Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Blog

Need grace, not grace notes.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

I am feeling musically overwhelmed.

For weeks now, I've been training myself to remember that a "B" is an open string on the guitar. I struggled to stop using violin fingerings for the guitar.

You can see where this is going, I'm sure.

I left work in a rush, having an hour and fifteen minute drive north ahead of me. I arrived at practice with my violin, preparing myself for the usual Canon in D and all the other wedding music, the violin case dusty (never the sign of a practicing musician) and my mind befuddled. The music was impossible for me, and was also badly organized in my violin music "organizer."

I'm such a Columbo, sometimes. And I didn't have the musical chops to make the evening beautiful.

Double stops. Grace notes. Double-stopped grace notes! Good grief -- it was more than my unpracticed-since-Christmas fingers could bear. And, of course, I'm now messing up and thinking guitar fingerings instead of violin.

Aargh! The "B" is one finger down on the A-string! Remember this! I would holler at myself in my head, rosin dust flying as I bizarrely thought that if I played louder, it might somehow get on tune.

Obviously, I need to get serious about practicing these instruments. As it were, some words that could be applied to my playing are squeal, squall, squalor, squelch, screech, scratch, and scream.

Mary and I were playing the second part, but not in the sense that second equaled the easier part to play. On the contrary; we were playing counter-rhythms and continuous runs and all these bizarre double stops while the others were playing clear one-note melody. Mary was doing great, and Gail, on the cello right behind me, helped to drown me out.

But.

"Do you think you seconds could play that intro?" our leader asked. The firsts didn't have any intro, but we had some bizarre stretch of runs and grace notes that bounced around the strings.

"I'm sure I can play some notes," I grumped, "but I won't guarantee it's what's written."

In one piece, where both Mary and I got lost -- not so much in the music, for we knew where we were, but just in the realization that we could not play at the current bow-ripping speed the rest of the group was flying along at -- she began to hum our part. I burst out into a cackling snort and laugh. The rest of the group, no doubt disgusted by my impropriety, continued to play beautifully.

And of course, I remained a bottom-dweller in the few pieces of music that weren't written for a group, but that we were trying to play as such. As in:

"We need some more harmony. We have too many playing the melody. Julie, what are you playing?"

"What I usually do. You know, stuff from the bottom." This meant I was pulling notes the piano was playing out of the bass clef, tossing them up an octave or two, and then, in some parts, playing notes that would go with the chord for the measure.

I leaned in close to Mary and whispered, "Sometime, I want to play the simple, clear melody and have my music all written out as I should play it and just relax."

Don't even ask me about the organizational qualities of the actual sheets of music and the hodge-podge method of "can I share off of you?" and how many times I tipped my music stand over. Music from a musician like me, at a wedding, leads to a divorce.

And then there was fun driving home in the dark, after the long, hand-and-wrist-aching practice.

You know what a moose is, don't you? It's a meat-based insurance fiasco.

I slam on the brakes and wait for it to think about moving on before finally moving on. Moose tend to consider their next move, and I tend to respect that consideration.

You know what ducks are, don't you? They're bottom-heavy waterfowl capable of flight but choosing instead to waddle into traffic and get hit which causes decreases in their numbers making men in urban areas like Minneapolis and Osh Kosh and Fargo call into radio programs and gripe about farmers and then spend money on conservation programs to increase the wetlands when what they really should do, if they wanted to boost the places the ducks like best, is re-gravel the township roads and consider a little shoulder work on Ramsey County number 3.

And also, my vehicle hit 199,000 miles today.

I hear violins playing.

Labels: music, my life, nature

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3 Comments:

Have you considered taking up the mandolin? Same tuning as violin.

Love the moose definition.

By Michael Bates, at 7/5/08 23:04

I cringed. I laughed. I commiserated. But mostly my heart goes out to you. I actually broke out in a cold sweat reading your trials and tribulations, empathetically there with you. Gosh, those awful memories...

I have no doubt you will be prepared for the wedding, however much pain you must go through in the process. I could say "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger", but I fear you would smack me upside the head.

As for moose and ducks, well, they taste good.

(P.S. Thanks for the glass of milk, even if it was unintentional.)

By Rey, at 8/5/08 05:05

I struggled to stop using violin fingerings for the guitar.

Most of us would be bragging if we said that. You realize that, don't you?

By ThirstyDavid, at 8/5/08 11:14

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