Category Archives: Basics

When retro is not especially cool

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I’m nearing the end of my first full term of a new orchestra. The concert looms, but that’s another story. On the whole it’s been great, both new and familiar. Some things never change – not practising enough, swearing to yourself at each rehearsal that you’ll never come unprepared again and then still not practising enough, not looking at the conductor as often as you should despite constant reminders – but a few things have definitely moved on. The kit has improved significantly for a start.

Take music stands: I remember spindly, unstable metal affairs that toppled over if you breathed near them, and had fiendish screws that lacerated your fingers. These days stands are lighter and yet more stable, they fold up more easily and slide neatly into compact little bags with handles, the screws are either made of plastic or encased in it (altogether more finger-friendly) and, rather charmingly, they come in all the colours of the rainbow.

The cases have changed too. Anyone who has played their instrument regularly in the past decade or so has, very sensibly, invested in something a bit like this:

(with thanks to Caswells Strings)

i.e. something relatively weather-proof, padded and with a strap that can be slung over your shoulder leaving your hands free (and a handy pouch for music). If you enter ‘viola cases’ into google images these days, you have to scroll down quite far before you come across anything that looks like mine, and scanning the orchestra last week, my case was definitely in a class of its own (not in a good way). A fellow viola reassured me that mine was endearingly retro, but quaintness might have to give way to practicality before long, if only so that I can pick up more than one bag of shopping on my way back from rehearsals.

 

Vibrato: desirable but difficult

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“A regular, pulsating change of pitch used to add expression to vocal and instrumental music”

“A slight rapid fluctuation in pitch of a note”

Using vibrato on a stringed instrument is a way to mimic the human voice – it adds character and depth. There are evidently all sorts of politics surrounding it: the extent to which it should be used, how long it has been widely practised etc. I don’t have the time, space or knowledge to go into it but there’s a bit more detail on the debate here.

As for the practicalities, I’ve found it to be a lot harder to do than it sounds. And, if the countless YouTube vibrato tutorials are anything to go by, I’m not alone.

I still feel quite dependent on my left hand to hold the instrument at the neck (rather than having it safely gripped between my chin and shoulder) so I have trouble relaxing my left hand enough to roll my finger back and forth as required. Inevitably, the only way to get any better is to do regular vibrato exercises. They sound revolting but, by all accounts, work.

For me, there’s also a psychological aspect to it. As I said before there’s something a bit ‘unEnglish’ about vibrato, like pronouncing correctly a foreign word that’s now widely used in English: a proper French ‘r’ for your Tesco croissants, the gutteral ‘j’ for your extra jalapeno from Dominos. Vibrato a feels a bit show-offy, “look-at-me, look at me I’m not just playing the notes, I’m doing a bit of vibraaaato”. It’s all very well for real musicians but for the rest of us is it not just a little bit pretentious? (The answer is of course no.) And then there’s the fear that you could have a go, not quite manage it and then feel silly for trying. But that’s true of more or less everything.

The fear of being found out

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Have you ever been introduced to someone, immediately forgotten their name, got to know them really quite well and then left it far too late to be able to ask without offending them? I once knew a fellow parent for months and had some fairly personal conversations with her, all the time not having a clue what her name was. I just kept hoping it would come up in conversation somehow and dreading the time when I had to introduce her to someone else.

It has, for me, been a bit the same with learning to read music. I was taught how to read music as a child but soon afterwards mislaid the knowledge and then, suddenly, it was too late to admit it. I worked my way through the grades learning the pieces mostly by ear, became head of my school orchestra and lived in fear of the music director saying in early rehearsals: “could you just play that bar for us?” By the time I joined an orchestra at university, it was getting really rather awkward and that, combined with general laziness and the distraction of suddenly becoming ‘an adult’, signalled the end of my playing for a few years.

Just to clarify, I’m not completely musically illiterate, show me a note on the stave and I can, for the most part, find it on the viola. But sometimes there’s a bit of time delay, and I might well not be able to tell you the name of the note. So, when the conductor says, “violas, play me that E”, I do so very quietly and tentatively in case I’ve got the wrong one. It’s a rather embarrassing admission to be quite honest.

Why, you are probably thinking, do I not just learn to read music properly? That would of course have been the sensible thing to do. And I’m now, finally, doing what I said I’d do at the start of all this and going back to the very beginning. There are tonnes of fantastic music theory websites out there but it turns out I don’t have the self-discipline to use them methodically so I’ve gone old-school and bought myself an idiot-proof music theory work book, starting at grade one. Maybe this time next year I’ll be able to play that E with a bit more confidence.

Suffering for my art

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I have a very long neck. It’s a thing that would probably have gone unnoticed my whole life (by me at least) if I didn’t play the viola. But as it is, I can’t play without a shoulder rest – a padded accessory that attaches to the back of my viola adding height to the shoulder, and making it easier for me to hold the instrument in place.

This is my favourite line of the wiki entry for shoulder rests:
Depending on body type and style of clothes, some musicians need no more than a thin sponge, a cloth or sometimes nothing at all under the instrument.

I’d love to know what article of clothing might double up as a shoulder rest, some kind of Elizabethan ruff made of Styrofoam perhaps. Anyway, what with my clothing deficiencies and peculiarly long neck, I’ve become quite a connoisseur of shoulder rests. During my teens I stuffed all manner of things in the gap between the back of my viola and my collarbone, including the sponge we used for washing the car (strapped on with an elastic band) and a mangy velvet beanbag thing. This is what I now use:

It’s fine, but for some reason I still can’t quite get comfortable when I’m playing, and I’m not sure why. It could be down to the chinrest. I thought these were much of a muchness but have been reliably informed that they vary quite a lot. Mine has particularly curved edge that locks it in under my chin so that it’s difficult to move my head around when I’m playing. This can be remedied: I could get a flatter one and have it fitted.

But, this is where I start to feel a little silly. It’s all very well customising your instrument if you’re Laurence Power, but I can’t help feeling that for someone of my standard it’s a bit like buying a harness and crampons for a stroll along the South Downs. So, until I’ve got a little bit better at playing the viola, I’m going to stay a little bit uncomfortable.

 

 

Beautiful stuff, rosin

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This is first block of rosin I bought as an adult:

Rosin, for the uninitiated, is the stuff that string players rub on their bow hair to help it grip the strings. See how it gleams. Isn’t it lovely? The sight of it, like the familiar smell of my viola when I first reopened the case, brought back so many memories. I get a great deal of satisfaction from flicking open the metal claps of my case, pushing back the lid, grabbing my viola by the neck, attaching my shoulder rest, tightening my bow, and finally, putting some rosin on. There is so much pleasure in these little rituals.

The right way to hold a bow

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A friend of mine has recently started having tennis lessons, and seen his game rapidly deteriorate as a result: his instructor has been trying to get him to hold his racket the right way, and he rarely manages to do that and hit the ball at the same time.

I’m in a similar predicament. As I mentioned before, I recently learnt that I’ve been holding my bow wrong for years. I’ve always held it in a vice-like grip, my thumb nestled in the crook (never reaching the pad where it’s meant to sit), and my little finger jutting straight out to the right like it’s in a splint. I’d also been using the bow a bit like a saw, pressing down against the strings rather than letting the weight of my arm and the bow do the work. So that’s all wrong, which, with the benefit of hindsight, seems glaringly obvious. This is how it should be done:

–      Your thumb sits on the pad and stays bent
–      All fingers should be arched into a (relaxed) flexed position, with the middle finger opposite the thumb
–      Your (relaxed) fingers should remained arched for a Down Bow and then naturally elongate for an Up Bow

This site explains it fairly clearly,  or, better still, watch this nice little 3-minute tutorial from Itzhak Perlman.

The trouble is, now I know how it should be done, my musicality, like my friend’s tennis game, has gone out of the window. Hopefully it’s just a matter of time before it becomes second nature.

The honeymoon is over – life with music begins

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Over the past week I’ve found myself adding ‘viola practice’ to my ‘to do’ list. This is no bad thing in some ways as I’m still at the habit-forming stage. But, with some of the enthusiasm of the first few weeks having ebbed away, I had a creeping sense that the viola was becoming a chore, which is absolutely the last thing it should be. One of the joys of learning or returning to an instrument as an adult, is that you can come to it without any feelings of bondage: you’re playing because you want to, you’re giving yourself an opportunity to switch off from everything else and do something that gives you pleasure. It is, for want of a better expression, you-time.

So if you do start to dread practising, my advice is to get your instrument out, choose something, anything that is completely un-taxing – music that you know can play without really having to think about it at all – and just enjoy the tune and the fact that you’re able to make music. For me it was jigs and carols, and before I knew it, I’d been there an hour.

Embarrassing is good

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“Play C major like it’s the most beautiful piece of music you’ve ever heard,” said my teacher during my first (adult) lesson. “Plenty of dynamics and vibrato…”

Like a lot of people, I find that kind of thing a bit awkward. Playing with passion makes you feel exposed. Adding your own dynamics smacks of showing off. Vibrato is a bit… un-English. So much easier to just plod faithfully through it, eyes fixed on the music, focusing on keeping time and getting the accidentals in the right place. But, as teacher pointed out, it’s not all about time signatures and chromatic scales, it’s about making a beautiful sound, no matter what you’re playing. And working on the principle that if something feels difficult it’s exactly what you should be doing, embarrassing is good.

Here are some of the other things I learnt:
- I’ve been holding my bow the wrong way for at least 15 years
- Strings need to be replaced every now and again, even if they don’t break
- If your neck really aches after you’ve been playing, you’re probably holding the instrument the wrong way
- Having the occasional lesson is very worthwhile