Skip to main content

Coming Back

This is the worst.  I'm the worst.  The first day back on the oboe after 11 days of vacation, following a week of wrangling students through chamber music and orchestral rep - it's been nearly three weeks since I did any playing that I'd consider quality.  And coming back hurts.  I know it does, because it turns out that nearly every summer I've written this exact same post.  HERE, for example, and HERE.

It makes it worse this year that the most recent oboe playing I've encountered was at IDRS, where people are just so great.  I heard so many fantastic performances. And I was actively listening, and learning, and analyzing, and noticing things I wanted to work on and things I wanted to accentuate.  With my most recent habit being analytical listening, and my actual last practice session being three weeks ago, I can't help but notice just how terrible everything feels right now.

And because I'm now officially beginning my  preparation time for my CD recording, at the end of August, it's even all the more awful.  I'm working up the Mendelssohn that I played two years ago, and the Gershwin, and the Bach - and these are HARD pieces, and I'm suddenly reminded of how long it took me to learn them in the first place, and they just feel so lousy today.

All of my reeds are too old and bad.  My studio is too humid, and my oboe feels out of adjustment, especially compared to the spectacular brand new ones I played at the convention.  My face doesn't know how to hold itself.  I forget how to do the hard technique.

This is not new.  Every year I take a little time off, and I feel better for it, AFTER the miserable readjustment period which is right now. It always feels bad, but it won't take long.  The first day is the worst, and then things start to come back together.  This will not be as bad as I fear.

I dragged myself through two sessions today, and will make it happen again tomorrow, and by Day Three or Four I'll be back on this blog talking cheerfully about the tiny tweak I'm working on or about which TV rerun is inspiring me this time.

But today, please let me just stew in it.  I hate the oboe, I hate reeds, and I hate myself.  I hate my CD project.  I want a new job, one that is easy.  Who's got one of those for me? Who?

Comments

  1. Can't wait to hear your CD! I bet it will be wonderful. Gershwin and Bach, cool.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Blog has MOVED

 Have you been waiting ... and waiting ... and WAITING for a new Prone Oboe post?  Don't wait here anymore!  The blog has moved to https://jennetingle.com/prone-oboe/  and will not be updated here on Blogger anymore.  Please come and check me out there!  I love you all - stay safe out there!  Jennet

How Do You WISH You Could Describe Your Reeds?

In Reed Club last Monday, we took a moment before we started scraping to set some intentions.  We each said one word - an adjective to describe what we WANTED our reeds to be.  An aspirational adjective. Efficient was a word that came up, and Consistent . Dark and Mysterious . Mellow . Predictable .  Trustworthy .  Honest .  BIGGER . Reed affirmations actually felt helpful - both in the moment and in the results we found as we worked.  I don't know why that surprises me - I set intentions at the beginning of the year, at the beginning of the month, at the beginning of a run, in the morning before I work.  I love a good affirmation.  I love WORDS.  But I'd sort of forgotten about the possibility of applying one to the mundane work of reed-making.   You don't have to know exactly how to GET to that result.  But having clarity in your mind about what that result is?  Helps you to stop going down unhelpful rabbit holes...

Don't Wait For It

 Don’t wait for it. The lowest notes on the oboe are notoriously difficult to play. They don’t want to speak, they MIGHT splatter, they are SLOW to respond, they feel flat. And if your instrument is even slightly out of adjustment, they can be even more resistant - sometimes literally impossible. And some students WAIT for that low note to come before they go on, and THIS disrupts the rhythm, the tempo, the flow of the piece, and the musical line they are trying to create.  It distracts the listeners, it throws the ensemble off.  The pianist has to lurch to catch them, the conductor has to stop and yell.   One missed note, or one note that doesn’t quite speak - THAT doesn’t ruin your communication. But the distraction and disruption for both you and your listener that happens when YOU acknowledge the problem, when YOU make us all wait patiently for the response of a low C - that’s when you lose us. I think every low note has three possibilities within it. 1. It ...