To find music that is rare, or under copyright that is available for fair use, Worldcat is the international resource for searching libraries. If you enter your location, it will start with a list that is closer to you, and continue as needed. Sometimes one must pay for a scanned copy, sometimes works are available through interlibrary loan. If you copy the information from where something is located and all identifying information from that host institution (call number, file info, etc.), one can take that information to a local library and get their help in requesting the score.
Once on the page, select advanced search (a little graphic to the right of the search window), and in “format” select Musical Score, and enter title of the work you are looking for and the composer’s name (as author). Sometimes it takes a few tries to find what you are looking for (particularly the manner in which you enter the title).
I found this list on allmusic.com (who knew there was such a thing?) back in 2017, when I was first putting together this Blog. It seems there are some recordings they don’t consider allmusic, like some film soundtracks, disco (perhaps someone thought that era best forgotten?); what can I say, the early 80s had some gaps…
How is it that a musician can introduce themselves? As the proof of the pudding is in the doing where a performer is concerned, it seems most obvious in biographical statements that are all too common nowadays that such statements as, “greatest X of their generation!” etc, and glowing reviews are the norm. Yeah, I guess there’s that. But I’m mostly retired at this point, so I’m past the “brilliantly talented!” ” a “gift to their art!” phase of life (not that I make such claims, just commenting on how this is sometimes done). So what’s left? A poet I once knew wrote a work concerning hieroglyphs which had the line, “these tiny scratches echo lives.” In that vein, what better offering in this regard than these tiny engravings of numbers within the ether of the internet, echos of a life in music.
The Arden Trio live
From old cassettes of live performances, some in concert, some from broadcasts, some incomplete. Stuff happens to old tapes…
There is some ambiguous and/or inconsistent language traditionally employed by cellists in reference to aspects of cello playing. For instance, I define positions as they are commonly understood and have been as far back as I see method books (Duport, Dotzauer, et al), yet there are some in eastern Europe who refer to positions chromatically (Starker occasionally did this as well). There is a certain logic to that, but most of the world uses the diatonic system of reference. However, while I have never heard anyone refer to “2.5 position” for instance, we do say “half position.” Yes, it is inconsistent. If you are playing in Eb minor and you have your left hand on the notes Eb (1st), F (3rd), and Gb (4th) above middle C on the A string, it is 4th position, not 3.5 position, for instance, nor is it an “extended” position. In “normal” thumb position with the thumb on the A above middle C, you are in 8th position because the 1st finger is on B, the 8th diatonic note above the open A string. Ah, ambiguity!
One example of the misuse of language in referring to how the cello is played is “supination,” a term commonly used by Starker (and many others) in reference to the bow hand. If one were to supinate the bow hand, there would be silence, as the bow would be rotated away from the cello and not in contact with the instrument. We used the term (incorrectly) to refer to the condition of the hand when it is not “pronated.”
Pronation:
There are also some confusing thoughts about the position of the wrists, some people suggest “flat”, some others “bent.” It is important that the wrist is flexible in order to avoid tension, but a very important consideration is what maintaining any position that isn’t “neutral” puts stress on the tendons that control the fingers where they pass through the wrist as bent either up or down puts pressure on the tendons within the wrist. Here is a depiction of the wrist in neutral position.
There are lots of examples of such ambiguities in cello land. In the mid-1950s, Luigi Silva and Rudolf Matz were working on a treatise to address these kinds of issues. Sadly, it was never completed due to Silva’s untimely death. (Is there a timely death?) Such questions…
Some time ago, I tracked down Margery Enix’s book on Matz (which I finished a while back), and then I found copies of the late editions of some of Matz’s Etudes at the Soundpost in Toronto (some are also available from Shar). I had worked a bit with Lev Aronson as a child, and later visited with him a few times as a young man on visits back to my native Texas. He had come to the Berlin Ballet at the Metropolitan Opera where I was playing one summer (and was present at the infamous “murder at the Met” performance), and we were on the same flight to Dallas afterward. Lev had published 2 volumes of “the Complete Cellist” in the mid 1970s on which he had collaborated with Matz. I had several other indirect connections to Matz, as well, Aldo Parisot (with whom I studied) had worked with Matz’s earlier collaborator, Luigi Silva, and I had worked with Antonio Janigro, who was a close colleague of Matz’s for over 2 decades in Zagreb.
Matz was a great teacher and theoretician of the cello, as proclaimed by Rose, Starker, and many others. Unfortunately, it is very hard to find his music, as much has been out of print, yet is still protected by copyright (I think he passed away in 1988). Among the many young players who are his musical children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, you can count some wonderful cellists.
Matz addressed both the technical and the musical in his work, but he addressed them in parallel. His Etudes are not like Franchomme, Chopin, or Liszt, many are actually short exercises for the fingers based on the “Gemignani Grips” concept, which is explained in the Matz/Aronson collaboration based on Matz’s work in “the Complete Cellist,” and more elaborately in Margery Enix’s book on Matz. Other methods have employed similar concepts, but he was the first to deal with training a young cellist in such a way as to avoid injury (such as Focal Dystonia) through exercises based on a deep understanding of the anatomical/ physiological issues involved. At the same time, he is training the ear through the tonalities he uses, clefs, and the conceptual (as Starker makes reference to) such as the “geography” of the fingerboard. In tandem with the Etudes, he published pieces that use the recently learned (via the Etudes) techniques in a musical setting, sometimes in ensemble works for multiple cellos. In this regard, there is an inimitable relationship of technique to music. They are always intricately (but subtly) related. I suggest the 54 Etudes for young hands and 25 Etudes (lower positions) in particular.
Recently, I got out the cello after a couple weeks neglect and decided to go through some of these etudes. All I can say is wow, what great materials! Musically simple, pleasant, and succinct, they are so well considered in terms of developing technique, at least as far as I have gotten in them, including those concerned with the introduction of thumb position. There are a few small errors (missing accidentals), but they are just tremendous for what they seek to do.
I can understand why Janigro, Silva, Starker, and Rose (among others) considered him to be the greatest theoretician of the cello. It is terrible that these works are not more widely available and used. Really just fantastic tools.
The following is a copy of Luigi Silva’s proposed Treatise, also available (along with many other collections of well-known cellists’ papers) from the UNCG archives.
There is pressure THROUGH the thumb, not FROM the thumb. As you rotate the forearm and hand counterclockwise (pronation), the index finger naturally applies pressure down as the thumb applies pressure upwards. This does not come from squeezing, this comes from rotation, and it is applying the weight of the arm into the string. My thumb is flexible, but from a position of being slightly bent. While there are many small variations as to how to hold the bow, the basic principles of leverage and flexibility are common to all effective bow holds.
The Thumb and forefinger create a class 3 lever system, which allows us to apply the weight of the arm into the string.
A class 3 lever system:
object (string) force (index finger) fulcrum (thumb)
I use a hold that I learned from Antonio Janigro, and which was also used by Rostropovich, and occasionally by Harvey Shapiro and Lynne Harrell. Due to its location on the frog, it expands the size of the fulcrum, which increases leverage, and it puts the thumb against a smoother and more comfortable area of the frog than many cellists utilize.
While I like this very much, and find it very comfortable, it really isn’t different as to how it functions from a traditionally taught hold, as you move from the frog towards the tip, the right elbow rises and the forearm rotates, causing the hand to pronate. This pronation in turn focusses the weight of the arm/hand/bow into the string via leverage. What the hold pictured above does accomplish is that it increases the potential leverage by increasing the area over which the hand rotates by @21%.
top picture is of a “typical” bow hold
Bottom picture is the one I use.
Both photos were taken with the camera mounted in exactly the same position and the bow held in a fixed position (exactly the same)
In measuring the two circles in the pictures above, I found that the top example of a typically placed thumb created a circle with a circumference of 3 3/16 inches, and the second (alternative) placement created one of 3 14/16 (these measurements are relative to the scaling of the photos, not an absolute measure, but accurate for comparison). This is an increase of 21.4%. If one applies the same degree of rotation to each example, as one does approaching the upper part of the bow, the hold in the bottom photo creates more leverage, a greater application of arm/hand/bow weight into the string in the upper part of the bow.
There is no avoiding the bow change, only minimizing the effect of it in sound. The elements we have with which to address the change of bow direction are bow speed, pressure on the string (weight), angle of the bow in relation to the bridge and the string, and proximity to the bridge/fingerboard. Of these characteristics of bow usage, the first 3 are most relevant to the bow change. The “whipping wrist and fingers” that many teach has the tendency to speed up the bow and change the relationship of the bow/string angle in less than expert hands. If this is done with perfect control of the release of pressure it can work. But in my 50 years of observation, it is often not well done and often makes things worse. Of course, in the hands of a brilliant musician like Leonard Rose, this is extremely effective. Sadly, few of us are so extraordinarily gifted.
In my opinion, the less unnecessary motion of the fingers, wrist, and arm at the bow change, the better the outcome for most people. Lightening up the pressure/weight around the instant of the bow change and flexibility of the joints is a useful in this regard. There will always be some reaction of the fingers and wrist, but if this does not interrupt the plane of travel of the bow, the bow angle, etc., it is not a problem.
I was at a violin masterclass with Broadus Earle many years ago when he addressed bow changes. He made the point that even light shined on a mirror stops for a minuscule amount of time as it changes direction. Can we see that? No. How does that relate to the bow change? Like light on the mirror, the bow must stop as it changes. We cannot alter that fact, but we can train ourselves to have maximum control of the elements of bowing to minimize this. I have seen many approaches that suggest different motions at the point of change (circles, figure 8s, “shock absorber,” flipping the wrist), which when executed by great players (like Rose, for instance) are impeccable. Unfortunately, most people when doing these things cannot do them well- most of us are not Leonard Rose. The problem seems to me is that in many cases this extra motion causes a change in bow speed, the plane of the bow, pressure and/or direction that actually increases the sound of the change. Practicing slow scales with a drone string can help with bow control. When you play 2 strings simultaneously, the plane of the bow must be consistent, and when done with a metronome, the speed can be observed by comparing bow distribution relative to the beats; this is fundamental to consistent control of the bow, whether you are concerned with bow changes, or shaping a phrase. Once you can play with absolute control of the speed, pressure, and the plane of the bow, you can then vary those elements with greater mastery and more sophisticated musicianship.
You need to be able to sense the string surface and the way it resists moving with your fingers through the bow. Janigro made a particular point of this, too. Some people will say “carve” the sound, and if you really know how to use a knife when cooking, that is a useful image.
Bow techniques (Sevcik)
Orlando Cole and Lynn Harrell
Piatigorsky
(up- and down-bow staccato)
Just a few brilliant performances with great playing
Some explanation of how music for the cello is notated
The music for cello is commonly written in three clefs, bass (or F clef), tenor (or C clef), and treble (or G clef). When we first begin the cello, our music is in bass clef, as it neatly contains all of the notes in first position. As we develop, we begin to play a larger range of pitches, and the notes begin to go above the top notes of the bass clef. Composers use these other clefs in order to avoid lots of additional lines above the five lines of the staff (leger lines) that would be required in order to stay in the bass clef. This makes reading music easier, once you are familiar with these clefs. Then there is the “false” treble clef…
Bass Clef
Bass clef is known as F clef because the two dots to the right outline the note F. In bass clef, Middle C is on leger line above the staff. Bass clef is used for the lower register of the instrument, and this is similar to the bass human voice. The lowest note on the cello is the open C string, and that is noted two leger lines below the staff, and the bass clef is commonly used to notate from low C up to G above middle C, which is three leger lines above the staff.
Tenor Clef
The tenor clef is known as a C clef because the center of the clef is on the note middle C. In bass clef, this note is one leger line above the staff, and in treble clef it is one line below the top line of the staff. Tenor clef makes it easier to notate the cello’s mid-high range without a lot of leger lines. The notes in tenor clef are written a fifth lower than they appear in the bass clef. My first cello teacher introduced it to me in this way: imagine your A string is broken and you have to play everything on the D string (only it’s really your A string). You can try playing beginner level music that you already have which should be on the A string up to F above middle C. Play it on the D string. This will give you a mental image of the fingerboard for tenor clef, as the difference is a fifth, the same interval we tune our strings to. So when you see that F 2 lines above bass clef and you play it on the D string, it is right next to the C that is 2 lines above Tenor clef, so the notes look the same and relate to the notes around them the same way, you are just playing them a little further to the left.
Treble Clef
As mentioned before, middle C is one leger above the bass clef staff, but that note is one leger line below the the staff in treble clef, and it is used when we are required to play in the instrument’s highest registers. It is called the G clef because the circular part of the shape of the clef surrounds the line where G is written within the staff (the second line up from the bottom of the staff).
“False” Treble Clef
Certain publishers of the nineteenth century used the “false treble” clef, where the treble clef is notated an octave higher than it is played. I was involved in a conversation amongst music engravers regarding it the the other day, and it turns out that there is a specific convention using treble clef for cello during this era amongst publishers (almost all German). If the treble was employed in the context of a passage that also used tenor clef, it was to be played as written, if it was isolated (not in the context of a passage with tenor clef), then the “octave lower than written” applies. I’m sure it was a convenience to whoever was writing down music, but I hate it…
Intonation is about math. Many people feel that it can be “expressive” in that a solo line can be inflected subtly to exaggerate harmonic gravity The sense of a note “pulling” towards another, but in ensembles in most western classical music, it is all about the math of sum and difference tones. For me, this would include playing solo, as our instruments have natural resonances that can be enhanced by intonation that exploits it. Intonation is dependent on which combination of notes is played, because the pleasing set of combined tones (not just the notes played but their interactions) is what we like. Exploiting it can also increase resonance and projection.
When you play a note, you are shortening the string. This is due to the physics of a string, the lower the note, the longer the string, the higher the note, the shorter the string. It is not linear. A piano has the strings set to particular pitches and you push buttons that are equally sized and spaced apart. If you look at the frets on a guitar, you can see that they are closer together the higher the pitches are.
If you feel that you are uncertain where notes are, you need to spend time with scales, slow scales, so you can really pay attention to what is going on with your body and the instrument. Eventually your mental map of the fingerboard improves. It can be very helpful to play drone open strings with your slow scale work, ie, when you finger notes on the C string, play them together with the open G, when you play on the G string-open D, when you play on the D string, open A, and when you play of the A string, play open D. Of course, the sum and difference tones will be somewhat distorted depending on what combinations you are playing, but it is a reasonable way to work on the mental map.
Learning the notes, as Starker often remarked, is a matter of learning the map of the fingerboard. By this he meant a mental map of the fingerboard. Once you understand a position, it is mapped in your mind. I don’t think this is especially visual, as you need to understand how intervals relate to one another in a position. This is especially true in thumb position. Once you understand the tonal relationships accessible within a position, training the balance of the hand to maximize that access and minimize tension is feasible. So it really comes down to a combination of mental mapping of the fingerboard and training the ear to accurately hear the pitch.
I would add that there are no muscles in the fingers, they are controlled entirely by long tendons that are attached to muscles that are attached at the elbow. To maintain the position of the hand in the “holding an apple” metaphor takes a small amount of strength, and it should feel reasonably relaxed to do so. if the position of the hand and fingers is good, then a slight rotation of the forearm accomplishes most of what is required to put the fingers down and pick them up, a small flick of the tendons and it is complete. Squeezing and putting fully down more fingers than the finger required for the current note only adds tension and compromises control. It takes a good deal of time to master these things with consistency, so be patient. Scales are an excellent way to build this, as there is little to distract one’s focus from the technique.
When the arm approaches the neck at the correct angle to use rotation/leverage of the forearm to shift the weight of the arm and hand into the finger that is playing, it takes very little pressure to stop the string. The wrist should always be in neutral position, which lowers tension on the tendons that control the fingers where they pass through the wrist. The base knuckles of the hand should be arched such that the palm and thumb do not collapse. look at the 2 minute mark in the video below (which is about bow technique, but you will see how the fingers should work best in upper positions)
neutral position of wrist
Lynn Harrell on left hand pressure
There are a number of factors that effect the placement of fingers for intonation. The typical height of the A string above the end of the fingerboard is 4-5.5mm, and the C is 7-8.5mm. The higher the pitch of the string, the shorter its transit is, the lower the pitch, the greater its transit. Transit means the complete distance the string travels in a single cycle that produces its pitch. Because of the difference in transit, all of the strings are a different height above the fingerboard, which means that if you press them down to the fingerboard at exactly the same distance from the nut on the different strings, you will distort the pitch of the highest string less than the lowest string, meaning the fifths will be out of tune (the lower the string, the sharper it will be). In addition, each of your finger pads is a different shape and thickness, so this also influences what happens when you put your fingers down (especially if you are stopping a fifth with one finger). So many complications…
Many inexpensive instruments have necks (and more commonly fingerboards) that flex and twist as you play, which really makes intonation a moving target. This can be addressed, as if the fingerboard is not ebony, that can be changed, which will stiffen the neck, and some makers these days put a carbon fiber rod in the neck to stiffen it and add resonance.
There are strings that respond to changes in bow pressure and speed with changes in pitch more than others. In general, higher tension strings of smaller gauge resist this change in pitch much better that lower tension, thicker gauge strings do. They are also much more responsive to articulation. Refer to my post on strings for more information on this topic.
I have used a variety of tuner apps with different settings, and I think it is a mistake to obsess on the “cents” too much, a strobe setting is sometimes less disruptive. I usually tune the open A to the tuner, then tune the rest by ear (those sum and difference tones!). Some instruments seem more sensitive than others in that if you tune all the strings one by one, you might find that the bridge and tailpiece fluctuations that result from the string movements might alter the original A, so it might take a little time to get it all balanced.
Use weight/leverage more than muscle/tendon power to put fingers down. Remember, there are no muscles in the fingers, so the muscles that move your finger are in the arm near the elbow. If you use these too much, of course the hand is tense. If you press more than just the finger that is playing down, you are raising tension in the arm/hand/fingers and you are wasting the weight and leverage available. So, that’s what not to do and why.
So, what should you be doing instead? Think of the forearm, it has 2 bones in it. What does that mean for cello playing? It means that the forearm can rotate without any use of the upper arm or shoulder. When you play a note with the first finger, the forearm should rotate slightly clockwise (from the perspective of your elbow). This shifts the weight of the arm and hand toward the first finger. When you play a note with the 4th finger, you should rotate the hand somewhat counterclockwise, so that the weight of the arm goes into the 4th finger. Two things are accomplished by this, the motion of rotating the arm in the direction of the finger that will play releases the arm weight from the finger that was playing and shifts it to the finger that will be playing, and the motion itself moves the finger towards the string. As a result, more weight goes into the finger and the string (at the same time, tension is released from the other finger), and less effort is required to place the finger on the string.
Some cellists are unused to thinking about playing the cello this way, so you need to train yourself to accomplish this with slow, deliberate practice. Scale work is an excellent place to work on this, in addition to your practice of passagework. Another thing to bear in mind is that you do not need to press the string down into the fingerboard in order for the notes to sound clearly in most cases, especially the further you go from first position, as the string is most flexible in the middle.
Look at the video of Lynn Harrell in this link below. He is demonstrating spiccato, but he makes a point about the pressure required for the string to sound.
Fingerings
Generally speaking, we choose fingerings to make playing a passage as simple and efficient as possible. Most western music is about scale-like melodies or implied harmony (arpeggiation). Knowing the patterns of the scales and arpeggios goes a long way into being able to recognize these patterns in pieces that we play and finger them accordingly. However, there are many times when playing a passage on one string has a much more homogenous effect that is desirable. The choice then of when to shift is sometimes merely practical, sometimes entirely musical.
Playing fifths
There are a number of factors that effect the placement of fingers for playing fifths. The typical height of the A above the end of the fingerboard is 4.5-5.5mm, and the C is 7.5-8.5mm. The higher the pitch of the string, the shorter its transit is, the lower the pitch, the greater its transit. Transit means the complete distance the string travels in a single cycle that produces its pitch. Because of the difference in transit, all of the strings are a different height above the fingerboard, which means that if you press them down to the fingerboard at exactly the same distance from the nut on the different strings, you will distort the pitch of the highest string less than the lowest string, meaning the fifths will be out of tune if they are exactly parallel (the lower the string, the sharper it will be). In addition, each of your finger pads is a different shape and thickness, so this also influences what happens when you put your fingers down (especially if you are stopping a fifth with one finger). These things distort the relative location of the pitches, so it is never perfectly parallel from string to string.
Many cheap cellos also have necks/fingerboards that are too soft, which means the neck is unstable, making any double-stops unreliable. You need to experiment with these parameters in mind to find a solution that works for a particular passage.
More shifting
We shift from position to position, not finger to finger. It takes time to develop reliable muscle memory and to build an effective mental map of the fingerboard. Conceptualizing the positions is very important. Timing of shifts and understanding the mechanics of shifting are important, and many great teachers have suggested that introducing the upper positions early is important.
Scales and Arpeggios
The best thing about scales and arpeggios is that they give you the opportunity to focus entirely on technical matters without “musical” considerations. Memorization, phrasing, analysis, etc. are not relevant. Arpeggios are all about learning the topography of the fingerboard, in every key. You have to cover a lot of territory, so how you shift (early and slow motion, no matter the tempo) is everything (ditto bow control of string crossings). You must train your concentration to control your body accurately in space and time, if your mind wanders, that tells you that you are not working on this correctly. When you are in performance, how well you have trained this mind/body connection is what is going to give you success, so you really must consider how you approach technical practice. Arpeggios are prominent features in standard concerto repertoire (Haydn D, Schumann, Brahms Double) and standard orchestral repertoire (Wagner, Strauss). This will matter a lot, if you work on it properly.
The middle finger offers much better flexibility for playing most pizzicato. Remember that the string works best when pulled side to side (like the bow does) and not up and down (unless you are supposed to make a “Bartok pizz” -type sound). Having your right hand supinated (rotated clockwise) gives you the most natural approach as the finger is designed to move most easily in this direction (up and down- like playing the piano, but side to side when rotated). This also allows you to hold the bow securely (but easily) with the other fingers while playing pizz.
Do NOT play near the bridge, the string is least flexible and responsive there, and it sounds ugly. The most flexibility of the string is at the midpoint, but that point changes depending on where your left fingers are on the string. For this reason, the easiest place is a few inches up the fingerboard with your thumb touching the side of the fingerboard for stability. Look for videos of jazz bass players like Ray Brown, they are the best models to emulate for pizz for cellists.
An important consideration is the regular practice of pizz so that our right hand fingertips and thumb are able to pizz without discomfort. It takes a while to build up the calluses that protect our skin from the friction endemic to playing pizz. When I was playing in a piano trio for many years, anytime we would program the Shostakovich Piano Trio in E minor, I would practice playing fortissimo 4 note chords with the thumb daily for weeks in advance, otherwise I could not perform this work without great pain. There are many pieces in the larger repertoire for cello for which we must be prepared to play pizz without pain.
Considerations of practing, including both research into learning and traditional teaching methods
One must find a way to prioritize practice time, and be very efficient with its use. Make that time your first priority and everything else fits around it. Every time you practice, you should have a specific goal in mind, and focus on that until you have achieved it.
Playing through a piece is not practicing. At the same time, it is wasteful to stop every time there is a problem. The most efficient way to practice is to divide up the piece you are working on into sections. The most productive goals to maintain are those you establish when you sit down to practice, every time. You should never play anything in practice without a specific goal. With each repetition, you need a specific purpose, indeed, you should not repeat anything without one.
Work with a metronome. As you work through a section, remember what issues you had the first time you went through it. Stop and consider what happened and what you need to do to correct it. If you cannot fix it the second time, slow the tempo down. If you still can’t fix it at the slower tempo, isolate each problem and slow it down further. Once you have solved a problem and can play it correctly 3 times in a row, then expand the isolated section back to the full section in the same tempo. Play it right 3 times in a row and then speed the tempo up. When you have the section in good shape at the tempo you want to achieve that day, move on to the next section. Make notes of the tempos you achieve each day and start the next session a couple of tempo markings slower than you reached the time before and proceed as before.
Longer term goals and timelines tend to be somewhat squishy, they are nice to have, but the timeframe often needs adjustment, either you meet the goal earlier than expected, or for various reasons, it takes longer than assumed. Say you have a recital/audition/competition scheduled, and that is a goal. Preparing for it takes planning and strategy to achieve a successful outcome. Aside from such goals, from week to week, you just want to get better. If you never play anything in practice without a specific goal in mind, every week you will be better. Goals achieved!
Recent brain research indicates that the most productive learning takes place if you stop your activity (in this case, practicing) after 25 minutes and take a five minute break. The brain can effectively process and store information best in this size segment. So, set a timer for your practice, set your goal for that time, get to work, and when the timer goes off, set it for 5 minutes. I started doing this after reading a couple of pieces on the research, and it really seems to work. It is also good for your body to break up the work this way, especially if you go back and work on something with a different set of physical challenges for the next segment.
tips for learning From the New York Times:
The studio for what is arguably the world’s most successful online course is tucked into a corner of Barb and Phil Oakley’s basement, a converted TV room that smells faintly of cat urine. (At the end of every video session, the Oakleys pin up the green fabric that serves as the backdrop so Fluffy doesn’t ruin it.)
This is where they put together “Learning How to Learn,” taken by more than 1.8 million students from 200 countries, the most ever on Coursera. The courseprovides practical advice on tackling daunting subjects and on beating procrastination, and the lessons engagingly blend neuroscience and common sense.
Dr. Oakley, an engineering professor at Oakland University in Rochester, Mich., created the class with Terrence Sejnowski, a neuroscientist at the Salk Institute for Biological Studies, and with the University of California, San Diego.
Prestigious universities have spent millions and employ hundreds of professionally trained videographers, editors and producers to create their massive open online courses, known as MOOCs. The Oakleys put together their studio with equipment that cost $5,000. They figured out what to buy by Googling “how to set up a green screen studio” and “how to set up studio lighting.” Mr. Oakley runs the camera and teleprompter. She does most of the editing. The course is free ($49 for a certificate of completion — Coursera won’t divulge how many finish).
“It’s actually not rocket science,” said Dr. Oakley — but she’s careful where she says that these days. When she spoke at Harvard in 2015, she said, “the hackles went up”; she crossed her arms sternly by way of grim illustration.
This is home-brew, not Harvard. And it has worked. Spectacularly. The Oakleys never could have predicted their success. Many of the early sessions had to be trashed. “I looked like a deer in the headlights,” Dr. Oakley said. She would flub her lines and moan, “I just can’t do this.” Her husband would say, “Come on. We’re going to have lunch, and we’re going to come right back to this.” But he confessed to having had doubts, too. “We were in the basement, worrying, ‘Is anybody even going to look at this?’”
Dr. Oakley is not the only person teaching students how to use tools drawn from neuroscience to enhance learning. But her popularity is a testament to her skill at presenting the material, and also to the course’s message of hope. Many of her online students are 25 to 44 years old, likely to be facing career changes in an unforgiving economy and seeking better ways to climb new learning curves.
Dr. Oakley’s lessons are rich in metaphor, which she knows helps get complex ideas across. The practice is rooted in the theory of neural reuse, which states that metaphors use the same neural circuits in the brain as the underlying concept does, so the metaphor brings difficult concepts “more rapidly on board,” as she puts it.
She illustrates her concepts with goofy animations: There are surfing zombies, metabolic vampires and an “octopus of attention.” Hammy editing tricks may have Dr. Oakley moving out of the frame to the right and popping up on the left, or cringing away from an animated, disembodied head that she has put on the screen to discuss a property of the brain.
Sitting in the Oakleys’ comfortable living room, with its solid Mission furniture and mementos of their world travels, Dr. Oakley said she believes that just about anyone can train himself to learn. “Students may look at math, for example, and say, ‘I can’t figure this out — it must mean I’m really stupid!’ They don’t know how their brain works.”
Her own feelings of inadequacy give her empathy for students who feel hopeless. “I know the hiccups and the troubles people have when they’re trying to learn something.” After all, she was her own lab rat. “I rewired my brain,” she said, “and it wasn’t easy.”
As a youngster, she was not a diligent student. “I flunked my way through elementary, middle school and high school math and science,” she said. She joined the Army out of high school to help pay for college and received extensive training in Russian at the Defense Language Institute. Once out, she realized she would have a better career path with a technical degree (specifically, electrical engineering), and set out to tackle math and science, training herself to grind through technical subjects with many of the techniques of practice and repetition that she had used to let Russian vocabulary and declension soak in.
Along the way, she met Philip Oakley — in, of all places, Antarctica. It was 1983, and she was working as a radio operator at the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station. (She has also worked as a translator on a Russian trawler. She’s been around.) Mr. Oakley managed the garage at the station, keeping machinery working under some of the planet’s most punishing conditions.
She had noticed him largely because, unlike so many men at the lonely pole, he hadn’t made any moves on her. “You can be ugly as a toad out there and you are the most popular girl,” she said. She found him “comfortably confident.” After he left a party without even saying hello, she told a friend she’d like to get to know him better. The next day, he was waiting for her at breakfast with a big smile on his face. Three weeks later, on New Year’s Eve, he walked her over to the true South Pole and proposed at the stroke of midnight. A few weeks after that, they were “off the ice” in New Zealand and got married.
Dr. Oakley recounts her journey in both of her best-selling books: “A Mind for Numbers: How to Excel at Math and Science (Even if You Flunked Algebra)” and, out this past spring, “Mindshift: Break Through Obstacles to Learning and Discover Your Hidden Potential.” The new book is about learning new skills, with a focus on career switchers. And yes, she has a MOOC for that, too.
Dr. Oakley is already planning her next book, another guide to learning how to learn but aimed at 10- to 13-year-olds. She wants to tell them, “Even if you are not a superstar learner, here’s how to see the great aspects of what you do have.” She would like to see learning clubs in school to help young people develop the skills they need. “We have chess clubs, we have art clubs,” she said. “We don’t have learning clubs. I just think that teaching kids how to learn is one of the greatest things we can possibly do.
Four Techniques to Help You Learn
FOCUS/DON’T The brain has two modes of thinking that Dr. Oakley simplifies as “focused,” in which learners concentrate on the material, and “diffuse,” a neural resting state in which consolidation occurs — that is, the new information can settle into the brain. (Cognitive scientists talk about task-positive networks and default-mode networks, respectively, in describing the two states.) In diffuse mode, connections between bits of information, and unexpected insights, can occur. That’s why it’s helpful to take a brief break after a burst of focused work.
TAKE A BREAKTo accomplish those periods of focused and diffuse-mode thinking, Dr. Oakley recommends what is known as the Pomodoro Technique, developed by one Francesco Cirillo. Set a kitchen timer for a 25-minute stretch of focused work, followed by a brief reward, which includes a break for diffuse reflection. (“Pomodoro” is Italian for tomato — some timers look like tomatoes.) The reward — listening to a song, taking a walk, anything to enter a relaxed state — takes your mind off the task at hand. Precisely because you’re not thinking about the task, the brain can subconsciously consolidate the new knowledge. Dr. Oakley compares this process to “a librarian filing books away on shelves for later retrieval.”
As a bonus, the ritual of setting the timer can also help overcome procrastination. Dr. Oakley teaches that even thinking about doing things we dislike activates the pain centers of the brain. The Pomodoro Technique, she said, “helps the mind slip into focus and begin work without thinking about the work.”
“Virtually anyone can focus for 25 minutes, and the more you practice, the easier it gets.”
PRACTICE
“Chunking” is the process of creating a neural pattern that can be reactivated when needed. It might be an equation or a phrase in French or a guitar chord. Research shows that having a mental library of well-practiced neural chunks is necessary for developing expertise.
Practice brings procedural fluency, says Dr. Oakley, who compares the process to backing up a car. “When you first are learning to back up, your working memory is overwhelmed with input.” In time, “you don’t even need to think more than ‘Hey, back up,’ ” and the mind is free to think about other things.
Chunks build on chunks, and, she says, the neural network built upon that knowledge grows bigger. “You remember longer bits of music, for example, or more complex phrases in French.” Mastering low-level math concepts allows tackling more complex mental acrobatics. “You can easily bring them to mind even while your active focus is grappling with newer, more difficult information.”
KNOW THYSELF Dr. Oakley urges her students to understand that people learn in different ways. Those who have “racecar brains” snap up information; those with “hiker brains” take longer to assimilate information but, like a hiker, perceive more details along the way. Recognizing the advantages and disadvantages, she says, is the first step in learning how to approach unfamiliar material.
Her lessons were usually on a particular work or piece. She wrote the date by hand in the upper right hand corner. There are seven columns and 23 rows. Columns 1 and 2 have no heading. Column 1 is the list. The others are all blank. She filled in the month/day in the boxes where the criteria were met and put an x in boxes for what was discussed in the lesson. Columns 3 – 7 are headed with roman numerals for movements of the work. The 23 rows are separated by a double line in four sub rows with four groups of criteria. First group: 1. Notes, 2. Rhythms, 3. Fingerings, 4. Bowings, 5. Memory, 6. Intonation. Second group: 1. History, 2. Score, 3. Structure/Character, 4. Dynamics/Balance, 5. Pacing/Ensemble. Third: 1. Strokes, 2. Vibrato, 3. Shifting, 4. Articulation, 5. Coordination, 6. Violin Sound. Fourth: 1. Stance, 2. Violin position, 3. Bow Grip and Arm, 4. Left Hand position, 5. Head, 6. Face and Breathing
Shifting is the term we use to name the process of moving the left hand from one position on the cello to another position. Looking at the fingerboard provides neither clue or guidance. When people are performing, they may not wish to look at the audience because it is distracting or makes them nervous, so I would never presume they look in the direction of the fingerboard because they need to see their shifts. If they had to look in order to shift, they probably wouldn’t be on stage…
Shifting is about timing and balance. When we play a note, the weight of the arm should be balanced so that the forearm rotates slightly in the direction of the finger that is playing, and simultaneously the elbow must be at an angle such that this is possible. This allows the weight of the arm and hand to be applied effectively on the finger that is playing. When shifting to higher positions on any string, you must raise the elbow slightly in anticipation of the new position, as the shape of the cello requires this once we approach the body of the instrument. Once the elbow is in position for the new position, it is simply a matter of opening the elbow a bit to move the hand into the new position. Anticipation by definition means that these things take place before the change in position. To fully anticipate an upward shift, imagine first that the note preceding the new position is divided in half (in your mind). As you begin the note before the shift begins, raise the elbow to the plane it needs to be on in the new position (this releases some tension in the hand and weight from the finger). Halfway through the note before the new position, begin to move the hand at such a speed that the hand arrives at the new note in time for the new note to sound. This needs to be practiced very slowly with a metronome until the brain understands the timing, and the body is well coordinated. If you want to hear the shift, you keep the bow at the same speed and pressure throughout the shift (it is useful to do this until you have the timing and the coordination well trained), and if you do not want to hear the shift, you release the pressure of the bow and slow it down during the shift. Varying this combination of speed and pressure with the bow is how we make variety in our shifts. Once mastered, there are variations in this (such as the delayed shift, where the slide happens at the time the new note is to sound and the new note is slightly delayed as a result. A great pianist will play a melodic note slightly late to everything else as a way to make an espressivo accent. We, of course, can make an espressivo accent by shaping a note with the bow, but I hope you understand how the delayed shift and this piano technique have similar expressive purposes. A good way to practice shifting is to play very slow scales with a metronome set for 2 beats for each note you play (that way the timing of the shift can be disciplined).
Letting go of fear important; shifting is like walking, it is all about balance and pacing. We all can walk (absent disability), and we can all shift with ease, so there is no cause for trepidation.
Many of the great teachers (Rose, Starker, Parisot, Janigro, etc.) distill the principles of playing down to a very basic level. Whether your hand is small or large isn’t relevant, really; the balance of the weight of the arm as applied through the discrete rotation of the forearm, in both the left hand and the right (with somewhat different involvement of the muscles of the back regarding each). For the left hand, rotation equals release of the initial finger’s “pressure” and the application of it to the new finger, the weight of the arm/hand being equal upon each finger in its turn. In the case where the hand is small, rotating the hand reduces the “stretch” in melodic (non-double-stopped) intervals, just as it does for a larger hand, the difference being the amount of rotation and the anticipated distance between the fingers that is required. Moving from one position to another is also a matter of anticipation (minimizing motions that occur during the movement of the hand from one position to another by creating the new position as much as possible in anticipation of the shift). The balance of the hand in the position before the upward shift (typically favoring either the 4th or 3rd finger) is different than that after the shift (typically the 1st finger). Starker and Parisot taught/teach a clockwise-circular motion of the left elbow in anticipation of the shift, which naturally shifts the balance of the hand. I personally feel that this is a good way to get the concept of shifting balance well understood, but it is important that one not introduce too much extraneous motion into the shifting process itself once understood and accomplished, as less extraneous motion equals less likelihood of error.
In general, the downward shift utilizes all of these same considerations, anticipation and the attention to the change of balance of the hand for the two different locations.
Vibrato comes from the elbow, whether it is called arm, wrist, or finger vibrato. These are misleading terms, as people tend to think that they refer to where the vibrato originates. They do not; what the second and third terms mean is that the joint being referred to takes a greater degree of flexibility when employed, producing a varied speed and amplitude particular to that joint’s flexibility. I have seen people demonstrate “wrist vibrato” that was nothing more than the rotation of the 2 bones of the forearm coming from the elbow. Bernard Greenhouse would occasionally employ something close to a true wrist vibrato (moving the hand from the wrist joint) but he employed this very infrequently, only on certain notes of a phrase, and only in lower positions. A very particular color of sound, and not how he normally employed vibrato.
Many other fine cellists sometimes play with the thumb released from the neck, and it is not at all controversial (though some pedants may say so). Look at videos of any cellist whose sound you are fond of. Chances are good that they will release the thumb at least occasionally. The thumb has nothing to do with the vibrato, and it is, if anything, usually the source of trouble when someone has a problem with vibrato.
Vibrato is only very rarely from the rotation of the hand, as the range of speed of oscillation in this manner is very limited. The most flexible vibrato originates from the forearm/elbow, which allows for the greatest range of speed of oscillation and greater ease of connection of the vibrato from note to note. Any forearm rotation that occurs should be incidental. It is always most efficient to use the largest possible muscle for the action at hand, as there is less energy and effort required to move a large muscle by a small amount than a small one a large amount, so by using the forearm to initiate the vibrato, this efficiency is possible. This concept of muscle use is an important aspect of Casal’s legacy.
In order to produce a “legato” vibrato, one that continues evenly from finger to finger without interruption when playing a melody, it is necessary to have a very consistent balance of the weight of the arm and hand regarding the finger that is playing. The thumb can be used as a pivot point, or can be released from the neck entirely as one gains greater mastery. Putting the fingers down is not just about using muscles to place the finger, it also includes a slight rotation of the forearm (and hand) so that the arm weight is balanced on the finger that is playing. To include vibrato with this action, one must first have consistent control of this balance. As vibrato is the linear action of the forearm that moves the finger pad down and up the string to change the pitch fractionally, it must be carefully coordinated with the action of placing the fingers. Ideally, the motion of vibrato is independent of that of placing (and displacing) of the fingers on the string such that it can be continued even while the fingers/notes change, creating a consistent quality of sound (and therefore easily varied) through any phrase as desired. The other benefit of this is a very relaxed and flexible left hand, as you cannot achieve this consistency with much tension in the hand.
As arm vibrato comes from the elbow, and pitch change on the cello is linear (following the line of the string), it is necessary that the act of vibrato is also linear. The motion of vibrato is not unlike shifting, in that the forearm moves the hand up or down the fingerboard parallel to the string to effect change in position/pitch. As vibrato is a subtle change in pitch, the motion is much smaller than when changing positions. The basic motion is a slight closing and opening of the elbow that allows for the fingerpad to move slightly on the string to alter the pitch. It is most often taught that the finger first establishes the pitch in its initial contact with the string and then descends and returns to the pitch. How wide the change in pitch is is determined by the amount of the fingerpad that comes in contact with the string. Some people have huge fingerpads (like Bernard Greenhouse or Lynn Harrell), so there is not a lot of motion required to accomplish this. Other people have considerably smaller fingerpads, which requires more considerable motion in order to create a similar amplitude. In general, having the hand at a slight angle, such that the base knuckle of the 4th finger is a bit further from the string than that of the first finger (this is as opposed to that school which suggests that the base knuckles be parallel to the string) is better. There are a number of reasons that for most people, the former is a superior approach, but I will not get into that here. As regards the angle of approach of the hand to the fingerboard and vibrato, having this angle in place makes a wider fingerpad contact with the string possible. You can start with the edge of the tip of the finger on the string and descend across the fingerpad at an angle across it, maximizing the area of contact and therefore the amplitude of the vibrato. To move the fingertip on the string, you need both the knuckles of the finger and the wrist to be flexible, as you pull and push the hand from the elbow (NOT the shoulder). This should be done very slowly and sound like a glissando, not 2 distinct pitches, top and bottom. It is a good idea to do this with a metronome to practice this in slow motion (not just slowly). Try the metronome set somewhere between 40-60 bpm and imagine that you are playing half note for the top and a half note for the bottom of the pitch. Bear in mind that you never sit on either the top or bottom pitches, you are always in motion. 4th position is a good place to begin. Remember, you are NOT rotating the forearm at all. You are pulling and pushing the fingertip down and up the fingerboard (“pumping” is how Paul Katz describes it in the video example below). Once you can do this easily on all 4 fingers, then make each pitch a quarter note, then 1/8th note, triplet 1/8ths, 1/16th notes, and setuplet 1/16th notes. There is an exercise in Diran Alexanian’s book (available at IMSLP.org) along these lines, though the explanation is not always the most clear. The thumb cannot be tense or stiff, indeed you can see that Yo-Yo Ma (and many other excellent cellists) often plays without his thumb. The thumb is at best a point of reference for the hand, there to guide the fingers and the rotation of the forearm that channels the weight of the arm into the fingers. Pressing with the thumb will only do harm to your playing and limit the freedom of motion of the vibrato
Diran Alexanian on vibrato
In learning to vibrate, it is useful to understand that the goal you are reaching for is a relaxed and balanced left hand, so that as you develop a vibrato motion, one must not lose sight of this.
Vibrato in slow motion (scroll down for the cello)
I have never seen a study such as this that any real scientist would look at and say that it proves something. From what I have seen, these are all flawed in their design. The current authors in question have published other such “studies” before, and while I am certain they are quite sincere in their intent, the results are problematic to me.
In this paper, the vast majority of the oscillation is below the pitch, and if you were to crunch the numbers of the frequencies for either mean or average frequency, it would be below the pitch center intended, not equally on both sides of the pitch which the authors seem to suggest. As to the cellist in this study, the pitch on every finger but the 4th is placed sharp of the intended pitch in the unvibrated note, but thereafter the range of frequencies within the vibrato has what appears to be the same pattern as the violinist. Because it starts sharp, it appears on the graph as being centered on the pitch. Again, if you were to crunch the numbers, it would have the same effect as with the violin, only it would be sharp to the intended pitch because it started out sharp. While this study intends to prove that vibrato is symmetrical around the intended pitch, it fails to accomplish its aim for these reasons.
In one of David Finckel’s videos on the topic, he slows down Fischer-Dieskau singing to study it for speed, width, and relation to pitch. Sounds pretty awful to me slowed down, kind of nauseating. I personally was more enraptured by his nuance (the variety of vibrato) and “musicality” than by his intonation or tone. I found it interesting that when Finckel demonstrates a vibrato in another of these videos equally on both sides of the note (below), he quickly adjusts his finger such that the top of the oscillation pitch goes down a fraction and THEN sounds in tune (at least to me). He makes the vibrato so that the top is only slightly above the pitch. This is consistent with the observations I made of the study above.
To me the controversy is not so much “is it only below the note,” or “equally on both sides of the pitch,” but where the actual pitch is within the oscillation. In this most recent illustration, it is clear that the vibrato is NOT equally on both sides of the note. I practice vibrato every day that I play as part of my warm up, and I focus it on below the note. However, as each person’s hand and finger shapes are different, and each finger does approach the string slightly differently, where the note starts is more dependent on that than anything else (rather than the vibrato’s focus). In my case, my 4th finger curves slightly back, compared to the others, so that when I place that finger on the string it is the upper part of the fingerpad that lands first and the vibrato goes down from there. It may well oscillate slightly above thereafter, but that is the initial action.
Here is a short discussion of vibrato with Paul Katz. He talks about Greenhouse’s approach, which I would amplify a bit. The “angled” approach allows the vibrato to be initiated from the elbow (no involvement of the shoulder whatsoever). Greenhouse used many variations on this gesture to color the sound with variety; more/less flexibility on the finger alters amplitude and speed, as does a more active wrist, etc.
Katz on Greenhouse and hand positions with vibrato:
Another aspect of vibrato involves sum and difference tone math, which accounts for why vibrato makes an instrument (or voice) sound louder. Yes, it’s true! Consider that in the later classical era, when concert halls became more common for the public performance of music (rather than in churches or the residences of nobility), vibrato became much more common because those making use of it were heard more easily. Those singers and string players who employed it projected better into the larger spaces of these new public arenas, and as a result, others soon adopted the practice. The reason that this is so is that the vibrato creates many more complex waveforms in the sound (more “sum and difference tones”) that literally make more sound, as well as more reflected sound (ambience) in the hall. In stringed instruments, this creation of more sound begins within the body of the instrument itself (more complex waveforms within the instrument) as well as how those more dense soundwaves fill the hall.
consideration of aspects of this topic for the cellist
Weight training can hamper your playing. How? Two ways: poor form can cause injury to soft tissues, joints, neck, and spine. Training with heavy weight, even with perfect form, shortens the muscles (that is the principal manner in which they bulk up), which stretches the tendons on both ends of the muscle, putting them on a higher baseline of stress. Stressed tendons damage more easily, and as tendonitis is the most common injury among cellists, we need to engage in this activity with some caution.
Do I mean by this that you should not train with weights, absolutely not! The question becomes how should you train. You need to train so that your muscle system is balanced, as unbalanced structures are prone to injury. Weight lifting does not strengthen the muscles of the shoulder capsule (the 4 muscles of the rotator cuff) and building mass all around them makes them more vulnerable. Strengthening the rotator cuff is difficult to do because of its structure, and it really takes expertise that you won’t find in any gym to do this. Absent this expert guidance, the safest thing to do is use lower amounts of weight with higher repetition and great attention to both form and variety. Don’t rely on a gym rat trainer to give you help, most of them I see in gyms are not competent to protect you from injury. Their interest in too many cases is to bulk you up, which is not our best goal.
Here is a video from a doctor of physical therapy that details how the rotator works and gives lots of useful information how to incorporate this into workouts
There are many considerations in forming an interpretation of a piece of music, the era of its composition, attention to issues of historical style and practice, finding a reliable text to work from, issues of structure, harmony, and counterpoint, and more. But for me, two basic formal features of western classical music that seem too often to be neglected are how to present a coherent narrative for the listener in regard to repetition and development.
As material is repeated, there is the fact that as a repetition, it has two important characteristics for us to acknowledge: the first time you hear something, it is new, and we experience it in just that way, in its unfamiliarity. As it is repeated, it gains in familiarity, yet each repetition has a unique place within the music as it unfolds. As we perform these repeated passages, we have the opportunity to make them unique in a variety of ways. As much or our repertoire shares certain features that derive from nature, principally symmetry and asymmetry, we have the possibility of using these characteristics to both provide variation of expression and in doing so to move the narrative of the piece forward. For example, most phrases in Beethoven are asymmetrical. This makes it easily possible to inflect a repeated phrase differently, say by phrasing it dynamically up and down or down and up to subconsciously clarify its asymmetry for the listener. We can vary the stresses within the phrase. Think of any sentence you wish to speak and say it repeatedly with an accent on a different word each time. That is the idea. On the cello, we have several additional ways of coloring the sound, as well, bow speed and placement, speed and width of vibrato, for example. Below is a funny example of variety and repetition from the celebration of Shakespeare’s 400th birthday.
I was trained as a “modern” cellist, most of my career was on modern instruments with endpins and metal strings, always exploring any new developments in each, and more. But as a modern player, I also studied scores, searching for authoritative “urtext” editions, manuscripts, and first editions of the “standard” repertoire. The idea was to seek understanding of a composer’s intent, and exploring the context of the period in which they lived and worked. I was often frustrated with learning Bach’s Solo Suites, especially as I grew up playing in an orchestra that specialized in the Cantatas, and there just seemed so many discrepancies between this music, which had strong foundations in the original texts, and how the Suites appeared in print and was heard in performance.
As a result of this, for me, regarding Bach, the best editor is the one who does the least. Anything that is not in the manuscripts that exist is editorial. Do you want to learn Bach, or someone else’s opinion on what Bach intended? I believe that there is no real choice to a musician who wishes to seek a composer’s intent, you go with the least editing. You don’t seek to interpret an interpretation of an interpretation. That result seems to be more like the result of a game of “telephone.”
[The game of telephone: Players form a line or circle, and the first player comes up with a message and whispers it to the ear of the second person in the line. The second player repeats the message to the third player, and so on. When the last player is reached, they announce the message they just heard, to the entire group. Errors typically accumulate in the retellings, so the statement announced by the last player differs significantly from that of the first player, usually with amusing or humorous effect. It is often invoked as a metaphor for cumulative error, especially the inaccuracies as rumours or gossip spread, or, more generally, for the unreliability of typical human recollection.]
“On November 2016, Bärenreiter Verlag published Bach’s Cello Suites of “New Bach Edition, Revised Edition” (NBA rev. 4 / Editor: Andrew Talle).” This is the most recent edition, yet it contains some errors:
Here is a review of the new Barenreiter Bach Suites (2016). Barenreiter also publishes a synoptic edition the compares line by line the early manuscript copies and the first published edition.
Of these, I prefer the Bach-Gesellschaft Ausgabe (edited by Alfred Dorffel), which was edited by a musicologist/organist, not a cellist. Why is that a good thing? Because decisions about slurs are about being consistent with the preponderance of the extant manuscripts, not someone’s bowing ideas. The parts are very clean (no fingerings). This is this best free download to start with, IMO. You can look at lots of options from the IMSLP list if you need fingerings and bowings, but they often have little to do with what Bach wrote.
Zander Masterclass
WhispelweyMasterclass
I think we must study Bach Choral works, arias from the cantatas (check the cello parts, Bernard Greenhouse played in the Bach Aria Group for years, after all), and the keyboard suites. Fingerings are not that big of a deal, look at the chords and scales and the fingering is usually pretty obvious. If they aren’t, then that is where to concentrate your initial efforts (scales and arpeggios, with a teacher, if possible, but there are many scale/arpeggio books available). Bowings in the Suites are problematic only in that there is no original manuscript from Bach’s own hand, only copies made by others. By looking at the works I suggest, you will see what common types of articulation patterns exist consistently in Bach’s writing for cello (like arpeggiated chords, commonly 3+1 or 1+3, etc., not as commonly 4 (or 8) to a bow as many “modern” editions contain, 2+1+1, et al), but modern cellists rarely seem to do this, even if it is in the existing manuscripts and the Gesellschaft, so any online “tutorial” is likely more of the same distorted stuff. Casals’ “revolution” was to program the Suites in performance (most uncommon at the time), and that you should study them and make them your own, not that you should play them as he himself did. That was Bernard Greenhouse’s experience gained from working with the great Catalan cellist.
By looking at the keyboard works, you see similar patterns of articulation. Bach most often played the keyboard, and I believe that his thinking on articulating in archetypal works like French dance suites (they are “types” by definition) is clear in these works. By listening to great keyboard players in this repertoire, you get a very different idea of tempo, pacing, and consistent articulation. Zander pretty much nails it, in that regard. The suggestions he makes are compelling.
These things are the very basis of what makes Bach’s music what it is: when harmonic rhythm changes, this needs to be clear, ditto a hemiola; how melodic material changes dependent on the chord it occurs within, and where the key changes take place tell us much about the journey we are on, and structurally, where we are within that journey. These are the indicators, the signposts and the scenery on our path, and we need to animate our understanding and our performance with them.
Robert Schumann wrote piano accompaniment to the suites, and it’s available at IMSLP. Antonio Janigro (who had been a student of Diran Alexanian, who published the first widely distributed edition of the Suites containing the Anna Magdalena manuscript facsimile) played the suites on the piano and played the Schumann arrangement from memory in class; very illuminating.
Among the best training for playing Bach is to play the continuo (and solo) parts of the Cantatas and Masses (particularly Arias and Recitatives), followed by the orchestral suites. You can get the music on imslp.org and play along with recordings to get a feel for it. This will give you the sense of the range of articulations (be mindful of the words in this regard!) in the vocal works, and the rhythmic inflection in the Dance movements of the orchestral suites. Then get a clean, un-bowed and un-fingered edition of the Suites and do your own hiking. It isn’t Mt. Everest, it’s the Appalachian Trail.
In the 1980s, my first former mother-in-law (at my suggestion) transcribed the 4th Suite for Harpsichord. I recently found a very old, not very high quality cassette tape (remember those?) of a performance. I attempted to make it reasonably listenable, and the result is linked below. I think it offers an excellent example for cellists to consider thinking about the Bach Suites not as cello pieces, but more as “pure” music.
Beethoven’s five Sonatas for piano and cello offer a magnificent distillation of twenty years of development as a composer into two hours of listening. His mastery of the conventional musical forms and structures of the time was clear from his earliest published works, and that mastery made it possible for him to subvert the listeners’ expectations in ways that would create a radically new expression of emotion in music.
The “original instrument” and “period performance” movements of the second half of the twentieth century gave audiences and performers alike new insight into and experience of the sound of western classical music as it might have been performed historically. Despite those developments, the solemn ritual of modern concert life has little to do with the manner in which much of this music was presented when new. Small-scale chamber works were not often presented in grandconcert halls, but were meant for performance in more intimate environs. The domestic nature of these events was well described by the violinist and composer Ludwig Spohr, and music was often one of many simultaneous entertainments. Conversation, food, wine, card games and music intermingled in the social fabric, and one was free to listen attentively or not, and there could be lively comments made to the players even as they performed.
It was for just such an occasion that the Opus 5 sonatas presented here were written. They were dedicated to King Friedrich Wilhelm II, a gifted amateur cellist for whom Haydn and Mozart composed string quartets with unusually prominent cello parts. These Sonatas served to introduce young Beethoven to Europe’s influential musical society. Beethoven performed these works with the great French cellist Jean-Louis Duport, the solo cellist of the King’sorchestra. In these two works, Beethoven establishes his mastery of the conventional forms even as he utterly defies their conventions. Most of the sonatas of Haydn and Mozart with which Beethoven’s audience would be familiar were cast in three or four movements, and were typically ten to fifteen minutes in length. Both of the Opus 5 Sonatas are twice that duration, and each consists of only two movements. Even more radical is that each begins with an extensive slow introduction, a feature usually employed by Haydn and Mozart in symphonic literature to signify a particularly serious work. More importantly, that attention is richly rewarded as these works unfold. In these two sonatas, dramatic contrasts of volume and mood, and of sound and silence in the introductions serve the purpose of demanding that the audience pay heed. Not a bad idea for a young composer looking to make his way in the world. The first sonata has another unusual characteristic that Beethoven develops further in his “late” works. Nineteen minutes into the first movement, thetempo changes abruptly threetimes within a few seconds, first with a sudden slow echo of the introduction, followed by eighteen extremely fastmeasures before returning tothe original tempo. In the second movement, the tempo becomes much slower for just two measures, again echoing the introduction, just seconds before its conclusion. It is both radical and brilliant. In working on such a large canvas for his “domestic” works, Beethoven set the stage for the “heavenly lengths” of the works of later composers.
By the time he completed the Sonata in A major, twelve years after those of Opus 5, Beethoven was at the peak of his fame. The first four symphonies, nine of the string quartets, and four of the piano concertos were before the public, and his growing deafness had yet to keep him from performing. The A majorsonata is both the most widely performed of these sonatas, and is, at least on the surface, more conventional than its predecessors. It is cast in three movements, but instead of the expected fast-slow-fast progression, its movements proceed as fast, faster, and fast again. The opening movement has a lyricism and generosity of spirit that is reminiscent of the first “Razumovsky” quartet or the later “Archduke” trio. The middle movement, called a scherzo, is not in the form conventionally associated with that term. In place of the clearly defined scherzo-trio-scherzo one might expect, he presents two alternating contrasting themes, the first of which features a melody that begins (and remains) on the “wrong” beat, while the second is more lyrical and more gracefully comported. The last movement is in “sonata” form rather than a rondo, and begins with a slow introduction that at first hearing could seem to be the slow movement one might have expected.
The two sonatas of Opus 102 came into being after the longest period of compositional inactivity of Beethoven’s career. Crises in the personal, physical and professional realms had combined to affect his creative output for almost two years. When he did return to serious work as a composer, his music was transformed. These sonatas contain many of the hallmarks of Beethoven’s later music: the use of counterpoint, the contrast of ethereal, almost ecstatic passages alongside more agitated ones, sudden changes of tempo, and the use of “cyclic” formal elements are all contained in these two brief works.
The first of these sonatas is cast in two movements, and it is the most unconventional, the shortest, and perhaps the most profound of all the sonatas. The entire sonata is shorter than the first movements of either of the Opus 5 sonatas, yet the materials are so diverse and are so perfectly argued and presented that by its conclusion, one has been taken on an extraordinary emotional journey. Beethoven originally labeled it a “free sonata,” and it opens with a serenely lyrical introduction in C major that leads to an allegro in A minor that is by turns furious and ruminative. The second movement opens with a short Adagio that never truly settles into either C or G major before giving way to a brief return of the introduction from the first movement. Finally, the movement settles into an allegro that is equal parts ecstatic and ebullient music.
The D major sonata is Beethoven’s final accompanied sonata of any sort, and it is the only truly conventional work of this set. Its three movements are in the more typical fast-slow-fast arrangement, although the slow movement does connect to the finale without pause. It is with the finale that Beethoven again upturns convention, as the entire movement is a fugue.
Most people don’t think about who it is that makes the music for television, film and recordings. Here are some familiar names in unexpected circumstances
A lot of people don’t realize who some of the great players who played on historic recordings have been over the years. Bernard Greenhouse, Frank Miller, David Soyer, Charles McCracken (principal of the Met after Starker), Harvey Shapiro, Allan Schulman, and George Ricci (Ruggiero’s amazingly talented brother- he could play any of the major violin concerti in the original octave on the cello!) all earned their living for a time in the recording studios of NYC.
Charlie Parker with Strings (Studio recordings of July 1950)
Charlie Parker – alto saxophone; Joseph Singer –french horn; Eddie Brown – oboe; Sam Caplan, Howard Kay, Harry Melnikoff, Sam Rand, Zelly Smirnoff – violins; Isadore Zir – viola; Maurice Brown – cello; Verley Mills – harp; Bernie Leighton– piano; Brown – double bass; Rich – drums; Joe Lipman – arranger and conductor
Coleman Hawkins (with Bernard Greenhouse, George Ricci, and Edgardo Sodero)
When I worked at the Met, I was oftern stand partners with Eddie, where he played cello and was assistant personnel manager.
Sarah Vaughan and Bernard Greenhouse
Edgar Lustgarten (a former pupil of Feuermann’s) and John Williams (yes, THAT John Williams) Prokofiev Sonata
Eric Byers “Agents of Shield” cello soloist
Great quote, “It doesn’t look easy”
It isn’t; just think about it, you have to sightread something that is supposed to sound like a legit concertante-type piece, syncing to a pre-recorded soundtrack and with the actor on screen (who is not playing the music you have to perform). That’s a lot to do! When I was at Yale, I had to improvise some quarter-tone music to an actor on screen playing an instrument that was someone’s idea of what the quarter-tone stringed instrument that Charles Ive’s father invented would look like. It was recorded in an early sound-era tv/film media studio in NYC with a dedicated screen built at an angle above where the orchestra would normally be in the room. That was a lot easier because of what was required of me, I didn’t have to look at music, wear headphones, or play to a track, I just had to make sounds that resembled the actor’s gestures; this fellow had a challenging task; well done.
There have been occasions where the cello played an important role in the theatre
I have been a part of some music theater works featuring cello that are not too well known among cellists, but nevertheless repay one’s attention. For instance, the only show in history with a string section composed entirely of 6 cellos (with 6 different parts):
Stephen Sondheim had heard Victoria De Los Angeles’ recording of Bachianas Brasileiras no 5 and wanted that sound for his show “Anyone Can Whistle,” orchestrated by Don Walker. This is from a 1995 live performance at Carnegie Hall (30 years ago!) with Angela Lansbury (the original star, as narrator), Scott Bakula, Madeline Kahn and Bernadette Peters.
Cellos: Clay Ruede, Frederick Zlotkin, Eugene Moye, Jean Leblanc, Scott Ballantyne, and Ellen Westerman.
In 1985, I played a show called Song and Dance, by Andrew Lloyd-Webber. The first act was a one woman show featuring Bernadette Peters (for which she won her first Toni Award), and the second act was the same story portrayed the first act, only told in dance by Peter Martens, then director of the New York City Ballet. This was set to a concerto for cello and “rock” band based on the 24th Caprice of Paganini (originally penned for his brother, Julian). Features 3 cellos (hard to tell from this ancient hand held video). Oh, the wonders of the youtube…
Cellos: Clay Ruede, Sara Sant’Ambrogio, and Zoe Hassman.
Then there is another Sondheim show, A Little Night Music, which featured a male character who was (an actor pretending to be) a cellist. In the show, the cellist sang this song to a very different purpose. This was re-conceived for Bernadette Peters’ Carnegie Hall Solo Debut as being sung by a woman who was being neglected by her cellist love interest (played by me on this occasion). This fact alone earned some laughs…. The song ends up with her wrapped around my legs and plucking my open C string.
This topic brings to mind a couple of stories. The original production of the “King and I” in 1951 had David Nadien, Joseph Silverstein, and Berl Senofsky in the violins (Silverstein was 19!), and cellists Shirley Trepel and Janos Starker ( Shirley was 1st!). Starker laft the show to do another Broadway show, Menotti’s The Consul as a solo cellist. He speaks of the experience in this excerpt from a NY Times piece from 1982
I worked with Nadien in the NYC studios quite a bit at one point (he was concertmaster for a time under Bernstein at the Philharmonic); his playing was always superb, and he had an elegant, dry wit. Broadus Erle once told me a story about when Nadien showed up at Curtis. In the violin class was Oscar Shumsky, Silverstein, Senofsky, Erle, etc, and it was a highly competitive environment. Apparently Senofsky wanted to put the young Nadien in his place and challenged him to a hot dog eating contest. Bear in mind, Nadien was a little guy, short and slender, and Senofsky was “big-boned.” They ate and ate until at one point Senofsky got sick and threw up. Nadien, in a manner that would define his humor for all time said of the remaining hot dog Senofsky still held, “you gonna finish that?”
Toscanini had 2 cellists on every part, rather than one on a part (which is what is usually done), including Frank Miller, Leonard Rose, Harvey Shapiro, and Alan Schulman (among others)/ / Toscanini/ NBC
Brahms 2nd piano Concerto
Myra Hess/ Leonard Rose/ Bruno Walter
Rudolf Serkin/ Lynn Harrell/ George Szell
Rudolf Buchbinder/ Carter Brey/ Alan Gilbert/ New York Philharmonic
Arthur Rubinstein/ Harvey Shapiro/ Josef Krips/ RCA Victor Symphony
The noir film “Sweet Smell of Success” features lots of cello
The cellist in this scene (also the composer of the tunes in the club scenes) was Fred Katz, with Chico Hamilton’s group. The rest of the soundtrack is basically a cello concerto by Elmer Bernstein played by Eleanor Aller, whose father played in the NY Phil under Mahler and whose sons include Fred Zlotkin (the late principal cellist of NYC Ballet) and the conductor Leonard Slatkin. She was also the cello soloist for the soundtrack of the Cello Concerto (actually by Korngold) for the film Deception (which features the greatest “fake” cello playing by an actor I’ve ever seen, Paul Henreid with the assistance of 2 cellists for the close up scenes one for each hand!).
A member of the Jacobs School of Music faculty since 1966, he founded the Jazz Studies program and served as its chair from 1968 to 2013.
“The Jacobs School and the profession will be eternally indebted to David for what he built, guided and codified,” said Jacobs Dean Gwyn Richards. “He was a distinguished and cherished professor who built our jazz program from the ground up and, through it, influenced generations of artist-teachers. David Baker was the ‘B’ in the ABC of international jazz education: Aebersold (Jamey), Baker and Coker (Jerry). Beloved by colleagues, students and the public, he brought people to his art and, once there, moved and inspired them though his composition, performance and teaching. He is, was and always will be a towering figure in our field.”
“It is almost impossible to comprehend the scope of David’s work and impact as a performer, teacher, composer, band leader and arts advocate,” said Tom Walsh, chair of the Jacobs Jazz Studies Department. “Over the last 50 years, David Baker inspired thousands of music students, educators and musicians. His influence permeates the teaching of jazz music around the globe. David was a brilliant person who was a joy to be around. His humor, his care for people and his great desire to share his knowledge and experience made him a magnet. The encouragement he gave his students gave them the feeling that they could go into the world and do great things. And they did!”
David Nathaniel Baker Jr. was born Dec. 21, 1931, in Indianapolis. He graduated from Crispus Attucks High School in Indianapolis before attending Indiana University, earning a Bachelor of Music Education degree in 1953 and a Master of Music Education degree in 1954. He studied with a wide range of master teachers, performers and composers, including Thomas Beversdorf, Bobby Brookmeyer, Bernhard Heiden, J.J. Johnson, George Russell, William Russo, Gunther Schuller and Janos Starker. Originally a gifted trombonist, he switched to the cello after sustaining jaw injuries in a car accident.
He began his teaching career at Missouri’s Lincoln University in 1955.
Baker was a regular on the thriving Indianapolis jazz scene of the era — especially on its historic Indiana Avenue — with the likes of fellow jazz giants Jimmy Coe, Slide Hampton, Freddie Hubbard, J.J. Johnson, Wes Montgomery, Larry Ridley and David Young. They are all included in the “Jazz Masters of Indiana Avenue” mural on Capitol Avenue in Indianapolis.
He was a member of the Quincy Jones Big Band during its 1960 European tour, beginning a lifelong friendship with the music icon.
Top in his field in several disciplines, Baker taught and performed throughout the United States, Canada, Europe, Scandinavia, Australia, New Zealand and Japan. He co-founded the Smithsonian Jazz Masterworks Orchestra and served as its conductor and musical and artistic director from 1990 to 2012, becoming maestro emeritus on Dec. 1, 2012.
A 1973 Pulitzer Prize nominee, Baker was nominated for a Grammy Award in 1979 and honored three times by DownBeat magazine: as a trombonist, for lifetime achievement and as the third inductee into its Jazz Education Hall of Fame. He received numerous awards, including the National Association of Jazz Educators Hall of Fame Award (1981), IU President’s Award for Distinguished Teaching (1986), Arts Midwest Jazz Masters Award (1990), Governor’s Arts Award of the State of Indiana (1991), American Jazz Masters Award from the National Endowment for the Arts (2000), Indiana Historical Society’s Living Legend Award (2001), James Smithson Medal from the Smithsonian Institution (2002), Emmy Award for his musical score for the PBS documentary “For Gold and Glory” (2003), Living Jazz Legend Award from the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts (2007), Sagamore of the Wabash (2011), IU President’s Medal for Excellence (2012), Satchmo Award from the Louis Armstrong Educational Foundation (2014), City of Bloomington Black History Month Living Legend Award (2015) and five honorary doctorates, including from Oberlin College (2004) and New England Conservatory (2006).
As a composer, Baker was commissioned by more than 100 individuals and ensembles, including Josef Gingold, Harvey Phillips, Ruggiero Ricci, Janos Starker, Beaux Arts Trio, New York Philharmonic, St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, Fisk Jubilee Singers, Louisville Orchestra, Ohio Chamber Orchestra, Audubon String Quartet and International Horn Society. His compositions, tallying more than 2,000 in number, range from jazz pieces and symphonic works to chamber music and film scores.
A dedicated music educator as well as composer and performer, Baker was involved in numerous music organizations. This included membership on the National Council on the Arts; board positions for the American Symphony Orchestra League, Chamber Music America, Arts Midwest and the Afro-American Bicentennial Hall of Fame/Museum; and past chairmanships of the Jazz Advisory Panel to the Kennedy Center and the Jazz/Folk/Ethnic Panel of the National Endowment for the Arts. He was past president and past vice president of the International Association for Jazz Education, past president of the National Jazz Service Organization and senior consultant for music programs for the Smithsonian Institution. He served six times on the Pulitzer Prize Music Jury.
Many of his students became giants of jazz themselves, including Jamey Aebersold, Jim Beard, Chris Botti, Michael and Randy Brecker, John Clayton, Peter Erskine, Jeff Hamilton, Freddie Hubbard, Robert Hurst and Shawn Pelton.
Baker’s prolific body of work includes more than 65 recordings, 70 books and 400 articles.
Jack Bruce
Most well known from his time with the early “supergroup” Cream, he started out as a cellist
Eldon Fox: was an Australian cellist who played with the South Australia Symphony Orchestra under Sir John Barbirolli before coming to Europe in 1951 to study with Pablo Casals. He worked in London with and became principal cellist of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
I have always been fascinated by this, and why pianists (in my experience) often trace their lineage, but that cellists seldom do. I originally laid this out with indentations, which wordpress does not seem to allow, so I have tried to organize this as follows. My various teachers are in bold, their teachers are in italicized bold(with a teacher’s students appearing in italicized parenthesis). Their teacher’s teacher, appears after “studied with”, and their teacher’s teachers appear after “who studied with”. I hope that makes sense!
The lineages are given according to the resources I could find under the circumstance, and are not by and large, duplicated. It is funny to me how many of them go back to Franchomme, whose Etudes and Caprices I recorded (not knowing any of this) 30+ years ago, merely because I thought he was a fascinating guy who wrote some lovely and neglected music.
Bernard Greenhouse Felix Salmond studied with William Whitehouse who studied with Alfredo Piatti who studied with Edouard Jacobs who studied with Joseph Servais Emanuel Feuermann studied with Friedrich Buxbaum who studied with Ferdinand Hellmesberger who studied with Karl Udel who studied with Karl Schlesinger Diran Alexanian studied with Friedrich Grutzmacher(Emil Hegar, Bruno Wilfert, Friedrich Hilpert, Johann Klingenberg, Wilhelm Fitzenhagen, Hugo Becker) studied with Karl Dreschler who studied with Justus Johann Friedrich Dotzauer(Voigt, Kummer, Drechsler, Schubert, Karl Ludwig Dotzauer) who studied with Jean-Louis Duport who studied with Martin Berteau Pablo Casals who studied with Jose Garcia
Aldo Parisot Tomazzo Babini studied with Francesco Serato Luigi Silva studied with Arturo Bonucci who studied with Francesco Serato
Pierre Fournier Paul Bazelaire who studied with Jules Delsart who studied with Auguste Franchomme Anton Hekking who studied with Leon Jacquard who studied with Auguste Franchomme who studied with Pierre Chevillard who studied with Louis Pierre Martin Norblin
Janos Starker Adolph Schiffer(Paul Abraham, Tibor de Machula, Gabor Reito, Matias Seiber, Laszlo Varga) studied with David Popper(Arnold Foldesy, Jeno Kerbely, Mici Lucas, Ludwig Lebel) who studied with Julius Goltermann who studied with Friedrich Kummer(Bernhard Cossmann, Justus Goltermann, Arved Poorten, Richard Boellmann, Robert Haussmann) who studied with Justus Johann Friedrich Dotzauer who studied with Jean-Louis Duport studied with Bernard Romberg
Antonio Janigro Giovanni Berti Diran Alexanian
Shirley Trepel Daniel Saidenberg studied with Andre Hekking who studied with Charles Auguste de Beriot Emannuel Feuermann Gregor Piatigorsky studied with Alfred von Glehn who studied with Karl Davidov(Carl Fuchs, Leo Stern and Hanus Wihan) studied with Anatoly Brandukov who studied with Bernard Cossmann who studied with Wilhelm Fitzenhagen studied with Hugo Becker(Mainardi, Grummer, Beatrice Harrison and Herbert Walenn) who studied with Alfredo Piatti who studied with Friedrich Grutzmacher studied with Julius Klengel who studied with Emil Hegar who studied with Friedrich Grutzmacher
Harriet Risk Woldt Oliver Edel studied with Diran Alexanian
Lev Aronson(Lynn Harrell, Ralph Kirschbaum, Brian Thornton, John Sharp, Adron Ming, Brook Pearce, Christopher Adkins, Laurie Arnold, Alicia Randisi, Karen Terbeek, Carol Haski, Philip Taggart, Kevin Dvorak, Richard Pope, Mitch Maxwell) Julius Klengel Alfred von Glehn Gregor Piatigorsky
The first time I had a lesson with Mr. Parisot, he said, “In the next hour and a half, I will tell you everything I have to say about playing the cello,” and then he did it; it was an extraordinary and brilliant act. Witnessing such a performance and taking it all in is a very different thing than actually doing it, of course! It took some time to assimilate and incorporate all of that information completely. It was a remarkable display to be able to communicate so much so succinctly, and that experience inspires me to this day.
His class at that time was amazingly diverse (a tribute both to his reputation and his broad interest in cellists). There were former students of Piatigorsky, Starker, Magg, Tortillier, Gendron, Siegfried Palm, Rostropovich, and I had come from Aronson, Woldt, Trepel, and Janigro, so the variety of approaches to solving musical and technical issues was very diverse. Masterclass would often go on for 4-6 hours, despite the fact that it was scheduled for 2. It was hog heaven for me, not only because of what Mr. Parisot himself said, but for the huge range of talents that he had assembled.
I first worked with Mr. Parisot at Norfolk in the summer of 1975, and his last public concert was the Saint-Saens A minor Concerto with the Festival Orchestra that summer, conducted by Arthur Weissberg. At the first rehearsal, he was quite nervous, as he wasn’t really performing much at that point. Karen Buranskas and I were playing in the orchestra, and we got all of the celli to play the solo entrance together with him, and as loud as possible. He almost fell out of his chair in shock, but he loved it! He was a fan of practical jokes…
Karen Buranskas and me at Norfolk, 1975
Mr. Parisot once told me that when he was a teenager playing in a Brazilian opera orchestra that the principal cellist marked some of the notes in the famous cello solo in Tosca with color-coded fingernail polish. At one intermission of a performance, the other cellists changed the markings… On another occasion, he told me that they put his mute on backwards and he knocked his bridge over trying to put it on. Bunch of real jokers; it is no wonder that Mr. Parisot always admonished cellists not to look at the fingerboard!
In 1974, I went to Portugal to study in Antonio Janigro’s Master Classes in Cais-Cais. I went with a group of pianists from TCU whom Luiz Moura-Castro had arranged to participate in the Master Classes of Ravel’s student, YvonneLefébure (there are videos of her master classes on youtube that are must see). Luiz was a great mentor to me, and because Janigro would not arrive for some time, he arranged for me to play in the great Hungarian violinist Sandor Vegh’s class. Both Vegh and Janigro taught at the Mozarteum in Salzburg.
Vegh had studied violin at Liszt Academy with Jenő Hubay and composition with Zoltan Kodaly, and was one of the greatest chamber musicians of the twentieth century (and a favorite of Casals). I was fortunate to play twice in his classes before Janigro arrived, and it was an incredible experience. Drawing on his deep experience, teaching cello repertoire that he had never studied was no problem, and to witness how he could take apart a piece and shape it with such eloquence was a real life lesson. As vivid to me now as it was 50 years ago. Of course, he had never studied a Sonata for cello by Brahms or Debussy, but in coaching me on these sonatas in his class, I got a chance to undertand how one of the great musicians of the 20th Century formed interpretive choices, which is truly a lesson for a lifetime.
Antonio Janigro trained in Paris, but his playing was not in the “French” tradition, whatever that might mean (though his knowledge of harmony, counterpoint and composition were very much products of that particular time in Paris, having studied with Nadia Boulanger). Alexanian was a Casals protege who taught all of Casals students in that era, and he was a big man with huge hands (as one might well assume from the fingerings in his editions: lots of extensions). Janigro had a very focussed sound, very projected, but flexible.
The first time that I played for him, I played the Hindemith Solo Sonata, and then he took the occasion to summarize his technical approach to the instrument in an incredibly succinct and detailed manner, yet all driven by the music that I was playing. In just over an hour, he managed to address every aspect of cello playing, and much more, demonstrating at the cello and the piano what he was concerned with musically. His approach was not at all unlike what I understand from my Rose-trained colleagues (and the videos of him teaching) presented. Fundamentally about balance and weight, bow control, and using all of our tonal resources to shape a phrase. Janigro was so detailed (even regarding his approach to solving fingering problems), that everyone present got a lifetime of instruction in a couple of hours.
Janigro plays Couperin
I was invited to join him at the Mozarteum the following year, but family issues interfered. I only found out years later that Jangro was a fellow student and long time sonata partner with/of Dinu Lipatti who was and is one of my favorite pianists.
From the Lipatti Society:
Dinu Lipatti’s Repertoire – Chamber Music It is a little known fact that Dinu Lipatti was a skilled and enthusiastic chamber music performer. In his teens at the Ecole Normale de Musique in Paris, he had a trio with his fellow students Ginette Neveu and Antonio Janigro. He would tour Switzerland in 1947 with Janigro but it doesn’t seem as though he played with Neveu again, a real loss for posterity, especially since both of them were EMI recording artists. While he recorded his godfather Georges Enescu’s second and third Violin Sonatas with the composer performing, he didn’t officially record any chamber music from the mainstream repertoire. However, he did record six works with Antonio Janigro as a test for Walter Legge (a renowned record producer) in May 1947, but these were never released in his lifetime and only a few shorter works were found and issued in 1994.
May 24, 1947 Wolfbach Studio, Zurich 26. Beethoven: Cello Sonata No.3 in A Major, Op.69: I. Allegro ma non tanto 27. Bach: Cello Sonata in D: II. Andante 28. Chopin: Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor 29. Faure: Apres un reve 30. Rimsky-Korsakov: The flight of the bumblebee 31. Ravel: Piece en forme de habanera with Antonio Janigro, cello
Some of the remaining recordings from those sessions:
A few years ago, Robert DeMaine, the principal cellist of the LA Philharmonic, posted a topic on the now defunct Internet Cello Society webpage asking people to reflect on people who were important in their lives. This was my reply:
This is going to be a long one, but I think most of us have long stories to tell of what took us on our journeys. As I have been struggling with some major health issues the last few months, the opportunity that Robert presented with this topic gave me the chance to breathe and reflect on my path.
My family had settled in Ft. Worth, Texas in the fall of 1962. The next fall, Kennedy was assassinated. Shock, grief everywhere. Then came the Beatles. Joy and excitement in something new and thrilling. I started guitar lessons with an itinerant guitar player who came to the house. Then a quartet played in our school encouraging 3rd graders to sign up for violin. I did. The fall of 1965, we rented a violin and and I started in Mrs Virginia Hansen’s class once a week, using the Samuel Applebaum (the Guarneri Quartet’s violist, Michael Tree’s father) books. I went through the 3 books she used for 4th, 5th, and 6th grades in 2 months on my own, then had to have my tonsils out. When I came back, she asked me if I would like to learn the cello, as her cello player was going to graduate. She said she could get me a cello and the books, but that she couldn’t teach me to play it. I said that was fine, because I’d “already finished the violin.” (!!!) That summer, I took a week long group class with Professor Harriet Woldt (TCU/ principal of FW Symphony) with a bunch of other new cellists. In the fall, I began lessons with her most advanced student, Ms Linda Ferguson. Progress was fairly rapid, as I took to it quite naturally, and she was a good and charming teacher with a rye sense of humor. Lessons were often in a room where the ancient instruments were kept, and she invited me to play them after we finished our hour. Krumhorns, Gambas, viols of other sizes, she showed me what the notations meant and where the notes were, and we would plow through music. I was too young and naive to understand that I should not be able to do it… Linda went on to graduate school in Michigan but fell on ice, injuring her back, and had to give up the cello. She became a musicologist and I heard that she ended up teaching at the Mozarteum in Salzburg.
At one point, she started me on the D minor Klengel Konzertstucke. I really liked it. The opportunity came up to audition for a Christmas break string program at Baylor, and I went. There, I was waiting in a hallway to play for the cellist on the faculty, Lev Aronson. I heard some guy screaming, “Beethoven was not some guy from Waxahachie!!!” I thought, hmmm. Then the kid before me came out a bit later in tears. Hmmm, again. I went in, and Aronson introduced himself (very elegantly attired, and with his complicated European manner), and asked what I would be playing. I told him the Klengel and he let out a little grunt and gestured to a chair. As I started to play, he began to weep, copiously. When I finished the exposition, I stopped, and he told me a story about when he went to audition for Klengel, with this piece. Later that afternoon, all of the cello students gathered in a larger room, and Lev entered with his Gofriller and viciously ripped into 4 octave scales with a massive sound. I was stunned and intrigued by this madman. He got me a scholarship for a summer program they had, and there I had more exposure to him and to other faculty. First time I played in a real orchestra (Beethoven!), and chamber music (piano trios, in what would set a precedent for my future career). Because of family issues, it was not possible for me to continue to work with Aronson (I had a brother with schizophrenia and mild retardation, as they described it at the time), so I continued to work with Ms Woldt.
Ms Woldt also taught theory, and was both very funny (a serious punster) and a very serious musician. Her husband had been a composition student of Hindemith’s at Yale, and later studied in Vienna, where he played French horn with the State Opera. I worked with both of them in my musical studies. They were a very unusual couple for that era, they adopted 4 kids that no one wanted, kids with problems. They were big supporters of liberal causes, American Civil Liberties, etc. They put their hearts where their beliefs were, no empty talk, action.
My sisters and my best friend at the time studied with the FW Symphony Concertmaster, Kenneth Schanewerk. Kenneth had studied with the founder of the FT Worth Symphony, Brooks Morris, and later with Roman Totenberg, and he became a very important mentor. He invited me to join the University Chamber Orchestra, though I was but 13 (and playing the cello for 2 years!). We played a lot of challenging repertoire, Stravinsky, etc. and I loved it. I joined the FW Youth Orchestra later that year, where the conductor was a brilliant young classical sax player named John Giordano. In 1969, the FWYO went on a 6 week tour of Europe. The culmination of that was a festival in St. Moritz, with an international orchestra composed of members of the various participating orchestras conducted by Stokowski. Our orchestra played a program of contemporary works by local composers, including a massive aleatoric work featuring electronic music from the synthesizer studio at what is now UTNT. It was a big hit. All this while my friends back in Texas were going to the rock festivals of that Woodstock Summer and doing Acid…
Many of my friends were starting bands in those days, and I would get together with them and listen to all kinds of music, jazz, blues, English prog, Hendrix; I brought Stockhausen, Berg, Stravinsky, Debussy… Then we started to jam. We formed a band that became well known in area bars as “Master Cylinder.” Most of the guys were older and in the jazz program and electronic music program at UTNT. Started playing in bars at 15. Met lots of girls, older girls with their own apartments. At TCU, there was a very active piano department where Lili Kraus was encamped with a group of marvelous young faculty around her. As the string department was not large, I got to coach chamber music with her several times. A true force of nature, passionate and heedless of convention. That summer, I went with my best friend to Taos, where Schanewerk had founded the Taos School of Chamber Music years before with Chilton Anderson (an amateur cellist, rancher, and heir to the Eastman Kodak fortune). Kenneth had a wonderful house there on the rim of a canyon that he had built himself. Not the canyon, the house. We went up to work on people’s houses, fixing cracks in the adobe that formed over the winter, and spreading fresh tar on the roofs. We stayed with Kenneth part of the time and camped out part of the time. Lots of chamber music, lots of adventures. I played for Robert Marsh, who was on the faculty at the Taos School at the time and got a scholarship for the following summer there. Went to a party at Georgia O’Keefe’s. This was the summer when all of the folks who burned out in Haight-Asbury formed a commune outside of Taos. It was a different world than we inhabit these days.
Back at Ft. Worth, I came to the attention of one of the new piano faculty at TCU, Luiz Carlos de Moura-Castro, who I had met at Kenneth’s in Taos. I began playing sonatas with several of his students and coaching with him. He invited me to his home, where he had an active salon of visiting artists, local playwrights, authors, painters, and musicians. There I met some amazing people, including Radu Lupu and his wife of that time (her father had been the British Ambassador to the Soviet Union), who had studied in Moscow with Rostropovich and was in his class with DuPre. Luiz and his wife had studied at the Liszt Academy in Budapest, in addition to their native countries of Brazil and England, respectively, and had a wide circle of friends.
I also had a chance to coach chamber music with Ft. Worth and TCU’s reining Diva of the piano world (which is saying something, as it is the home of both the Van Cliburn Competition and Van Cliburn). She was a true force of Nature
Lili Kraus
At Taos the next summer, I met and worked with the Austrian pianist and then-president of Mannes School, John Goldmark, another Hungarian-Viennese pianist who escaped to the US. The first time I coached with him I was assigned a sight reading of a Dvorak piano trio. I did not know about the false treble clef, so I played it where I saw it. He was quite amused, and very kind. A wonderful artist. He had a habit of hiking on the weekend and sleeping out under the sky, and was an expert mycologist. If you are familiar with the local mycolological traditions, you might understand what that meant.
I began playing with the FW Symphony around that time, and continued my late nights in bars (i did not drink in those days!). Some of these experiences were unique; we had a steady gig on Sunday nights for a while at a cowboy bar (The Silver Slipper), and we played some pretty wild music, but they listened! We had a couple of other steady gigs, too, a campus joint (The Hop) and a jazz club downtown (Daddio’s). One of the bass players who passed through the band left at the same time I did, he to LA, me to Yale. He became the guy who taught Frank Zappa’s band his music for many years, and later worked with the survivors of the Doors. The drummer grew up playing with Stevie Ray Vaughn. Some great players passed through the band over the years, and it was a lot of fun.
In 1974, I was invited to study at Cais Cais, Portugal with Antonio Janigro. Luiz had arranged to take a group of his students there to work with Yvonne Lafebure, and he managed to get me into Janigro’s class. (If you do not know who this woman was, look her up on youtube, there are some incredible master classes, another force of nature such as we no longer have among us!). It was an interesting time in Portugal, which had been mired in war in Mozambique, and had just had a revolution. As we arrived a week before Janigro was to begin his classes, and Sandor Vegh, the great Hungarian violinist (and Casals’ favorite) was giving masterclasses, Luiz arranged for me to play in his class. It was amazing. He had not studied the Brahms Sonata that I brought, but it did not matter. He taught me how his mind worked, and how he made music. He had me play a second time later in the week. When my turn came to play for Janigro, I brought the Hindemith Solo Sonata. He listened to the entire work without interruption. He then spent the next hour and more explaining his entire approach to playing the cello, and then segued into how to study music. He demonstrated at the piano. He played some Bach Suite excerpts, and then showed how Schumann harmonized them. He talked about the importance of understanding harmony and form. He demonstrated with my humble (but very good) German cello; how to sit, how to hold the bow, how to balance the left hand on the fingerboard, how to balance the right hand and arm on the bow. It was spectacular. He thereafter used my cello in class that day (I don’t know where his Guad was, he used that later in the week), and I sat behind him and could observe every detail of his bow arm. He taught me the bow hold I use to this day. He taught us all so much, so succinctly. More about this experience can be read in my blog post on Vegh and Janigro.
Above, Sandor Vegh and me, below, Antonio Janigro
The next year, back in Texas, I knew that it was time to leave. Janigro had invited me to Salzburg, but family issues (again) and my fear of not knowing the language were problematic for me. I went to Houston a few times to take lessons with Shirley Trepel (Principal of Houston Symphony and a former student of Feuermann and Piatigorsky), who was very encouraging in a tough kind of way; I really liked her and she was kind enough to understand that I could no longer remain in Texas. I made a tape and sent it to Aldo Parisot, who got me a scholarship to the Yale Summer program in Norfolk. The program began with a week of instrumental masterclasses before the chamber music and orchestral program got under way. Aldo’s wife, Elizabeth had to leave suddenly for a surgery, and one of her replacements was Thomas Schmidt, with whom I eventually formed the Arden Trio, which played together for 25 years. When Tom and I were about to play the Debussy Sonata in class, Elizabeth arrived and took on the piano part with no rehearsal and was fierce. Incredible. I attended the violin classes of Broadus Erle whenever I could, and I fell under his marvelous influence, as well. Aldo managed to get me accepted into his class at Yale for the fall with a scholarship, and so I finally left Texas for good.
The first time I went to play for Aldo at his home in Norfolk, I did not play a note. He sat me down and told me that he was going to tell me everything he had to say about playing the cello. In the following hour and a half, he started with how to sit, and went from there. There was a theme that ran through it all: balance. Using balance to release tension. Timing. Anticipation. I learned so much, yet to incorporate it all? I am still learning, 49 years later…
That summer, I made a trip into NYC with another cellist, who introduced me to Carlos Arcieri. We hit it off immediately, and when I moved to NYC a couple of years later, it was to an apartment on 57th St, 2 blocks from where he and Bill Salchow had their shops. It was a very sociable place in those days, as it was near some of the busier recording studios, Carnegie, and Lincoln Center, so people would drop by and chat, including players from the many visiting orchestras passing through town. And you could watch great artists at work, making bows, restoring instruments, trying out bows and instruments. A couple of years later, Bill decided to learn the violin, so he brought his grandsons with him to our apartment for violin lessons with the one who would become my first ex wife…
Well, back to Yale: the class Aldo had at the time was incredible. Students of almost every major tradition were represented: Starker, Magg, Piatigorsky, Tortilier, Gendron, Siegfried Palm, all with different approaches to style and technique, and master classes on Tuesdays would go on for hours. He also invited other cellists to give masterclasses for his class. While I was there, Starker came every year (they were close friends), and I also got to play for Pierre Fournier.
I had the opportunity to read string trios with the woman who would one day become my first ex-wife and Raphael Hillyer, played Shostakovich Concerto 1 with Otto-Werner Mueller, coaching the Brahms Double with Aldo and Broadus and playing it with the Repertory Orchestra, and started a wonderful quartet that worked intensively with Broadus as he was succumbing to lung cancer. The violist of that group, my dear friend and former roommate Jim Creitz, was the son of the cellist in the Pro Arte Quartet. He studied viola with Broadus while an undergrad at Yale, and went on to be Bruno Giurana’s assistant, joining the Quartetto Academica and later teaching for many years in Germany, where he had a quartet with Sadao Harada. Jim and I have remained close though separated by many miles and for many years. My family went to visit him and his family a few of years ago at his home in Sicily, where he spent much of his time.
Broadus was an extraordinary and largely under appreciated musician, IMO. He had been a child prodigy playing in Vaudeville, with a typical tiger mom managing his career. He would play poker with stage hands, play some showpiece and come back to his hand while still a child. He then went to Curtis, where he was classmates with some of the greatest violinists America ever produced. He had some great stories of those years, which I have shared elsewhere. He moved to NYC and became one of the city’s great studio players and founded an incredible string quartet with Matthew Raimondi, Walter Trampler (later a founding member of the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center), and Arthur Winograd, the New Music Quartet. Winograd left to form the Juilliard Quartet, and was replaced by Claus Adam, who left to join the Juilliard. He was replaced by David Soyer, who left to form the Guarneri. He was replaced by Aldo Parisot. During WWII, Broadus was a conscientious objector, and spent the war in prison. After the quartet ended, he went to teach at the Toho School in Japan, where his class accompanist was Seiji Ozawa. Broadus recommended him to his classmate from Curtis, Joseph Silverstein (the long-serving Concertmaster of the Boston Symphony), who got him an opportunity to study conducting at Tanglewood. And there hangs another story. When Broadus came back to the US, he brought two young violinists back with him, Syoko Aki and Yoko Matsuda . They studied with him after his appointment at Yale and they formed a music commune at his home in Connecticut with Richard Stotzman (the renowned clarinetist), Peter Salaff (later second violinist of the Cleveland Quartet), and Jesse Levine (bass player/composer). Broadus had taken part in Timothy Leary’s experiments during this time. Can you imagine any of this in today’s academic world?
Playing for Broadus was like playing for Yoda. He had thick, coke-bottle lens glasses and was surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke from the multiple unfiltered Pall Malls he had going. He would listen with great intensity, and ponder what he heard at length before making very concise suggestions. He had a knack for knowing what you needed to know and giving you just that. I think of him often.
After Broadus passed away, Oscar Shumsky came to Yale. My future ex began lessons with him and he turned her technique completely upside down, which was fascinating for me as there was much to be learned from one of the world’s truly great musicians. He had been a student most recently and avidly of Dounis, and to hear of what he learned was most illuminating. My takeaway at this remove of many year comes to this: for the left hand, lifting the fingers is more of the effort to play than merely dropping them onto the strings. If you can’t vibrate, you are too tense. What does this mean? In the context of what I’ve been taught, it come down to to the freedom of motion one can achieve with proper balance of the body’s disparate parts. If the left hand is properly balanced such that the weight of the arm/hand is focused on the notes required, it is free to create tone that is voluptuous, austere, or sinuous, largely free of tension. If the right arm is properly balanced, the flow of tone is easily shaped with a variety of speed and textures. Greenhouse and Shumsky played together for many years in the Bach Aria Group. That takes us to my next chapter.
Bernard Greenhouse, as he was when I worked with him
I moved to NYC in 1977, where I came to study with Bernard Greenhouse. Of course, I wanted to be in that wicked city of that time, it was a magnificent fomenting mess of opportunity. When I first played for him, I stayed in the the apartment of Marin Alsop, who had been a friend of the woman who would one day be my first ex wife and mother of my first child. Greenhouse was so kind and welcoming, and accepted me on the spot. My first lesson with him, I played a couple of Sarasate transcriptions I had made, and he delighted in them, and told me of other arrangements he knew. When our lessons began in earnest, he had me playing Popper Etudes for a semester…. Hmmmm. We formed a wonderful relationship, and as I was pretty well trained by that time, and he was always on the road, I could play something different for him at every lesson thereafter. I was a smoker at the time, and we would smoke and talk and play. I was already working in the studios in NYC, where he spent many years as a freelance studio player, and had worked with a number of people I was then working for. He loved to tell stories! Lessons with him were amazing, he would demonstrate phrasing of such intensity and subtlety, the variety of vibrato (and its implementation) was astonishing (more on this elsewhere), and given with such generosity and ease. Funny thing, his approach to technique was also about balance. Balancing the body (large muscles over small, which he got from Casals) in all ways. Another funny thing is that I later made the majority of my career as the cellist in a piano piano trio. One of my first recording sessions at this time was for a record with the great sax player David Liebman, who played with Miles Davis. It was his first “solo” album, and the arranger was the cellist/trombonist and jazz great David Baker, who taught for many years at Indiana, and had studied with and wrote pieces for Starker. The bass player on the dates was another idol of mine from his years playing with Bill Evans, Eddie Gomez. Here is a track originally recorded in 1979.
Around this time, my first ex got a call from a retiring scientist from Bell Labs, who had founded an orchestra in Central New Jersey that was conducted at the time by Oscar Shumsky (the principal strings were what later became the Emerson Quartet). This gentleman had taken early retirement in order to return to his first love, the violin, and his second, tennis. As to the violin, Shumsky had recommended, you know… as a teacher. And so began another adventure in life learning. John Karlin had been a child prodigy in his native South Africa before settling into a storied career as a research scientist, but was a man of broad and deep interests. I loved talking to him about why vibrato made people sound louder, and at one point we were doing some research on that subject when he had to abandon the topic as his obsession with it was undermining his remaining time with the violin and tennis (as he got older, he started to develop both RA and macular degeneration). Anyway, he and his wife, Susan, came into the city often to the Philharmonic and City Ballet, and would take us out to their favorite fine dining establishments. John was a serious wine collector, and I learned so much about cuisine and wine from them. I’d always had a passion for cooking, and we would go visit them at their bayside home in NJ to hike, fish, cook, and drink, with long days and nights of great conversation. I was so fortunate to have known them… Funny thing, John basically invented the field of what the kids today call U/X. The Karlins were de facto grandparents to our son, Noah. Noah ended up going into U/X, and now is Product Owner at Booking dot com and living in Amsterdam with his wife and son. And he’s a really good cook! That apple did not fall far…
While at Manhattan School, I was first assigned to play in a piano trio for Arthur Balsam. The violinist was later Co-Concertmaster at the Metropolitan Opera, and we had a lovely time playing together that first year. The next two years of my time was spent playing cello sonatas every week for him. That was another great experience. Balsam’s career began as the child prodigy accompanist of the child prodigy Yehudi Menuhin, and he played with every great cellist of the mid twentieth century. He was a great sight reader, and delighted in listening to us first play whatever we brought in, and then offering a couple of suggestions to the pianist before pushing him off of the bench saying, “I will show you.” Then I got to play whatever it was with him. Playing a different sonata almost every week was a challenge, and I was always (and still am) on the lookout for unusual music, so this experience was absolute heaven for me. And the stories of all the great cellists! Funny thing is that Balsam had a piano trio for many years with the cellist Benar Heifetz. My principal cello over most of the last 40 years is a modern instrument modeled on his brothers Amati of 1622. Life offers us much if we choose to observe and learn from it!
I hope that all of this addresses Robert’s mandate in some way. It is important for us to remember those who come into our lives and shed light, and to pass that on to others.
The purpose of this demonstration is to give a basic understanding of how this microphone can work in a sound reinforcement (amplified cello) environment. The cello was recorded with the mic in two common placements often employed with the DPA 4099 microphone (a widely recognized industry standard), the first with the microphone about one inch above the bridge of the cello, pointed to the top of the cello. The second placement is about one inch above the top of the cello, pointed at the top of the cello. Both placements were recorded at the same amplification, with no equalization. As the mic has a hypercardioid (narrow unidirectional) capsule, it is subject to the proximity effect, an exaggeration of low frequencies. This effect was corrected after the recording by rolling off the low frequencies in preparation for this demonstration. There are a couple of examples where this was not quite as effective as it could have been (as there are some unnatural peaks that could have been corrected had the roll off occurred prior to the capture of the sound), but it is suitable enough for those interested to form an accurate idea of the performance of this microphone.
The first examples of each mic placement are of two octave scales on each of the cello’s four strings, followed by a short excerpt of the each of these examples combined with a 101dB peak volume excerpt from a Mahler Symphony (measured at the microphone capsule with a calibrated Digital Sound Level Meter). This last is to give an ideal of how the microphone will perform in a fairly loud ambient environment.
00:00 mic at bridge A string 00:14 mic at bridge D string 00:26 mic at bridge G string 00:41 mic at bridge C string 00:57 mic at bridge Brahms 02:44 mic at bridge A string with background 02:52 mic at bridge D string with background 03:00 mic at bridge G string with background 03:07 mic at bridge C string with background 03:14 mic at bridge Brahms with background 03:22 mic at top A string 03:35 mic at top D string 03:48 mic at top G string 04:03 mic at top C string 04:17 mic at top Brahms 06:06 mic at top A string with background 06:15 mic at top D string with background 06:24 mic at top G string with background 06:33 mic at top C string with background 06:42 mic at top Brahms with background
A cello is not just the sound of its strings, it is a complex interaction of many materials and a design that has evolved over 400 years such that the resonating box can produce an incredible variety of tone, articulation, and dynamics. The response of the string to the bow is directly related to this design, the sense of drawing sounds out of the instrument, and the supple yet palpable feeling of resistance to the bow it exhibits is an integral part of playing the instrument. All of these things occur within the acoustic environment, and no electric cello will ever be capable of this, as there is no mechanism for this visceral response absent the mechanical dynamics of the cello. In addition, because of the absence of these complex interactions, an electric instrument responds in a very different way to the bow, and it is almost nothing like bowing a real cello. Because an electric cello does not respond in any way like an acoustic cello, if your ambition is to play classical cello, do not even think about an electric cello. If you can already play the cello, you can learn to play an electric with some modification to your technique, but to go from learning on an electric to playing a traditional cello is a different matter entirely. Bowing technique is utterly different. No electric cello, no matter how expensive, will ever sound like a real cello, though there are now modeling devices that are quite remarkable. The only reason to get and initially learn to play on an electric is if that is your end goal, to play electric cello. This is not meant as a discouragement to play electric cello at all, but an explanation of the issues that must be considered.
There are two ways to amplify a traditional cello, with a microphone or with a pickup. While there are many microphones that are available, there are few that work when playing in very loud or very compact conditions (such as a club). There are very expensive ones like this for @$1700 plus the costs of a mount to put it onto the cello, in addition to a cable
Microphones are more prone to feedback and picking up other sounds, so they are often not the best choice, and certainly not on a budget. They can also present some problems if playing with various effects is desired.
The other option is a pickup, which usually consists of a piezo element that must be in direct contact with the instrument in some way to pick up the sound of the cello. The better ones include the Realist
While these are much more affordable, they require some kind of preamplifier that in most cases must have an input of 10 megaohms in order to sound well. Even still, these do not produce a natural cello tone, because they get the sound through contact with the instrument rather than through the air (put your ear against the body of a cello sometime while it is being played to get the idea). These devices when combined with a good preamp (and there are ones that can be DIY like this one)
hat will allow you to use pretty much any kind of effects or pedals that are out there.
There is an intriguing new specialized preamp that can create an almost natural cello sound with a contact pickup. Check out this demo:
ToneDexter preamp
Here is a demo of several preamps
Below is the signal chain of a cellist who successfully recorded a metal band-type cello performance that was very effective. It does not sound like a cello, though, it is highly processed.
“What I used for this recording was a Shadow 955 NFX (at least it looks exactly the same, but the model number may be different since I might have an older version of that pickup).
The recording software I used was the one that you get for free when buying a JamVox. I used the JamVox to plug in my cello. In the JamVox there’s a lot of different amps and effects and I the one called “Metal Lead”.
The only pedal I used was a wah-wah pedal called weeping demon.
If you’re interested in using an octave pedal I strongly recommend the Boss OC-3 it has worked really well for me on live-stages, it has a GREAT pure sound.”
Electric cellos
There are many electric cellos on the market online at eBay or Amazon, most of which are cheap factory instruments that have terrible necks, bridges, pegs, tuners/tailpieces, strings, and electronics. In many ways they are comparable to the low quality cellos that too often are seen from such marketplaces. The necks twist and warp, making intonation difficult even if you get everything else set up well. To fix this, you are going to have to spend a good deal more money, usually as much as the instrument cost, and then the electronics are often very poor. Even if the electronics are decent, you still have the same problem as the cello contact pickups above. There are always going to be low-grade sellers out there for any product, and my cautionary comment here is very particular.
Many people feel that the best electric instruments out there are designed by Ned Steinberg (NS), and there are people who like those from Yamaha, as well. Again, these may well require a good preamp in order to sound good.
Other designs you might want to look into for fun include the bakelite instruments from the 30s. You can get the designs for their pickups online (patent filings). These were the original Rickenbacker pickups, BTW, Rickenbacker bought the firm making bakelite instruments mainly to secure this design. They made a few experimental cellos, but I have never seen one. (Rickenbacker later made many of the guitars used by the Beatles and many others). Rickenbacker killed the project when they ran into reliability problems with the bakelite necks IIRC, but they kept the pickup patents. Here is an ensemble of original Bakelite instruments:
Impedance considerations
It is a good idea to enquire as to the input impedance of any electric instrument or pickup that you are interested in, as many of these cellos have a very high output impedance, as mention before, and they need to see an input that accepts this impedance. Most amplifiers do not. If your amp has an input with impedance of 10 megaohms, it would work, but very few do. Ideally, you also need a very short shielded cable to connect to a preamp/DI with an input impedance of 10 megohms, then connect from that to an amp input with a good quality cable. A piezo pickup (that is what is on the cello) is subject to RFI and EFI (radio-band- or electrical-frequency- interference), which is why you need a short, shielded cable to limit this (they may also have a ground problem). The impedance mismatch acts as a high pass filter that filters out most of the fundamental pitch of the cello, so the sound is thin and scratchy. You might go to a good guitar-type shop that has lots of DI (direct in) boxes to try. Some electric guitars (and basses) have ultra high impedance pickups, so they may well have something that you can try to see if it works. This is true of amps, as well. Beware of guitar amps, because they will not necessarily have a natural sound on the cello. Best are keyboard amps and some bass amps.
Comparisons of nine 10mm endpins: from New Harmony, a hollow 20 inch, 43 gram carbon fiber, a 20 inch, 67 gram solid CF, a 24 inch, 76 gram hollow CF, a 24 inch, 79 gram solid CF, and a 28 inch, 89 gram solid CF; a Cube Acoustics solid 24 inch, 390 gram tuned alloy; a Memminger 24 inch, 92 gram hollow titanium with three vertical rows of alternately placed holes, which allows you to rotate the pin for different qualities of sound; a RESONANCE 24 inch, 230 gram solid Titanium, and a 28 inch, 436 gram solid stainless steel.
There is a good deal of commentary by cellists concerning how different materials (and even different internal lengths) change the sound or response of a cello, so I decided to put this to the test.
All excerpts were performed with the endpin at the same length outside of the cello, 12.75 inches. The nine endpins compared here were auditioned one after the other in exactly the same position, mic placement, etc., in order to have as true a comparison as possible. All were inserted into a 6-degree down-angled New Harmony plug/bung.
Special thanks to Ellen S. Gunst of Cellos2Go.com for the use of several of these endpins.
As the string demonstrations I had seen online were quite poor (in my opinion), I couldn’t take too much from them. That was my motivation to develop something that was not some vague, meaningless description/review, or so poorly produced as to be useless. I mean, what is bright, or dark, or rich, mean? Such terms are too subjective, vague, and individual to have any real utility.
In an effort to address this, I settled on particular repertoire that would show the full range of each string, as well as repertoire that shows how the entire set sounds together, playing them as consistently as possible regarding tempo, dynamics, and interpretation (so as not to distract from or favor any string), and recording them with the most consistent possible placement of microphones and volume settings, with no sound processing whatsoever. Edit: I eventually changed the set up of the cello and moved my studio, so I ended this project, as I could no longer make such close comparisons. I did, however, make one more demo in the new location with the new setup and different mics because I thought that the latest Thomastk offering, Dominant Pro strings (which are probably the best-priced high quality strings available) should be heard.
Magnacore medium and Arioso:
Jargar Superior set and the Jargar Special A+D strings
Pirastro Perpetual line of strings:
Thomastik Versum, Versum Solo, and Rondo strings:
Thomastik-Infeld Dominant Pro:
Warchal Amber and Metal A and Prototype A strings:
Rostanvo points out that while there is a difference in the downforce on the instrument between having strings on it and not having strings on it, the difference in downforce between strings of different tensions is almost non-existent. Here are two articles that explain what this downforce really consists of.
Rostanvo’s excellent research is very interesting to me, and it is congruent with my own observations from the string demonstration project that I made some time ago. One thing I might mention here is that there is almost no difference in the gauge of a metal string when it is in its packaging and when it is on an instrument and tuned to pitch. I have not explored this phenomenon as relates to synthetic or gut core strings, however. Here is a chart I made that correlates string tensions and gauges from the strings I have worked on thus far:
A comparison of many strings:
When to change strings
There is no hard and fast rule as to when to change strings. I generally play on strings until things start to get weird, or are hard to tune (the overtones get funky making it difficult to hear), they don’t respond as they usually do (but this requires that you eliminate other issues like a big weather change, open seams, string height change, etc.), or that they get balky or squeaky. Lots of the modern high end strings will last a long time ( I’ve had Evah Pirazzis on for 2 years+ and Versums on for over a year that still sounded good). Others, like Larsens and Magnacore are reported not to last so long, though I personally have no experience of this.
Three interesting articles on cleaning strings and lifespan:
One of the most widely misunderstood things among string players is the measure of strings known as “tension.” People have a strong tendency to project its meaning as “tense” and other such misapplied concepts. We extrapolate from such misunderstandings things which hinder a true understanding of cause and effect regarding our instruments and their response to different technologies.
We also have an inherited tendency towards terms which in themselves are vague and misleading as we struggle to put into words what we experience as we assess things like the strings we play upon. As we are not taught a common language to address many things about our common experience as string players, it is important for us to establish a clear and science-based set of terms in order for us to have a coherent discussion of particular elements of our field. It is rare, given the competitive nature of commercial enterprises like string manufacturing (where there is a natural competitive desire for a certain degree of secrecy), to find clear statements of fact by which we can understand exactly what it is that we experience as players.
A fairly new company in England, Rostanvo, has broken somewhat with their fellow string manufacturers in publishing clearly expressed and science-based explanations of the nature of strings and their performance. As the last few years has produced some real breakthrough innovations in string manufacturing and performance, this is an exciting and useful contribution to us all.
I quote below some information from Rostanvo Strings’ website, an explanation of string tension and other factors that affect a string’s response and character. Edit: as of this writing, both their website and the company seem to be gone.
“String Tension Explained
Surprisingly, tension is easy to measure on a string (the vibrating length of the string is measured and weighed). And while it can provide us with some information on how the string will behave, it says little about how the string will actually sound.
The key variable tension can give us is an indication of is the string’s impedance. Put simply, impedance tells us how much energy the string can carry and relay onto the instrument. The higher the tension, the larger impedance, resulting in a louder sound.
But it does not tell us anything about the string’s frequency output, ie the instrument’s quality or timbre of sound.
A Cello’s changing shape with strings
Admittedly, the cello body’s shape does change slightly when there are no strings attached to when strings are tuned onto the instrument. But the impact to the shape between high and medium tension strings is too slight to have any noticeable change. If you don’t believe us, there’s a very simple experiment you can perform to prove this to yourselves. Read our article on “string tension proved” for instructions.
But tension can still be a useful measure from a player’s perspective. High tension strings, because of the greater levels of impedance, need more energy given by the player in order make them sound. They are more power hungry and can sound louder. But they are also harder to control ,especially at lower volumes. No surprise then that “soloist” strings tend to have higher tensions (as more skill is required to play them).
Higher tension strings however have one key advantage aside from sounding louder. They maintain their intonation more easily at a range of pressure levels. Take the C string for instance. Try playing the same note with light and then heavy bow pressures. The pitch should rise. This is particularly pronounced on low tension strings while the higher tension equivalent will maintain its pitch much better.
So to conclude, be wary of focusing too much on string tension. It is the easiest piece of “technical information” you can get on strings, so easy you can calculate it yourself. But sound wise, there are other factors which merit more thought.
String stiffness and flexibility
As we have already mentioned in our introductory article, variations in the waves formed on a string are what makes one string sound different to another. And as you might expect, the stiffness of a string will affect the wave and thus the way energy transmits to the rest of the instrument. If perfectly stiff and rigid, no wave motion is generated which means the string won’t sound at all. You absolutely must have some flexibility.
From a sound perspective, the reason all this matters is because it has been shown that changes in the bending stiffness of a string impact the balance of harmonic and inharmonic frequencies. Ie stiffness influences the frequency output and by doing so, changes our perception of whether the string is warm, metallic or dull, or any other idiom we wish to assign the frequency pattern we hear. Specifically, the stiffer the string, the less prominent the higher harmonics.
So stiffness would be a hugely useful variable when comparing strings. But there’s a catch – measuring it is not as easy as determining the string’s tension. You need specialist equipment to get accurate readings. And even if you had it you would need to standardise the bowing motion applied so that readings are consistent. Even the bow and rosin used would affect the results. So unfortunately we need to resign ourselves to the fact we aren’t going to get this information from manufacturers soon. A pity, as it would be a lot more useful from an acoustic point of view than tension.
What your string is made of
When choosing strings, one of the most obvious questions you’ll be faced with is what material you want the string to be made out of. The reason materials matter is because each will be different in terms of elasticity, stiffness and weight/density, and thus influence how waves travel through the string.
As we mentioned in our first article, the shape, speed and pattern of these waves is what differentiates the sound between different strings. And so it makes sense that different materials will influence how those waves move through the string and thus impact the sound we hear.
Unless you’re a historical performer and are buying gut strings, you’re likely considering a synthetic core or a steel core, wound with different kinds of metals such as tungsten, steel, aluminium or silver. The windings can themselves be plated in other metals such as chrome or gold.
Understanding precisely how these different materials might impact the sound is a hugely complicated subject. Something a professional material scientist would be better placed to attempt to explain. But to give you feel for what can change, the introduction of tungsten winding is a good example.
Different metals have varying densities. Tungsten is almost twice as dense as silver, meaning that half as much can be used in order to maintain the same overall string weight and thus tension. Tungsten strings are thus thinner, and thinner strings generally have less stiffness, which from an acoustic point of view means a greater harmonic content. From a playing perspective thinner strings are also easier on your fingers and can have a quicker response from the bow.
Materials and practical considerations
The elasticity of the string refers to how much the tension (and so the pitch) changes when you tighten or loosen your string. Steel core strings are approximately three times more elastic than a synthetic string, which means that steel strings may be slightly more difficult to tune (since the tension responds rapidly to small changes at the peg or fine tuners).
However, steel strings are a bit more stable than synthetic core strings; just a few minutes after putting them on to your instrument for the first time, they’ll settle into their stable pitch, while a synthetic core string might require several hours to settle (and gut strings far longer).
Materials also react in different ways to the environment they are in. Heat and changes in humidity effect steel core strings less compared to synthetic and gut. So keep in mind even the moisture from your hands and fingers, and moving between dressing room and auditorium can have an impact.”
Wolf tones are hyper-resonances that often occur with cellos. On some instruments they present no problem, but on others they make certain pitches difficult to play well. They typically occur in the area of Eb-F# on the G string (as well as the same pitches higher on the C string). If you are looking for a cello to buy or rent that has wolfs on the D or A string, just move on, this is not worth it. This is a sign of a poorly set up instrument.
With most wolf tones, it is possible to treat the wolf such that it is quite manageable. It is crucial to make sure that the setup is optimal first. If this is so, then there is one aspect of the setup to experiment with first that is not costly and can be effective, and that is the string afterlength. Typically the afterlength (the measure of the string from the bridge to where it is stopped at the end- usually the tuner) should be 1/6th the length of the sounding string length from the edge of the nut to the edge of the bridge. If the afterlength is more than that, it can make a wolf worse, if it is a bit shorter, that can make it less troublesome. If the length is “correct,” the bowed C string afterlength should sound approximately an octave above the open G string, so it you slightly lengthen the tailgut until it sounds F# on the C string afterlength, that can help.
If the wolf remains troublesome, the most common sort of wolf eliminator fits onto the string between the bridge and the tailpiece. In using these, first try it on the C string and tune it to the pitch a 5th above your wolf tone. You tune it by bowing the string between the bridge and the wolf eliminator. If that does not work, then try a 4th. If that does not work, try the note itself. The further away from the bridge you get, the fewer overtones you kill, which is why it is better on the C than the G. (There are 3 octaves of pitches on the other side of the bridge, BTW). If this is not effective enough, then try the G string.
Many people find the new Krentz eliminator much more effective and less problematic for the sound. Some people have reported that it can actually improve the sound of the cello.
Poplar and willow are the best wood for cello backs, in my opinion. Many people feel that the ex-Nelsova Strad is the best Strad cello; it is willow-backed, and Lynn Harrell’s Strad was poplar. Of all the Strads I have been fortunate to play (ex-Feuermann, ex-Greenhouse, ex-Davidoff, ex-Harrell, ex-Nelsova, ex-Saidenberg), I liked the Saidenberg (that is actually a composite instrument) the best.
The Testores, the Brothers Amati, and many other classic Italians made poplar- and willow-backed instruments. They are the lightest of the classic hardwood tonewoods. Two of my cellos have one piece, slab cut poplar backs, another two have two-piece poplar backs.
Sometimes you may see a top or back of more than 2 pieces, and this is because the wood has exceptional tonal quality and the maker didn’t want to waste any of it. I have seen 4 piece tops on some wonderful old Italian instruments.
David Soyer and Joel Krosnick both had willow- or poplar-backed instruments by Andreas Guarneri and Joseph filius Andreas Guarneri respectively. One certainly cannot say they are not beautiful! Poplar and willow are the lightest of the classic hardwood tonewoods, and sound like a much older instrument when new (in my experience) as it seems more free to vibrate than maple, especially at lower frequencies. I have never heard poplar described as subdued, but it is more like dark, rich, responsive, and loud.
One of the interesting things I have discovered on cello-related internet sites is that there are a surprising number of people who express an interest in learning to play the cello somewhat later in life. As seems common today, there is a strong DIY trend that seems to accompany this. While many people have experience teaching themselves to play the guitar or keyboard, I tend to discourage this with the cello, as it is simply too easy to do it wrong; not so much in defying “tradition,” but in the very real possibility of long-term injury. Playing the cello is simple, in that there are some very basic principles that are at work to make the cello sing. But those “simple” tasks involve a lot of repetitive motions that even done well can produce nagging health problems. For this reason, and because it is possible to make far faster progress with help, I encourage people to find a good teacher.
A local symphony, the music department of a college, university, or music school, etc., are good places to start. You can go to these resources for advice in finding someone in your community. You do not want to study with someone who teaches general strings unless they are a professional cellist, as while there are commonalities with other members of the bowed string family, there are also radical differences, principally as the cello is approached in the opposite manner of the violin and viola. While I have learned an enormous amount from violinists and pianist over the years, I did so as someone who already had a good foundation at the cello. So, I strongly urge that the person someone studies with be a competent professional cellist. The cello has particular requirements that you must get right, and one can only fulfill those with professional guidance.
For many beginners (even adults) Suzuki training is a good way to start, and it offers the social aspect of working with a group at least part of the time.
For the new cellist, acquiring a cello is an important task. As the new cellist has no experience to rely on in order to judge what a decent instrument is, it is important to have a knowledgable person guide this process. I have seen so many people ask about this great deal they saw on eBay/Amazon/the local band/guitar store and think that it must be OK. 99% of the time this is very wrong. For the new cellist, renting from a reliable shop that specializes in violin family instruments is the best option.
The best thing you can do is to go to shops that are well regarded by string players and develop a relationship with the people there. A good shop of this sort may be run by a luthier (not the kind that works on guitars), or violin maker. This kind of expertise is much more likely to yield a good outcome. Take a colleague or teacher with you to try instruments, so that you can hear what they sound like from the listener’s perspective. If you are a more experienced player, try instruments that are out of your price range to get a better idea of what qualities you might want to look for, and to give you a better perspective of the market and pricing. By getting to know the staff, they can get an idea of what you are looking for and keep an eye out on your behalf. On the other hand, don’t allow anyone to convince you to buy a cello that you have reservations about. Those reservations will turn into resentments over time.
For the new cellist, I would advise the following: successful progress is dependent on the cello being well set up to play. This requires a professional luthier’s attention, no matter if the cello is a factory made one, or by one of the great masters. This is particularly important for the new player. Considerations in getting a first cello begin with the fact that it is better to rent in the beginning for a number of reasons. If there is any uncertainty about how serious the new player’s interest is, renting minimizes the investment if the player becomes discouraged or loses interest. If the new player takes to it well, then renting makes it easier to move on to a better instrument over time. Again, you should only rent from a shop that deals exclusively with violin family instruments and has a professional luthier on staff. Not a “music store,” “guitar center” or online source, etc. Many shops offer a rent to own arrangement, but I would not advise buying your first cello under any circumstance. Upgrade the rental as the new player progresses in their capacity and interest in playing. At that point, the rent to own option becomes more of a consideration. If there are no such shops available near you, there are some large shops that may well rent and ship instruments like Shar Products and Johnson Strings. Further considerations:
“trade” instruments are not hand made by a luthier who markets the instrument themselves. Such instruments are most frequently made in factories in China or eastern Europe. They are often sold in bulk and given names of makers who don’t exist or some kind of “brand” name. These names are meaningless. They will never be an investment, the way an instrument by a fine and well-regarded maker can be, they will at best maintain their value as a tool of trade, if they are well set up to play and well maintained.
There are fine shops that will import a bunch of these and fix the problems that they often have, bad fingerboards, problematic necks, bad bridges, posts, tailpieces, pegs, strings and endpins, and they will sometimes do some regraduation of the wood, particularly the ribs and tops. As the material used in the better ones can be quite good, as are the basic execution of the models, the factories survive by basically selling them under-finished, and the local shop adds value by finishing them properly. There are shops that are known for selling really well setup instruments of this type that are very decent cellos, but most of the online sellers are selling problem instruments. Buying such a bulk instrument yourself pretty much guarantees that you will end up spending at least as much as the purchase price again in order to make the instrument reliably playable. Let someone else take that risk for you.
There are a number of things that can make a cheap cello’s intonation unreliable that you must be aware of, all involving the neck/fingerboard. If the fingerboard is not real ebony (common on many cheap instruments), the neck can warp or flex, which literally makes the place where the note should be move around as you play. An improperly set neck, or a neck whose wood is too “green” can also do this. The neck could also be warped because of improper maintenance. This is addressed be replacing the fake ebony fingerboard with a proper one, and sometimes inserting a carbon fiber rod into the neck.
As to shopping for a fine cello, you need to get to know makers and instrument dealers in your area, or even go on a “road trip” to visit major dealers’ shops. This can be fun and very informative. Developing a relationship with such folk makes it much more likely to find a fine cello, as they will learn your needs and preferences as you develop that relationship, so that when you decide it is time to seek a fine instrument, they will understand what you are looking for and can exploit their network of contacts to find something for you. As cellos can be an expensive purchase, there are occasions where one might need help financing a purchase. Some musicians’ unions have credit unions where a loan might be available, but this I sadly less common these days. Some people have had success getting personal loans from a bank. I played on modern instruments for my entire career that were made for me, and I strongly urge all serious cellists to consider this, as we live in a time of great cello makers. Below is a link to an organization I have heard can be of help in purchasing an instrument.
One other consideration that all cellists must be aware of is that accidents happen which can be cause for significant costs to repair. Many rental programs provide insurance as part of the rental, and this is something that must be clearly established before renting. Once you purchase an instrument, you need for it to be insured. If you are getting a loan for the purchase, this is likely required, and it would be foolish not to do so. For the young student living with their parents or in college/grad school, the parents can have the instrument included on a homeowner’s policy or renter’s insurance, usually subject to some deductible. I understand that a number of professionals are now using this form of insurance due to the fact that many instrument insurance policies no longer are “all risk,” whereas homeowners/renters policies are “all risk.” This kind of policy on a professional instrument would likely require a “rider” on your homeowners/renters policy for an additional premium. I have heard that this is often cheaper than a specific instrument policy.
Bridge blanks are a practical necessity, as the rote (machine) work required to make a mass produced product (a blank) does not require the refined skills of the particular sort that actually carving a blank into a bridge does. Beyond that, there are issues as to the “tightness” of the wood grain and its degree of dryness that have an impact on sound quality. They also impact how difficult it is to work with the bridge, because the dryer, older blanks are harder to work on, but produce the best results in terms of sound and responsiveness. Hard, dense wood transmits sound faster, (hence the desire for tight-grained, old bridge blanks). A higher “arch” (longer “legs”) is achieved by cutting the top of the feet of the blank down from the top of the feet (and, to a degree, carving the arch higher), and the bottom of the feet must be fit to the top of the instrument. Longer “legs” means less wood, which translates into faster response, which is the main reason that Belgian bridges have become more popular; they have longer “legs” and less wood on top than the Aubert blanks. The thickness of the top section is also important in maximizing the transmission of sound, too thick, less response, too thin, likely to warp or break. It takes years of experience to get it right consistently, which is why a good bridge usually is quite expensive, but well worth it.
You might see advice on the internet that suggests you just go buy a blank bridge and cut it yourself. This is profoundly mistaken. It takes years of training and practice to master the skills to cut a good bridge, and even to recognize a good bridge blank. As the bridge is a vital element in having a responsive instrument, this is not something to compromise on. Do not do this. One look at the articles on bridges linked later in this article and it should quickly become obvious why this is something best left in the hands of an experienced professional.
The variability of carving one sees in bridges is due to differing concepts as to how to best achieve a balance of these elements for a particular instrument, although most luthiers do have a general, recognizable design philosophy. Some people think that the Belgian bridges are better for darker instruments, but I am inclined to think it is more a matter of the physics of the volume of wood more than the blank type. I have seen many white, thick, broad-grained, short-legged bridges made by people who are not well-trained in places that are not near an important luthier, which is why I cringe when I read someone say that they will make a bridge for $90US. If you don’t have good material and you cut corners with sub-optimal (but faster) proportions, you can have a lousy, cheap bridge. If you save your money and see a true artist, you will be glad of the result. This is one of the reasons why a cheap factory-type instrument can sound quite decent or horrible. If you ever have the chance to compare a bunch of blanks, try dropping them from a short distance (on a horizontal plane) onto a hard surface and compare the sound. A dry (darker) tighter-grained blank “rings” more than a soft, white one.
Janos Starker experimented a lot with different bridge designs, as I recall. There was, at one point, a “Starker” blank with an “S” instead of a heart in the middle. He tried bridges where the feet/legs had a conical-shaped hollow at one point. Fast response and not full-spectrum is what I recall of that experiment.
Bridges warp due to the uncorrected movement of the bridge caused by significant changing of pitch of the instrument, as the friction of the strings pulls it in the direction that you are moving the pitch. You need to ask your luthier how to adjust for this, it is basic maintenance that one can learn to do and must be done periodically, particularly when the weather changes requiring one to significantly retune, or when changing/breaking in new strings. He/she will have to do this when they put a new bridge on, so this is a perfect opportunity for you to learn this important skill. If you do not learn to do this or have it done for you, you will warping bridges forever. This is a basic and important skill that every cellist needs to know and none are taught. I have bridges that I have kept for decades (different heights for different seasons), and none of them has warped.
There is lots of very bad advice out there on the internet about how to fix a warped bridge. Principally this involves steam or hot water to soften the bridge. As the best bridge is dense and dry wood, it should be obvious that such treatments are bad for sound, but they also weaken the structure of the wood, making it more vulnerable to further warping. So, if you want to have a bad sounding bridge that warps regularly, follow this advice. If, however, you want to take good care of your instrument, and enjoy its maximum playing potential, visit your luthier and learn to monitor and adjust your bridge. Or have them do it for you. In the event your bridge does warp a bit, they can use dry heat to straighten it if it isn’t too badly deformed.
A mute will not cause the bridge to warp or otherwise damage it. I hate the rubber practice mutes, personally, in my experience they distort the tuning of the cello, which is much worse for your bridge than anything. Never leave the mute on the bridge when you are not using it or when it is in the case, that will cause trouble.
Location of the bridge
The inner hash marks on the F holes should align with the center of the side of the bridge feet, and the feet should be equidistant from the F holes. The side of the bridge closer to the tailpiece should be perpendicular to the top (the side closer to the fingerboard should look like it is leaning slightly back towards the tailpiece when viewed from the side). This is because the back of the bridge is uncut and flat, whereas the front is where the bridge is thinned to the proper shape, wider towards the feet, narrower towards the top. The bass leg of the bridge (that which is under the C string) should be centered over the bassbar, and the feet should be cut and placed so that they are located equidistantly from the F-holes.
Here is a video that demonstrates how to put the bridge in the correct place, and keep it standing up straight:
Strings too high/low
The height of the A string above the end of the fingerboard should be 4.5-5.5mm, and the C string should be 7.5-8.5mm. With season changes, this can vary significantly. When we are go from the dry, cold, heating season, where the wood of the instrument is dry and at risk of cracking, to the humid, hot season, where the instrument swells with the increase in humidity, the body swells, the bridge goes up, making the strings higher over the fingerboard. The reverse happens as we go back to the dryer, colder season. The best way to deal with this often is to have 2 bridges, one for summer, one for winter. You could save some money in the short term just having your bridge reshaped in the summer, but it will probably be too low the following fall.
Other summer/winter changes
We often experience the pegs becoming difficult to turn in humid summer weather, and have them slip when the weather gets cold and dry. This is because the pegbox swells with the higher humidity and shrinks in the cold, dry weather.
Several other articles and quotes concerning humidity and instruments
From David Burgess:
“Let me go over the basics once again. Wood is an organic material which exchanges moisture with the surrounding air. It swells and contracts depending on its moisture content, and it’s moisture level depends directly on the moisture in the surrounding air. This change in shape and size puts tremendous stress on the instrument. When it gets smaller, parts of the instrument like the top are under tension, the perfect condition for the formation of cracks and failure of the joints and seams. When it gets larger, joints and seams can also fail, and at high moisture levels, the resistance of wood to bending and to permanent deformation goes way down. Heat and moisture were used by the maker to bend the ribs on your instrument, so you can understand how excessive moisture can result in permanent distortion of the top and a permanent sagging of the neck height. So the dimensions and strength of the wood change with moisture content, but did you know that the weight of the wood also changes significantly? No wonder the sound of instruments changes with moisture content. These factors, weight, dimensions and strength are the very factors that instrument makers manipulate to control how their instruments sound in the first place!” I highly recommend the calibrated humidistats he makes available,
“Most violin-family instruments have pegs that depend on friction. There is a gradual taper to both the peg and peghole that needs to match precisely. This allows the peg to hold (due to friction), but we also need it to be able to turn. If your instrument has fine tuners, you might not need to turn the pegs very often, but they do need to turn sometimes. The major reason for pegs not being able to hold on can be attributed to cold weather and lack of humidity. Most pegs are made out of very hard, dense ebony wood that isn’t affected much by humidity. The wood surrounding the pegs, however, is maple, and although maple is considered a hardwood, it is much softer and more prone to expansion and shrinking with changes in humidity. As the maple loses humidity in the winter, it gradually shrinks making the pegholes slightly larger until “POP” the peg can’t hold on anymore!”
When tuning using pegs, it helps to lower the pitch first, as this releases the friction between the peg and the peghole, as well as makes the string move more easily over the bridge and nut grooves, making the pegs easier to turn. When tuning the pitch up to the desired pitch, a gentle pressure on the peg towards the pegbox will help it stay in place.
Quite a few cellists are now using geared pegs, which offer a much more stable condition of the pegs with changes of weather, and can eliminate the need for fine tuners, as they are geared to make very fine adjustments. I like them very much, and find that they can help limit the sources of buzzing that can occur related to fine tuners. Like friction pegs, it is a good idea to tune down the string a bit first when tuning, as it relaxes the friction on the bridge and nut grooves somewhat. I prefer PegHeds and Wittner pegs to Knilling, as there have been some reports of failure with the latter. The only disadvantage with the geared pegs is that it takes longer to change strings due to the lower turning ratio that makes it possible for easier fine tuning.
The traditional explanation of the hair on the bow has been that it has a rough surface that is like little hairs. Rosin makes these separate and stand up, and gives them a sticky quality. They can then grab the string like millions of fingers playing pizzicato. While this is a nice metaphorical explanation, this model has been revised, as can be seen here:
Too much rosin inhibits the slip, too little inhibits the pull. Neither sounds good. As a general rule, a little bit of rosin applied regularly is all you need. If you are getting a bunch built up on your strings or the top of your instrument, you are probably using too much.
As to tightening the bow, you need enough tension on the hair to grab the string and so that the hair does not touch the stick when you play. Generally speaking, a very flexible stick needs to be tighter than a stiffer bow.
The color of the hair is not a fair gauge of whether it needs rosin, horse hair has different shades. The best way to judge if you need rosin is by how it feels to use the bow. If the sound is whistle-y, does not speak, etc., you need more rosin. If clouds of rosin puff up when you play, it is way too much. As you are learning, just put a few swipes on each time you play and see how it feels. If you get a bunch left on your strings and cello, wipe it off with a soft cloth and skip rosin for a couple of days and see how it feels.
Go to a bunch of violin shops or bow makers (not “music stores”) and take your cello with you. Try as many bows as you can on your cello and see what works for you. You will learn a great deal from this. Brands are irrelevant, sound and handling are all that matters, what is good for one cellist on one cello does not necessarily transfer to another.
Try to have a colleague go with you to try bows on your cello, as hearing the sound of different bows on your cello as a listener is also important. Look for flaws in the bow by playing long, slow bows, and if you see the bow “jerk” a bit consistently in the same part of the bow, that can indicate a problem. Of course spiccato, sautille, etc. are important to test.
Lots of shops will send out a group of bows on trial, so decide what you want to spend, and contact the big shops that offer this service. Don’t obsess on names, what you need is a bow that works for you and your cello.
Why is a frog called a frog
There was a great variety of bows during the period 1600 – 1750 (which includes the development of the “modern bow by Francis Xavier Tourte). Most bows from before around 1720s were bows without an adjustment screw. Instead they had a frog which was wedged between the hair and the stick of the bow. (When not wedged correctly, the frog can jump out of its intended position, and this is what lead it to be called frog, since it had the tendency to jump). Such frogs are usually somewhat higher and are well rounded at the end over which the hair runs. Baroque bows come in many sizes: from very long to very short. This has to do with the many different types of bow hold that existed, from almost at the frog to close to a third up the bow, to underhand grip; all of these different bow holds need a different type of bow. Most baroque bows are convex, but some later ones might be slightly convex toward the tip. Underhand bows tend to be longer and have heavier tips than overhand bows. Different types of wood were used: snakewood is most commonly seen nowadays on baroque bows, but ironwood, bloodwood, some late ones in pernambuco, even light woods like beech and larch have been used to make bows from. All of these of course have a serious impact on how a bow functions, and what they can do for you.
Here are four books which tell some fascinating stories that illustrate the changes of the musical (and real) world over the 1st half of the 20th Century and more.
“Cellist” by Gregor Piatigorsky
“The Lost Cellos of Lev Aronson”
“History of the Violoncello” by Dr. Lev Ginsburg
Rudolf Matz was considered by many to be the greatest theorist of the cello of the twentieth century. This book details his life, career, and his teaching philosophy.
“Rudolf Matz”
“Cellist” is out of print, but very charming, with lots of colorful and entertaining stories if it is in your budget. Piatigorsky was a great cellist and raconteur. The Aronson book is an illuminating tale of the first half of the 20th Century told through Aronson’s experience. There aren’t many cellists around who have direct knowledge of some of the things he experienced (he was in both Nazi death camps and a Nazi work camp), and it is well worth reading. The History of the Violoncello has a lot of information on many cellists of the past. I’m told Aronson hated it because he wasn’t in it. Life is a strange trip, for sure… Rudolf Matz and Lev Aronson worked together on “The Complete Cellist” which is out of print now. It is available, as are the collected papers of many renowned cellists (including Aronson and Matz) at the excellent UNCG archives.
Influential Luthiers in America in the 20th Century
Rembert Wurlitzer, an important member of a family whose influence was profound. Sacconi, D’Attili, Nigogosian, Morel, Français, Arcieri, Bellini, Cauer, Salchow, and more, were trained and nurtured in that shop; most are now gone. Below are links to some interesting stories of some of America’s most influential shops and the people who made them so.
The Rembert Wurlitzer Company, history and some of the renowned people who came from it:
(certain wiki articles seem to need going to a second page. This may be one, as it seems to ask “did you mean this other page?” yet that second page has the same URL but indeed opens the page desired. It’s the internet, go figure…)
