Mendelssohn vs. Me, round 3: rusty!
….in which she begins to develop a neurosis about her hair as it appears from the side. Sigh. I really should just flat iron my hair every day to avoid these calamities. God help me if Nathan or Frankie at…
Tag approach
“why”
One of the things I never get asked that my adult beginners always get asked is why they play the cello. Depending on the company, the primrose path can lead to some pretty ugly places. Try not to feel put-upon. Look at this guy. Some…
Mendelssohn vs. Me, round 2: punchy tuner edition
Let’s do this.
Mendelssohn vs. Me, round 1
Here I am, risking a little bit of my pride to show you the practice process behind what will become a very good Mendelssohn excerpt at some point. I figure that part of the strength of this blog is a…
Thanks, Jackie.
If you had any questions about it, now you have an answer. You should play some cello. You just should.
The Audition.
This is what my life has been like recently. Everything always happens at once, but of course the audition has been the focus of my efforts. So last week, I did it. After practicing for months, chronicling my process, I…
Spice for the recipe
In the baseball game of Audition vs Emily, the pitcher is kicking the dirt on the mound, leaning forward to consult the catcher’s sign, and has risen up: coiled and ready to pounce. Less than a week till the audition,…
la doleur exquise
Based on what I’ve seen @ Twitter and the contents of my email inbox, it seems like this past week beat the crap out of the ol’ CelloFamily. Not to toot my own horn *pulls out sousaphone* but I give a…
Auditioning, “Oops” edition.
The audition pieces are chosen for very specific reasons. They want to see you hold down a sense of time when rushing is what feels good, they want to see huge flexibility in dynamic range, tone quality and color, intonation,…
Auditioning
I’m taking some auditions around town in a month or two, so that means more than ever, routine and repetition rule my life. I love it: the sense of purpose and direction, the hours that seem to disappear, the wondering…