oboeinsight

“So it’s like a symphony, right? The piston goes down, and comes back up.”

What is it with ad companies and using music as some sort of metaphor or example for whatever they’re advertising? And how the heck is a piston going down and coming back up like a symphony?

Of course advertisers and newspapers love to use the symphony lingo. You can’t escape it, as I’m sure you’ve found.

Here’s one for you:

Quartet of shutterbugs comes together in symphony of shots

And then there are those headlines for actual music articles:

Trying to tune up symphony finances

Rankin composes himself to write an opera

Getting a Handel on classical-music sites

Grand Opera ends season on high note

Yeah, they aren’t very creative, are they? And you know there are so many more I could paste here for you. But … well … I’m nicer than that. 😉
—–

Some neighbors to the west side of our house have had music blasting both today and yesterday. But I don’t even have a clue what they are playing. All I hear—and feel—is the bass cranked up to who knows where going boom thump boom thump boom boom thump thump.

And this makes me grumpy.

Which makes me wonder: do my neighbors get grumpy when I or my oboe students are playing? Or maybe they don’t even hear us because we are so much higher than the boom booms.

Boom boom thump thump
makes me quite the grouchy grump

And now I’m off to something that will, I’m sure, make me even grumpier: REEDS.
—–

Looks like I’m not a top 100 classical music blog any longer.

I’d go cry in my beer, but I’m not having a beer. So oh well.
—–

Last night, prior to the opera, I had this glib little conversation with some colleagues. I’m not sure how we go on to the subject of reeds, but I tossed out my little story about a coaching session I once had with a principal player of the San Francisco Symphony. (This was years ago.) The minute I stepped into his house I said my usual, “I have awful reeds,” and his response was, “So learn how to play on bad reeds.” Of course he’s right, and I often explain this to students; there will be days that we will have only bad reeds. We still have to play well. We can’t make excuses. My motto really is, “Play well on bad reeds. Or else.”

But isn’t it somewhat mysterious, frightening, distressing and … well … I could go on … that after saying that last night I get into the pit and find that my reeds are misbehaving?

Yes. Yes it is.

Thank you to Ruth for writing to me to say that my pathetic posts (no, she didn’t use the word pathetic!) on my reed woes are actually encouraging. I am guessing there are some professional musicians who never worry about reeds, but I’m certain there are a lot of players who just won’t talk about it. I prefer to be honest about this whole business. You may as well know the truth.

But still, I did play well on my reeds last night … or so I’ve been told. So I guess I’m managing to follow my motto!
—–

It is a coincidence that these two words rhyme, cause me great distress, and won’t behave?

Now if only my reeds would flourish like weeds, and my weeds would fail like my reeds, I’d be a much happpier camper. But I am currently a Most Unhappy Camper. I’ve been working, working, working on reeds. Nothing feels right. The cane feels yucky, the crows are all horrible, and after a while I started seeing only bizarre foreign objects in front of me, as my brain went into lala land and couldn’t even fathom reed making any longer.

Why do I sometimes feel as if I’m the only person in the world who can’t seem to get a reed when I work diligently? Often I can get a RushReed™ out of desperation. But diligence? It’s simply not paying off!

Okay … grumble over.

For now.

Perhaps I should blame this Very Bad Reed Day on the Sharks and their sad loss. Or the Yankees and their win. Hmmm. Maybe both.

Reed woes couldn’t be my fault, could they? 😉

Someone did a search on brain damage and oboe playing.

Yep. This is the perfect place to land. 😉
—–