honest, I am not totally sure what to expect, though I understand this is a big professional development opportunity and will give me a chance to understand my orchestra in a national context.

Regional orchestra delegates from around the country converge and discuss the status of their orchestras, current issues, negotiating…etc. I will be arriving a little bit earlier than some in order to take part in the negotiating workshop which I’m particularly interested in. I would have missed the last negotiation which was set to take place in March of 2020 while we were in Taiwan visiting my cousin Luke. At that time I was unsure if I could be of any real help in the process, so I didn’t lament having to miss it. In fact, I felt scared that my presence may somehow irritate our management and therefore lead to a poor contractual outcome, which sounds very silly to me now.

Going into this summer, we have an exciting new executive director who I believe will be able to hear the dreams, desires, concerns and vision that we have to bring to the negotiations. Madison is in very good financial shape and what that means is that there is a lot of room to maneuver the ship. I think this orchestra can do more and can be more to this community and that is exciting to us.

At the end of August into September I will be playing the final season of Token Creek at John and Rose Mary Harbison’s Cabin just north of me off of Stoughton Road. I was lucky to play a concert there last summer which heavily featured cello and gave me an opportunity to play Vivaldi Double Concerto with my MSO stand partner and principal cello, Karl Lavine. Scott Morgan and I also spent a week there in 2019 playing the steinway and the wind chimes which we found dangling from various snow-covered trees. It’s a beautiful spot and it will be sad to see this festival go, but I’m honored to be returning this year.

In other news, I am approaching both my birthday and the six-month anniversary of the retrieval of my new cello from Boston. Both are June 26th, incidentally. The cello sounds wonderful and while Michele had offered to make me another if I was not satisfied, it is not going to come to that. Everyday I look at it and play it and think to myself how lucky I am to have found Michele and how lucky I am to be able to play on such a high quality cello. I also think finding this instrument is a testament to following ones gut. I only played this model for a short time in 2007 and yet my memory of it was so powerful that when it came time to find a new cello for myself, this was where my gut wanted to go. Many have commented that this was a risky commission perhaps not understanding that Michele let me know that if I was displeased she would make me another one. I think there were certainly times when this felt risky before I received the cello and there were some moments this winter when seams were open or when the sound post was off kilter that I felt disappointed in the sound and before I knew what was wrong, I doubted myself, but at this point after playing dozens of concerts with it, I feel vindicated in thinking that this cello was exactly what I remembered it was and that the connection I felt with it in 2007 was not a rosy memory, but in fact a profound experience that stayed with me for nearly fifteen years until I played this one for the first time on December 26th.

More String Obsession

I’ve finally settled on a string set. After contacting Pirastro for help, they recommended and sent me a promo combination of their Perpetual string line. I never would have thought of this combo since it combines three different version of Perpetuals, but it worked perfectly the moment they were installed. For those who are curious, the combo is thus:

Perpetual Solo A Medium

Perpetual Edition D Medium

Perpetual Edition G Medium

Perpetual Edition C Strong

The fact that the string length on my cello is so short means that a higher tension string will actually work just fine on this cello and the actual tension that it takes to bring it up to pitch will be lower than the average cello due to the short string length. I had been operating under the thought process that lower tension would be better for the cello and also better for the sound, and of course it’s probably true that for a bigger cello, lower tension might be a good idea. The set I have on now is by no means the highest tension set one could find, but the C string in particular is the highest tension C string I have found available, so it’s funny to me that I ended up going the opposite direction in some sense. This is not to say that the cello sounded bad with any of the previous string sets, but this one has the sound I was after, so it’s relief to have settled on something.

I had been struggling a bit over the past month or so to find the sound that the cello had when I first played it in Waltham. It’s kind of confusing when you start to feel dissatisfied with the sound and you can’t pinpoint any particular physical reason for the change. It made me question whether or not I was hearing things properly. Since the last post I’ve had two more open seams that have been glued up and I chalked most of my dissatisfaction up to those seams being open and just not knowing that they were, but I also spent a lot of time experimenting with different endpins and thinking about tailpieces and all the other fittings that affect sound. Last week I looked inside the cello and noticed the soundpost was tilted over very slightly and so I texted my luthier about it.

David and I had been planning to do a bunch of things to the cello this week to optimize the setup. I think this aggressive plan was just a response to my dissatisfaction with the sound and what we discovered was that the main cause of the sound issues was a sound post that had moved so much that it actually damaged itself. Not only did it lean over slightly, but it rotated about 45 degrees and all that pressure split the post very slightly on the edge. David made a new post and put everything back together with one other change.

I decided to scrap most of the other setup adjustments and equipment additions to the cello partly to eliminate variables and to pinpoint how a new post would affect the sound with everything else remaining the same. The one thing that I did decide to move forward with was the installation of Wittner Fine-Tune pegs. This was a decision that came about partly based on my experience with a loaner that I played last year that had geared pegs and I found it so much easier to tune. For those who don’t know, the Wittner pegs look exactly like a wood peg, but they have internal gearing (as seen below) with a ratio of 8:1 meaning that for every 8 rotations of the peg end, the spindle on which the string turns rotates once. This means that all fine-tuning can be done from the pegs without fear of slipping and without physical effort. I can now play and tune myself at the same time, which is not something cellists do very easily if at all. It also means that the instrument is going to remain much more stable with no chance of pegs randomly slipping due to weather/temperature changes. This will benefit the instrument and keep it safe from things like say, a sound post getting knocked out of position. Additionally, the after-length, the area between the bridge and the fine tuners, and a length which informs the kind of resonance the cello has, can also remain unchanged which means the instrument will be more predictable for me as a player and therefore easier to play. In the absence of finetune pegs, one will usually be adjusting the fine tuners on the tailpiece to tune the instrument and this will change the after length and therefore resonance of the instrument whereas adjusting from the pegbox does not.

Wittner Fine-Tune Peg

I have to say that I was quite nervous about installing something so high-tech and frankly plastic onto my cello since I generally prefer the aesthetic of wood, but I think it looks okay and more than that I think it will be functional. It is worth noting that this is not the only modern material or high-tech item on the cello. The Titanium endpin for example is something that requires modern tools to make and looks like it belongs on a parts shelf at Boeing. The strings are probably the most insane modern product and these ones seem to even use a varied thickness winding which I’ve never seen before. Pirastro said they had to completely retool in order to produce the Perpetual line, so there’s a little bit of hypocrisy in keeping the wood pegs for the purity of the instrument. Here’s a video from Austrian String Manufacturer Thomastik which shows some of the process behind modern string manufacturing.

I’m still not quite used to the Wittner pegs, but it has been less than 24 hours since I picked it up from the shop, so I couldn’t really be expected to, however I enjoyed using them for the first time yesterday and the cello sounds unreal now. Maybe it sounds better than it ever has. Now that my string search is over and the pegs are stabilized, I think this cello is going to enter a phase of stability and that will be good for it and will give me a really good sense of how the sound is developing without the chaos of environmental changes and excessive movement from tuning, travel, changing strings etc.

Lastly, with the warm spell we had this week, it became obvious just how much this cello likes warmer weather. Even with a messed up post, it sounded immediately better when the temperature rose above 50 degrees F. Not so with the old cello, which seemed not to move around much at all. I’m looking forward to spring

String Obsession

This post is a follow-up to my previous posting about cello strings. I did not expect myself to go down such a deep rabbit hole here, though perhaps this displays a lack of self-knowledge. Anyone who has spent enough time around me knows how much I like tools, equipment and optimizing things. So in a sense the obsessive experience I had with string selection this past week should not have been as much of a surprise to me as it was.

I played a concert with the Wisconsin Chamber Orchestra at the end of the month and then promptly changed all of my strings over to the Pirastro Obligato set that I mentioned in my last posting. I wrote down my initial thoughts on the strings so as to keep track of their development. I wrote the following:

-A String rings nicely

-D String feels a bit stiff and closed initially

-G has response issues

-C Sounds and plays well but is unremarkable.

This wasn't a particularly sunny first run, however given that Obligatos are a synthetic string, I was expecting a break-in period of some kind and decided to stick with them for a week or two before decided yes or no. The cello did seem to breathe much more easily and I began to hear very alluring overtones that weren’t really there with the higher tension strings, so it wasn’t a complete bust right off the bat. There was hope.

The strings needed a lot of tuning for the first week because the synthetic core stretches so much more than a conventional steel core, meaning in order to achieve the same increase in frequency, it seems peg is turned three times as much. Additionally this means the fine tuners aren’t really useful since they bottom out so quickly. So I did a lot of peg tuning and it made me think about installing some geared pegs in the future.

A week later I felt as though the D string had not opened up and that it was difficult to know where to put my fingers, The A-string still sounded amazing, as always, and the G and C were starting to mellow out and become more predictable. I decided to change my D-string to what I thought was a lower tension Larsen String. The upper two strings were now steel core and the lower two synthetic and this sounded good, though in some ways sounded like two different instruments. I was satisfied with the change for the time being and decided I would use this at my MSO rehearsal this past Monday. I was immediately dissatisfied with the sound on the stage. I felt like I couldn’t hear my lower strings at all and blamed this on the low tension. The next day I began a serious and unfruitful deep-dive into various string combinations, some of which I had already tried, but having not taken any notes on them, I only remembered small impressions. I tried the Magnacores on the bottom first and they were fine for a short while. I then proceeded to cycle through every string in my Arsenal until I ended up with Spirocore and Versum Solos. I used these the following evening for a rehearsal with Madison Opera and they didn’t feel right to me on the stage with a smaller ensemble. It was like I could hear myself too well this time and couldn’t relax in to the blend.

The next day I went back to my obsessive string combination and tried to reset my orientation to the strings I’d been using vs what was on there before and decide what sound I was looking for exactly. Then I read an article which essentially derailed the whole experiment I had set for myself which was to try to figure out is a lower tension string would create a better sound. This particular article found on the Strad online here, made it clear that the tensions indicated by different manufacturers may be based on different string lengths, which essentially means that mixing and matching strings from different brands may make your tension calculations inaccurate.

This seems to be a thing about instruments. As with any thing you may be in relationship or process with, there is no formula that will help you arrive at the right conclusion, partly because of the unique character of the item or person, but also partly because there is no conclusion. There are so many differing thoughts about how to string an instrument and there is engineering behind the manufacture of strings, however it comes down to the listener to make an aesthetic choice. There will only ever be anecdotal and specific evidence as it relates to one instrument. Every little fitting may affect the sound in some way, and there are some rules to follow, but no one seems to know what the outcome will be for any specific cello. In other words, there is no predictability. The only solution is experimentation, application and process. This is frustrating for the scientist in me, but it is liberating for the artist because it means the playground is always open…..

Which is all to say that I decided to give all of my strings to Megan for safe keeping so that I don’t decide to change them again. I put the Obligatos back on and I think they sound great at home. They weren’t fully broken in yet anyhow and now they will be. No one can really hear the cello section in Overture hall anyway, so my projecting or not isn’t really something that needs to be accounted for. I will produce plenty of sound for the Opera and I think this setup will be ideally suited for chamber music in the future. An added bonus to this low-tension setup is that it will be kinder to the instrument. (Not changing strings everyday will also be kind) Lastly, I am excited by the possibility that the A String on this cello is so good, that I may be able to use a gut A string going forward, but that’s an experiment for another month.

Breaking it in

So it has been nearly a month now with the new cello. I have not come up with a name yet. I’m not sure that I ever will, although it feels a little empty to just call it “the new cello.” Perhaps “MY cello” is more satisfying. We will see where the journey of naming takes me this time.

It has been a very interesting few weeks with the cello. I have had a couple of seams open up on me and my Luthier helped me to promptly get them glued up in both cases. For those who are unaware, musical instruments are glued together using a somewhat weak glue known as hide-glue. It is weak so that when the wood inevitably changes shape seasonally or just due to age, the pressure created can be released at the seams and not on the body of the instrument itself, thus avoiding costly and damaging cracks. When I worked at Johnson String, we would sometimes see customers who had attempted a home repair on their violin with elmers glue or wood glue. In woodworking class at UW, I learned that wood glue creates a stronger joint than the wood it is joining. So if the seams of an instrument are bonded permanently with wood glue, it’s only a matter of time before the pressure of movement, having no seam to release into, cracks the body of the instrument. In other words, never attempt a home repair on your instrument. Standard woodworking knowledge will not translate in most cases

Seam-opening is a normal thing for new instruments. As my local luthier put it, the wood is still getting used to being in the shape of a cello and so that coupled with the dryness of the air will make opening seams inevitable for now. This week Michele told me the red spruce top is from the Val di Fiemme in Northern Italy and the maple back and ribs are from Bosnia (or I guess the former Yugoslavia technically) The wood for this cello is 30 years old and has been drying slowly during that time, but even though this time has allowed it to stabilize, it will still continue to move. Having a seam open is a nice excuse to talk shop with my luthier.

The most recent thing we’ve been discussing is string tension. In anticipation of the new cello, I bought several sets of strings while they were on sale. I didn’t really know what would go well with this cello, I just bought the sets that I have used in the past. They are:

-Larsen Magnacore G/C with Magnacore Arioso A/D (I used these for the last three years with my old cello)

-Spirocore G/C Tungsten with Versum Solo A/D (A recommended and once used combo)

-Larsen Il Cannone Focused, Full Set

Jargar Superior A/D Forte

I ended up making myself a string-tension chart to try and figure out if there was any sort of pattern as I changed my strings around. The first set I felt worked well were the Spirocore and the Versum Solo. I liked the roundedness of the Versum and the warmth of the Spirocore, especially in the orchestra. It felt like they had power, but they also blended well. I soon got curious about the other sets and began mixing and matching things. I first replaced the A string with a Jargar Superior Forte and like that alright. Then I experimented with the Magnacores. The Magnacores were very ringy in my home studio, but almost shrill on the stage at overture. It was uncomfortable to lean on them the way I might have liked even if the sound was huge. I have always tended towards a darker sound and so these strings were too bright, but on top of that the response seemed poor. These are the highest tension strings in the set I had and so this was an interesting thing to note. I started to work my way down string by string and eventually ended up with a set that was on the lower end of the tension possibilities. It is truly the most random hodgepodge of strings I’ve ever seen on a cello

Jargar Superior A, Il Cannone D, Spirocore G, Il Cannone C

Somehow this is a very even, clear and powerful set of strings, but my plan is to take this experiment farther. I’ve ordered some Pirastro Obligato Strings to that end. Obligatos are a synthetic core string and they are fundamentally different from the strings listed above which have cores made from steel. Synthetic cores are made from nylon or something of the like and wound with metal. I used them in college for a while when I was experimenting with gut strings and other non-traditional string sets and I loved the warmth of Obligatos, though they did not carry super well on the cello I was playing at the time. That cello had a willow back and was a model with a less projecting sound than Michele’s Guadagnini model. The downside synthetic strings is that they take time to break in and during that time they do not hold pitch very well, so there’s a lot of tuning that has to go on and they do not sound their best until played for many hours. The Obligatos are a lower tension string and so I’m trying to see if lowering the tension even more will have the desired effect of bringing out even more of the quality in this cello.

My luthier and I discussed the fact that so many of the strings that are marketed to cellists are super high-tension strings which are useful for soloists who need power and projection, but maybe not necessary for orchestral players or chamber musicians whose primary goals may be sound quality, dynamic range and the ability to blend. A high-tension string may actually strangle the sound of a cello that otherwise would be very open.

Over all my break-in of this cello is going beautifully. It needs so little bow pressure to make sound. It’s the first instrument I’ve owned that doesn’t need to be pushed and in fact resists being pushed. It constantly reminds me not to try too hard. When I do, the sound closes up. When I release and open myself, the sound opens. I feel like I can never run out of bow because it doesn’t require much to achieve its maximum sound. When I am not playing it, I’m admiring it for its objective beauty. How lucky that I have rehearsals for the next three weeks and this cello is going to bathe in the sound of not only its own vibrations, but the vibrations of the entire orchestra. More updates to come soon.

The Arrival

We drove to Massachusetts last week. I haven’t done a drive like this since I drove out to Wyoming in 2016 for my residency at Brush Creek. Driving East is sort of a dull drive, especially through Indiana and Ohio, but once we got into upstate New York, things began to feel a bit more like home. If we had not been going to pick up my new cello, we would likely not have gone given the state of covid. Before we left we both took PCR tests and I rapid tested three times during my absence to make sure I wasn’t spreading anything around to our relatives. We had to abandon some visits and cancel some plans as a result of the virus and I did not enjoy the interstate rest stops nearly as much as I used to, but we made it, and on December 26th, we went to Michele’s beautiful loft in Waltham and I saw my new cello in person for the first time.

I was having nervous dreams about that moment with increasing frequency for about a month leading up to that moment. I knew it was done and that it was ready for me, but was unsure what it would sound like or look like. Seeing it sitting in it’s cello cradle for the first time, I loved the look. As I write this in my basement studio back in Madison, it is sitting next to me and I am enjoying looking at it as I write this. The photos below were taken hastily with my iPhone. I will add some more well-lit, true-to proportion photos when I can.

Of course, the look is one thing, but a very handsome instrument isn’t necessarily a great sounding instrument, and I was anxious to play it. We caught up briefly with Michele and she set up a chair for me. I got my bow out of my bow case and sat down to play. As I played the open strings for the first time, I felt relief wash over me. The sound and feel was what I had imagined and I felt validation for my choice.

The last time I had played this model of Michele’s was 2007 and I was betting on a very strong memory that I had of that experience. I knew at the time that this was the sound and feel I wanted, however that cello was not for sale. Thirteen years later, I made a bet on that somewhat brief experience. It was a difficult bet to trust given the fallibility of memory and the immense musical distance I had traveled in the space between 2007 and today. I found it difficult to fully trust that the original feeling I had would lead me to where I wanted to be, but when I played the cello for the first time, I felt confirmed that trusting my gut had paid off.

My plan for the next two weeks is just to have fun playing my favorite pieces on it so that it can get used to the music I like. It seems ready-made for the music of Robert Schumann and I introduced it to some Haydn today, which it also seemed to love. It is already teaching me new things about music I have played thousands of times, and that is exciting.

Getting my cello is not an end, it’s a new beginning. I am thrilled with the starting point of this cello, but this is the beginning of a relationship and I will need to spend time getting to know this cello. The cello will also be getting to know me, as odd as that may sound. Every note I play on this instrument will leave some kind of imprint on it, however small that imprint might be. Having “broken-in” a number of instruments this year, I feel like I understand how to do it. I didn't even realize this was a skill that could be attained and I am still a novice at it, but certainly I have more experience than most.

I realize as I type this that the term, “breaking-in,” as it applies to new cellos is wrong. “Breaking-in” conjures images of a fastball hitting a catcher’s mitt or a horse being tamed, or my bike being stolen from my utility shed. What I want to do with a new instrument is find what’s inside. It’s a process that involves “opening-up” rather than “breaking-in.” “Opening-up” is like a flower, or the sky when it rains, or a feeling shared with a friend. A new sound must be given, not taken. Playing a new instrument is organic, it requires one to relate to something that is seemingly inanimate. In this sense it may sound like a magical process, and it is in some ways, but it does tangibly change when it is played, and I think how it changes depends partly on how it is played. (Maybe that’s a magical thought too, but if it is, it helps me listen more clearly and so it’s a functional magical thought.)

I want to thank everyone who donated to help make this dream a reality. It means a lot that you all chose to invest in my career, my art, and my fulfillment in both. I will be preparing a donors’ concert for the summer which I will stream for non-locals to attend. It is my hope to play this cello for everyone who had a hand in its creation.

The Pickup is Scheduled

I will be picking up the cello in Waltham, MA on December 26th. We’ll be visiting my dad and Megan’s family along the route and trying our best not to carry this bastard of a virus along with us. We’re well stocked up on rapid-tests and we just took PCR tests in anticipation of leaving on Wednesday, so at least we will be doing our best to know if we are carrying anything. We decided to drive instead of flying and I am not looking forward to the interstate much, but there is also something alluring about a road trip and it gives me a chance to bring my bike and sneak in some extra mileage before the year is over. If any readers are on Zwift and want to go for a digital bike ride with me some time, let me know.

Commissioning an instrument from Michele is an idea I have toyed with since 2009 when I was at Eastman and I nearly bought one of her Gofriller model cellos. As has been explored in some earlier posts, I ended up with something different. I never forgot about Michele’s cellos, but life kept getting in the way of making the commission I wanted to make.

In a sense attempting to purchase a new cello during a pandemic was a risky venture given that in the early days it was not clear when we would return to concerts. It’s hard to believe now that I spent an entire year teaching on Zoom since almost all of my students now come to my house for lessons. How amazing that we have a vaccine available. When I commissioned the cello in November of 2020, I was not yet vaccinated. It wasn’t even clear to me if a vaccine would be available. In retrospect, this might’ve been an odd time to pull the trigger, but I spent so much time sitting with my instrument over the past two years and if the pandemic has elicited any kind of response from me, it has been a whittling-away of my desire to procrastinate. Life is too short not to go after the things that you want. I wanted and needed a new cello and I happened to know which one I wanted, so here we are. I feel pretty good about this success. There are many unknowns still, but if I had procrastinated, unknowns would still exist and I would be older, with regret.

It feels a little surreal that this project has reached this stage. I have said in earlier posts how lucky I have been to play on several amazing and different cellos this year from a William Whedbee with a one-piece maple back to a powerful David Folland cello which is now in the hands of a former student, to a German Shop cello which turned out to be much more of a match than I expected, to a gorgeous copy of the 1726 ‘Comte de Saveuse’ Stradivari made by my friend Alejandro Puig. I have been spoiled and blessed and all of this cello dating has led me to my self-selected arranged marriage with my Ashley cello.

Well, there will be so much more to share and to say about this. I’m not sure how Omicron will develop here and if I will be able to play concerts in the new year with it. I assume I will, but I don’t take it for granted. Whatever the professional outlook, playing it and listening to it develop will give me great pleasure. Thank you to everyone who has donated. I could not have done this without you.

The Interim Celli and the Time I Almost Make a Huge Mistake

I have decided to remove the fundraising bar for my page and that I will be converting this page into a blog page for future posts. Thank you so much to everyone who has donated so far. You will be hearing from me some time in the spring so I can play for you all in some fashion. The help I have received means so much to me. You can still donate if you want to by clicking the button above, but at $8,185 raised, I am calling this goal achieved. Thank you!

The cello is likely to arrive in Madison in January and I am so excited to see it, to play it and to hear it played for me. In the mean time I will be getting a visit from another luthier friend of mine tomorrow who will be bringing me a new cello to break in. I heard about plans to make this particular instrument more than two years ago and got a chance to see it in the white in August. It is a copy of the Comte de Saveuse Stradivari, a late period Stradivari that the Tarisio website says shows some of the hand of Carlo Bergonzi and was originally attributed to Ombono Stradivari, not Antonio. If I’m reading between the lines here it seems as though it was a shop collaboration. It is smaller in size, has deep ribs and a more voluminous back arching than most Stradivari instruments. The dimensions of the instrument are very pleasant and having seen it in person, I will be glad to see the final product and hear how these dimensions translate into sound.

This year I have been fortunate enough to help break in two really stellar new cellos for an extended period of time before they were sold, and to play on a fairly decent german loaner cello that punches well above its label. The first pandemic cello, A William Whedbee I played on after I shipped my Terry cello back to Boston seemed to almost phrase for itself. While I did enjoy the tone, I liked it much more so for its ease of playing and ability to show me where the phrase was supposed to go. I knew a good instrument could do that at some point, but I had forgotten that feature. When that cello was sold locally, my instrumental guardian angel gave me yet another instrument, a brand new Strad-ish model from a famous maker in the midwest, David Folland. This cello was brilliant, very playable and extremely powerful.

The kind of power it had was intoxicating and it took me back to an experience I had in college where I become aware of a 19th century French cello by ASP Bernadel, which was for sale in NYC. I picked it up and brought it back to BU for a few weeks for a trial. It was loud as hell and sounded, I thought, pretty good. I was intoxicated by the vibrations in those small basement practice rooms, but felt uneasy about the price. I also felt very uneasy about my interactions with the dealer, who seemed to occupy a very compartmentalized minimalist New York Apartment wherein I could see no other customers, no luthiers, no other instruments for sale, and no real signs that there was much of a business there except for a door with a smoked glass window which he would periodically go through if he needed the alleged luthiers to make some adjustments to the instrument. On top of this, I had some very pushy interactions with the professor who had helped me track down this cello in the first place. When I showed it to him and told him I was still unsure about it, he told me flat out that I would be an “idiot” if I didn’t buy it. Of course if I had been wiser and not 18 years old at the time, I’d have run the other direction right away. The cumulative effect of these interactions made it feel like a dark cloud of energy surrounded this cello, but I was being told by important people in places of authority that I would be missing out if I didn’t buy it and to an extent I bought into that scarcity mindset. Doing so heightened my anxiety considerably and my perception was clouded when it came to the cello. When I played it, the vibrations were incredible, but I couldn’t hear the sound away from myself. It was as if it was hiding from me in some way and that the outward shine masked a hollowness that I had not yet experienced on a conscious level, but felt in some subconscious way.

I decided to return the cello though it was still a question whether or not I would make an offer on it. I took the Amtrak back to New York and walked from Penn St. to W 66th st. This was an education in the length of New York City blocks, but that’s beside the point. On my way back to the shop in New York I had decided to visit my teacher’s home so he could have look before I returned it. I thought he could settle the matter for me since I felt so torn about it. We sat in his living room surrounded by beautiful artwork and Mr. Soyer played the cello for a while. He stopped, paused, and then told me in his very candid way that he didn’t like it. He said that everyone was so obsessed with power and volume these days, and he agreed the cello had plenty of both, but said finally that the instrument didn’t actually sound all that great. I thought I would be crushed if he didn’t like it, but actually it was a relief to me. The whole experience felt a bit off and Mr. Soyer seemed to have an intuition of that too because he promptly called one of his violin dealer friends to ask about the instrument and where it had come from. I remember sitting in the kitchen while he talked on the phone and his wife Janet warmed up some food for us. After he got off the phone and we sat down to eat carrot soup together, he explained that his contact advised us to stay away from it and even went as far as to say it might be a fake. Janet asked how they could know it was fake over the phone, and Mr. Soyer amusingly said that his guy was the biggest criminal of them all, so he would know a fake more than anyone. I returned the cello the next day and was met with disbelief which bordered on shaming. A few months later I ended up buying a cello that was about a fifth of the price. It was less powerful, but had a warm sound that was remarked upon by many over the seven years I played it. I am not equating the loaner I was given this year with the potentially phony cello I came upon, and was rescued from, in New York, except that it had a similar amount of power and in that way it reminded me of that experience. I mainly thought it would be useful to reminisce about that.

The takeaway is that if people are trying to push you into a particular instrument, you must ask yourself why. Perhaps they have some skin in the game. It has been the case in years past where teachers take a commission for instruments that get placed with their students. This is highly unethical in my opinion and the result of this behavior is music students who are saddled not only with instruments they hate, but also disappointment and resentment toward their former teachers who they trusted to help them.

Well, this post took a detour…I was going to talk about the cello I’ve been using since July…..When I received my next and last loaner it was a downgrade, but I found that it opened up significantly over the course of a few weeks and after playing concerts on it all summer and fall, it has become familiar and loved in a sense. It is easy to play, its tone is even, it has a rich lower register and while it’s not an instrument I could play forever, it has been a good companion for the time I’ve used it and even though I tell people jokingly how sick of it I am, I will miss it in a sense when I no longer have it.

I will try to give more updates when I have them. I expect that I will not have news to share about the new cello until after xmas, however I may post about the cello I’m breaking in and maybe post about some upcoming concerts or past musical experiences just for fun.

The Anticipation Builds

Hello and welcome back! I heard from Michele this week that my cello is nearly complete and that it will be resting and drying during the month of October. When November rolls around, the cello will be set up and played in. She will, I think, be watching to see how the various parts settle in. I visualized this as a cello integration period of sorts. The cello looks in one piece, but it needs to vibrate to really become one. Of course this process will be continuous just as the maturing process for any person or thing is continuous.

I will not be receiving any new pictures of the cello now that it has been varnished. That’s primarily because photographing the total look of the varnished instrument is nearly impossible, especially with a very reflective varnish. You only need to scroll down to see examples of instrument photography which misses the mark. My old cello had a very matted varnish which made photographing it easier, but even then, the true nature of the look was impossible to capture on camera. The lack of photography will make the receipt of the cello very exciting. The sound of the instrument and how it plays would already have been unknown, but now the visual side of things will be a surprise too. All I know is that Michele chose to antique this cello and I am very excited to see what it looks like with varnish.

In the mean time I have been reading Ernst Doring’s book on Guadagnini. It is evidently filled with historical errors, which is especially ironic given that much of the book focuses (overly-so in my opinion) on the regrettable errors of previous biographers. It was interesting in any case to think about what Guadagnini’s life may have been like and marvel at his output not only for its quality, but also for its sheer quantity. Guadagnini’s spent time in Piacenza, Milan, Parma and Turin and had a brief stay in Cremona. It is posited in Doring’s book that the reason Guadagnini may have moved around so much was that he would saturate his own market with instruments and have no one left to sell to, at which point he would pack up and move to a different town. This runs counter to the opinions of previous biographers who supposed that Guadagnini had a bad temper and that he eventually angered in enough people in town that he would have to move periodically to avoid his various enemies. There is no proof of the latter ever being a reason for his migrations.

I enjoyed reading about and seeing the various instruments although it struck me while reading the custodial histories of each instrument that most have been owned by a small handful of wealthy collectors over the centuries. Perhaps we owe these people some gratitude for the caretaking of masterworks from the workshops of Guarneri, Stradivari, Amati etc. however, the wealth and privilege that must be required to own so many violins is exceptional and collecting seems to me a bit like upscale hoarding in the guise of fine taste. But I digress. Instruments of that period are not just tools, they are historical objects and also pieces of art in their own right and it’s no wonder they are desired.

With our return to the MSO concerts and the Overture Hall stage this week, I have had many overwhelming emotions. It has felt quite surreal to be back and to notice how the orchestra has shifted. Some have weathered the pandemic with seeming ease, or perhaps they are better at hiding how this experience has changed them. Some have clearly been changed. For me, it feels very different to be sitting back in my chair on the Overture stage and I admit that while some aspects of the last 18 months have been very positive, as I alluded to in my previous post, there are some ways in which the pandemic and our response to it has changed my perception of the country in which I live and challenged me to justify the value of my contributions via music. Our art has been very challenged and in some cases we have risen to meet the new demands and found creative ways to overcome them. In other ways, this period has dealt a huge blow to the musical culture in which I make my living and exacted a personal toll on some members of this orchestra and many others.

Now that I am on the Overture stage again, hearing my sound in a big space, my anticipation of the new cello has been amplified significantly. I am waiting for new pads for my cello case that will fit the new instrument and that’s about all I can do. I can’t wait to share the cello with you. ETA late November-December?? We shall see

The Shifting Pandemic

I recently received a donation from the family of a former student and when I logged in to apply the donation to my little donation tracker below, I saw the previous post from June 1st. I had a now-familiar realization of how drastically the pandemic has shifted since my last post.

When it comes to my career as a musician, the persistence of covid and our lack of collective agency to defeat it has had me wondering at times when performing will happen again and in some cases whether I want to be a part of it when it does. Since the spring of 2021, Madison Symphony has been planning to put on Beethoven’s 9th for its return to the stage and while that looked possible if not somewhat ill-advised at the beginning of the summer, it is looking less and less probable that this concert will take place. Will we or won’t we has been the perpetual question for some. I’m not sure I’ve ever been too optimistic about our chances for eradicating covid, but I’ve certainly wanted to be back in a large ensemble and I have missed that privilege.

I’m still looking forward to the arrival of my new cello some time in November and I’m still hopeful that the orchestra will reconvene at some point this year and that I will get to use my new tool in that context. If that doesn’t happen in 2021, it will in some sense feel like the logical result of half of our population refusing to be vaccinated and so in that sense I’m not waiting anxiously. It’s more like I’m laying back, waiting for the cloud to get even darker. That sounds very cynical to say, but cynicism aside It has been sad and predictable and I wonder how this experience will change our society for better or worse.

I AM thankful that this past year has been filled with creative, versatile music making. Things that stick out are WSCP’s concerts at Gates of Heaven, Grace Presents, The Wisconsin Union Theater, Art and Lit Lab and the Wisconsin Chamber Orchestra’s online series. While I miss playing in a symphony orchestra and more specifically the an opera orchestra, I have had some extremely intimate performance experiences over the last year that simply could not have existed in the context of Overture Hall. I can reflect on these experiences with pride and gratitude for the friends and organizers who made these concerts a reality under extremely adverse conditions. I will be compiling some videos to which I have rights and putting them on the website soon.

Stay tuned for more updates. I am hopeful to have more for you soon. I’m thrilled with how much support I’ve received and can’t wait to share the result of this commission with you.

The Cello is All Together

First of all, a massive thank you to my donors. It is looking like things will be opening up more as the year progresses and I’m hopeful that the Madison Symphony will return to the stage on schedule and that I will be able to play my new cello in Overture Hall by the end of 2021. I’m so looking forward to that and to playing chamber music and recitals with it in 2022 and beyond. If you’re interested in supporting my purchase of this cello, please click on the link to donate! Read on below for new pictures and an update on the progress of the cello

The cello is done “in the white,” which means the varnishing will begin soon. While the cello may appear to be close to the end, the process of varnishing a cello takes several months and it will need to be sunned for a little bit before that can even begin. I was told that this is the old way of doing things and that these days many shops will use drying boxes instead of sunlight. As a person who likes natural things, I am glad to see the cello sunning on Michele’s porch instead of being heated by human-made means. There is no light bulb greater than the sun, after all.

I admit I do not know much about the process of varnishing a cello, but from my own experience varnishing various woodworking pieces in my own home, and from the many youtube videos I have watched on violin making, I know that this is a complicated, multistage process. Here’s an interesting article by British Luthier Robin Aitchison all about Cello Varnish. Luthiers do not all order premade varnish. As I understand it, most serious luthiers each make their own varnish. This is a skill like any other that is honed over a lifetime of research and practice and each maker arrives at a different aesthetic and practical end.

In the great debate about what made Stradivari and the early Italian makers so successful, it was posited that the varnish was the secret to the sound of the old masters. This may be reductionist and perhaps very difficult to prove, since the varnish is just one of so many ingredients that blend to make a wonderful sounding instrument, but in Aitchison’s article he addresses how recipes have changed over time.

If you go to a high end violin shop, or even sit close to the stage at a symphony orchestra concert, you can see the varied colors, textures and transparencies of each instrument’s varnish. The varnish on an instrument contains a bit of its history, not only in the sense that the varnish was made during a particular time when particular knowledge and skill may have been available, but also in the sense that the wear on the varnish of an instrument can describe the behavior of the player. The points of wear over time, evidence of aggressive playing, perhaps even evidence of not having been played at all.

An excellent 2020 Wiliiam Whedbee cello I had the opportunity to break in this year

The cello I am currently playing on has a soft, mirror-like varnish and antiquing which replicates tool markings and wear on the varnish that might take place over centuries of use. It was made in 2021 by David Folland (Update: It is now owned by a former student)

My Terry cello had a very matted and even varnish with virtually no antiquing. Over time I wore away varnish on the left side of the cello by resting my hand just to the left of the neck. Other than that there was virtually no wear to the varnish. See below for some examples of Instrument varnish variations.

I happen to have played on several of Michele’s instruments, so I have a rough idea of her varnishing style, but it is unknown how the varnish will transform this particular wood and that’s an exciting mystery.

Top and Back are not Opposites

Below are some pictures of the cello nearing completion “in the white,” which means the body of the cello will soon be closed and the neck affixed to it. The cello will need varnish before the fingerboard, bridge and other fittings are added and this process takes a few months to complete.

I was very struck by the beauty and finish of these pieces. While an instrument with varnish is amazing, there is something very appealing about seeing the raw wood having been sculpted like this. I think it almost seems more real. I’m captivated by the top and the back of the cello for different reasons. The top because of the proportions. I don’t know if I can explain exactly why these particular proportions are appealing, but as it is with any piece of art, it’s hard to truly explain why we gravitate towards it. Perhaps it’s because I know this instrument is going to be mine, or perhaps there is something in the curve of the c-bouts or the ratio between shoulders and hips. Probably it’s a combination of those things. It’s interesting to note that Guadagnini does not seem to have had contact with any of the great master makers of his time and so his instruments are somewhat original in their style even though the workshops of Stradivari, Guarneri and other greats were nearby. It may just be my imagination, but I can see that original figure in the top. Of course this is not a Guadagnini even if it is inspired by one. This is made by Michele and It’s hard to miss her elegant style.

The back is appealing for the same reasons, but I also enjoy looking at the flame and the grain of this maple and imagining how the stage lights will hit it, or the sun through the skylight in my studio. I have always been very attracted to the aesthetic of a beautiful instrument. In another, wealthier, more eccentric life, I could see myself compulsively collecting beautiful instruments just to look at. Of course, most of the beauty is in the sound and that is still an exciting mystery.