Chello

In early September when I first found out about the project I was completely overwhelmed. I had no idea what I was going to do, study, or write, and the possibilities seemed endless. Of course, they still do, but I eventually decided that learning an instrument would be a good first quarter idea. My next decision was in choosing exactly what instrument that would be. I thought about percussion; playing drums would help me with rhythm and increase my ability to count music. On the other hand, I don't own a drum set and I don't have easy access to one at school, either. I also ruled out wind instruments, of both brass and woodwind. I've never before in my life played a wind instrument other than the recorder, and I knew that it would take a lot of practice to even get to where I could play simple notes; so I settled on learning a string instrument. Which one? With careful consideration, I decided that of the four main orchestra stringed instruments, the cello would be the best choice to learn. Having been playing the violin for many years, learning the viola would be, in my opinion, too easy to learn the physical maneuvers. The only thing I would really be learning how to do would be reading the music and playing the corresponding correct note on the instrument. It would be challenging and would require practice, but it wasn't the experience I was looking for. On the other end of the spectrum of potential instruments, however, was Papa Bear's porridge. The bass, in all of its magnificence, would have been too much to handle in just two months' time. Firstly, basses are just so gosh-darned gigantic. Secondly, switching to an instrument where each string's interval is a perfect fourth instead of a perfect fifth (disregarding the guitar) would be another major step to overcome. Thirdly, I felt that adjusting to such a different instrument from my primary would be too challenging for me, as I didn't have an inordinate amount of time to devote to this assignment. At long last we come to the humble cello. In all their seated glory, I have always admired cellists for the beautiful sounds they create. I have always been amazed at the sheer range of sound that can from from a cello; from some tremendously low tones all the way up into the higher normal violin range, and sometimes even beyond that for those more experienced cellists. I concluded that I would spend my next few weeks learning the masterful craft that is playing the cello.

The day after finalizing my musical machination, I waltzed to the local shop of musical-inclination to search for a suitable substitute to a formally trained trainer in the field of song (and/or dance); a book of sorts, so as to save myself from the unsuitably large expenditure that would be music lessons (sorry, I just got a little carried away). While at the music store, I inquired about cello (in general), and spoke with the owner for a while about the direction that I should take with learning the new instrument. He sold me a book and some other things that he believed would help me on my way to discovering the new world that I was about to enter. I couldn't afford to rent a cello though, but I knew that I could use a school instrument during the day to practice.

So here we go. In school. Early September. I borrow a cello, grab my fresh new book and head to one of the practice rooms in the orchestra room because a class is being taught in the main room. I sit down, pull out the end-pin, get things set up, ready to go, and I tune the cello. I take note about how it feels to sit, to hold the instrument, to pluck the strings that have been played by so many young cellists before me. It feels so electrifying to finally get to learn this new instrument. The cello's in tune now, perfect fifths, first the lowest of them all, the C, followed by the G, the yet higher D, and the strangest string of them all, the A. I open the book, eager to begin my first private lesson with just me in the chair, the book on the stand, and my cello under my arm. The book introduces the cello, we say our 'Hello's, and now we're off. First up is the D string. I'm taught where to put my first finger and we play a few songs with just D and E. They're not the most melodic pieces I've ever played, but they stand their own. Next we learn about the A string and its first finger buddy, B. The A string of the cello has always been so strange to me. Its timbre, its tone so different than all the other strings, with a certain whine to it that can't be mistaken for anything else. After our little adventure into the land with four tones, we now come to the third finger F# on the D string as well as the C# on the A string. I practiced these a while, as well as the equivalent notes on the C and G strings. I took this time to adjust my bow grip. I wanted to be sure that I was adjusting from the violin correctly, so I had Mr. Preddice give me some pointers. Over the next few days he showed me a few tips and tricks that I needed to learn in order to advance my studies. Over the course of another few days, I learned the rest of the notes and lower positions of the cello. One of the most challenging things to me was learning half position to get in those accidentals. I had some difficulty going to half position and then playing any other notes with any degree of accuracy. It was also difficult getting back into a completely accurate first position quickly. I tended to slide either too much or too little.

While I was satisfying my thirst for musical knowledge I also began to teach my friend Gregory the instrument. He's a terrific percussionist, and plays the drums with precision and skill, but he doesn't have much experience with other instruments. He wanted to learn just as I was, so I had a few lessons with him. I taught Greg about both general music and the cello. He knew how to read music a bit, so we practiced a lot together and played many easy duets from the books that I had purchased. I was sure to stay a few steps ahead of him, being able to teach him new aspects all the time, improving both his musical knowledge and capabilities. I actually took this on as sort of a side-project. I was teaching him the fundamentals of music and the cello, and it was also reinforcing both my knowledge and my ability to convey it to others. These are essential skills that I would like to work more at in the future. If I may digress slightly, I have been teaching many of my friends about what I have learned in the past and in this class, and I have tried to get more and more people interested in what goes on behind the music that they play. Just a small example, for example, is an example I exemplify in orchestra class. Oftentimes I quiz my stand-mate about the content of the music we're playing, whether it be by asking what key we're in, what time period the piece is from, or just other knowledge, such as intervals, different keys, modes, styles of music, composers, et cetera. Now we'll return from the digression.

So after a few days, maybe a week or two of learning the finger placements, different positions and basic fundamentals of the cello, I began to focus more on my tone. I wasn't very adept with the bow, and I found that it was terribly easy to get unwanted harmonics and other extraneous sounds. I knew that my bow stroke was the problem, so I paid more and more attention to it and worked until I felt that I had a sufficiently good tone. I no longer made unwanted harmonics and such when I played, and I do believe that my vibrato sounded really good. I mean, cello is probably the easiest instrument to do vibrato on, but I feel that I did it better than I had before. After this period of technical work, I shifted back into a bit more work on the music. I found that I had trouble keeping with the written bow-strokes, which were written that way for a purpose, so I tried to work on that aspect a little more, along with just feeling the emotion of the music as I was playing it. I sometimes get very 'into' the music that I'm playing or listening to, as you may or may not have noticed along the way. My biggest issue with this, as I'm just discovering in my head now as I write this, is with my left hand. On a cello, the finger placement is much more spread apart and - if I may stretch so far as to say this - unnatural. I feel like on this instrument, my fingers are always on the verge of being too tense and locked into what they are doing instead of feeling the music being played. Maybe I'll feel different than that with more practice, but for now I stand by it. Another thing that I noticed, even after learning the basics, was that I needed to spend a few minutes each time 'warming up'- that is to say, readjusting to the finger placements, reading the music against the finger placements, and overall getting used to it again. This is undoubtedly true with any new instrument, especially one with as many nuances and articulations that go along with it as with the cello.

Overall, I would like to say that I was hugely successful at playing the cello, but I cannot honestly say that I'm very good, pretty good, or even spectacularly okay, but I can hold my own, and with enough practice I would certainly improve to a playable level. If I had a private home cello, I do believe that I would be able to play much of our current orchestra music. I've noticed, as with anything else in life, that all it takes is practice and determination, and perhaps a little skill. Here's a weird comparison I was thinking about earlier: typing. My dad, it has been said, could lose nine of his fingers and still type at the same speed. The reason for this, although he's at the computer a good amount of time, is that he doesn't practice his typing. He does quick Google searches and email responses short enough to fit in the subject line. I, on the other hand, practice typing for hours. I write poetry, essays, code websites by hand, chat in threads long enough to make a normal person die from boredom, and do many other things all with my keyboard. So I realized a few hours ago as I was typing something up that I had written on a piece of paper that I wasn't thinking at all about it. I was just reading the paper and typing the words that were written, without thinking at all which keys to press, where to move my fingers, or in what order to hit the keys. I was just doing it, from years of practice and computer usage. So how does this strange example connect to the cello? Well, I'm good at typing quickly and efficiently because I've practiced a lot over years and years. Ethan Geller once told me that although he had taken piano lessons for years, it wasn't until he could just play on his own and had his fingers tell him what to play that he started to really love doing it. I believe this holds true for anything that we do in life. The first part of learning the cello is the hardest part. It's boring, in some respect. It's just mindless practice and practice and practice to be able to play it. It's not until we get to that point, that point of which can't be expressed in words, where we can finally just open up and express our real true inner selves.

Now, I honestly didn't mean for this to have taken the turns that it has. Both in my project and in this write-up, I have changed both mindset and course of action multiple times. While writing this, I started out mildly amusing myself with the constructs of the English language. I shifted into a real mindset a bit later, and even later still I started delving into the depth of the human psyche. The same things happened throughout the project. I started out just thinking about learning the basics of the cello and presenting a piece to you in class, but that to me wouldn't do. I had to do something different, to explore both my mind and body to come up with something that I can't express in words. I taught my friends about the cello on my journey to where I am now, and I also taught them about the basics of theory and music along with it. I also went through learning phases and teaching phases. I taught a lot, I thought a lot, and now here to you I have just presented my findings in the most expressive of ramblings. I would like to think that you, too, have learned something along with me, and that we may take it with us for the rest of our lives.