Old friend

I now feel like practicing études is a luxury. At first when I told people I was moving to Thailand for a year, I would only say that I will play études. That was because the main extracurricular playing I have been doing for the past couple of years has been said études. When you're trying to be ultra careful with your time and energy outside of work, they are an extremely efficient way to enjoy cello-time. Funnily enough, they are less taxing than real rep. I suspect the interconnection between the mental and the physical has something to do with it. Music that has more depth actually takes more out of you physically, even when the notes themselves are much simpler and more straightforward. That's not to discount the exertion études require. It is still arduous, but more lighthearted.

So it turns out that I haven't been playing études here in Thailand. I have been playing the standard rep, particularly the things I might be playing in the near future. But just today, I finally came back to my études. They're like old friends now. I really feel I have honest-to-goodness relationships with the music I play. That explains why I am enjoying this time off in a somewhat unusual sense. I've finished neglecting my musical one-on-one friends. Playing in orchestra affords me a different kind of relationship with pieces. When I hear my cello by itself, under my ear, I am communing in an unfiltered way with the music -- versus being in a section, where I'm playing in unison with a group of players, trying to have that communing in tandem. I won't get into the question of whether the playing itself has to change. That's beside the point, for now.

Orchestras are like single organisms, believe it or not. They are extraordinary things. That's why a good conductor is a very handy thing. And the relationship with the music is essentially this organism's purpose. While you're having your personal experience on stage, small pieces of your mind and soul are also in the tympanist's seat, or the English hornist's, or the 10th chair second violinist's. You cannot divorce yourself from that which comprises this organism, at least as far as the music itself is concerned. That's especially true when it's great music. I recently played a rehearsal where the entire bass section wasn't there (not typical). Before we started, my thought was that it would be okay. How much difference could it really make? Since this wasn't a large symphonic work, but more light and accompanimental, weren't they just supporting the harmonies with their bass-line? And the cellos were often doubling their pitches. But it was the weirdest-sounding Tchaikovsky I've ever experienced. It is perfect music with everybody, and something altogether different without. Everyone there was playing their parts in exactly the same way, with exactly the same spirit and intent, but the music was flat, devoid. The organism was utterly crippled.

To continue what I was saying, my hope is to combine my varying repertoire as the weeks go by, trying to strike a balance - but not be overly ambitious. To be able to play everything you want is the ultimate luxury, in my opinion. Being a stay-at-home cellist for the moment, I have no one to answer to, no deadlines. I'm not sure if I've ever felt this way before. During the initial Covid lockdown it was similar, but being sequestered somehow changed the nuance of it. You couldn't even contemplate or plan on seeing anyone outside your home. Music, by its nature, requires interconnection, even if you never play for or with others. Music emanates out into the universe from its point of origin, like ripples.