Ambiguity: interpreting conflict or hardship
I’ve been corresponding a bit with Jerry Read Smith, who made my hammered dulcimer. Among other things, we’ve been talking about my difficulties tuning.
Last year, when I was working on What Child Is This?, I had a particularly bad tuning day — so bad that I had to give up in hysterical tears after attempting to tune just a handful of strings — so bad I was almost ready to throw the dulcimer away. I rarely call anyone, but that day I called Jerry, needing a physical ear to hear my complaint, and a voice to soothe me.
He wondered if perhaps it was time for me to move on from dulcimer, if that was the direction God wanted me to go. Terrifying thought. But since I’m committed first to God, and theoretically willing to obey him even if it means giving up dulcimer or anything else that I love, I spent some time thinking and reflecting and praying about that possibility.
Hardship can often mean a closed door, a stop sign, a redirection.
But sometimes it can mean a challenge to press on, to be courageous, to accept suffering for the sake of joy that lies beyond it, or for its sanctifying efficacy.
I remember facing that possibility when I was dating my husband. The idea that conflict is a natural part of relationship, and not always a sign that I should give up the relationship.
Same thing with church. Churches are supposed to be communities — relationships — and so conflict is natural there, too. Sometimes the conflict is best resolved by leaving, but sometimes it’s better to stay and face it and work through it.
This tuning thing seems to be the same way; it may be some suffering that I have to accept for the sake of the joy of playing dulcimer, a weakness that is good for my ego, an opportunity to be courageous without being willful, a crucible for my sanctification.
First sweater day
Today I wore a sweater. Over a long-sleeved shirt.
The trio was scheduled to play at the market at 11:30. Usually I go earlier (market starts at 9) and play solo until they arrive, but today I didn’t leave my house until after ten, when the temperature passed 50. I even wore my fingerless gloves, in case lake breezes made market temperatures even cooler than up here on the hill.
I’m feeling a bit “off” on this first sweater day.
Perhaps some of it is the change in seasons.
Very little is lingering unease about that concert I wrote about previously; the act of writing about it was cathartic and helped dissipate some of the intensity of it.
Some of it I think was related to performance concerns: I need to remember that audiences can’t read my mind, and so I need to remember to smile sometimes and make eye contact, and try to get my body language to convey my enjoyment of the music — but it’s a bit exhausting to be mindful of that sort of thing while playing.
Some of it may well be related to planning my own concert: the excitement of celebrating five years of playing this amazing instrument, mixed with insecurity and loneliness and the hard work of planning a structured event, including logistics like renting chairs, organizing refreshments, and thinking about the “stage” set up.
Mixing and editing
Yesterday I started mixing and editing “Down the Brae / Ballydesmond Polka #2 / Ballydesmond Polka #3,” the most recent track for The Hanshaw Trio‘s home recording, and today I just finished mixing it down.
Mixing involves things like panning, effects, and volume. I set the panning so that the fiddle is 33% to the right, the dulcimer 33% left, and the guitar is centered. Then I add just a hair of reverb to the fiddle.
The interesting part is drawing the volume envelopes. If I had a mixing board, I would move the faders manually; newer boards can record this movement so that mixing can be automated. With the software we’re using, Cakewalk’s Guitar Tracks, I could do the same thing, using the mouse to move the faders and having the program record that movement. However, I find it easier to use their envelope method instead.
You start by creating an envelope, which shows up as a straight line on the track, with a dot (node) at each end. You can then add more nodes and define the movement from one to the next (jump, linear, fast curve, slow curve).
My first task is to mix large chunks, like sections where dulcimer has the melody or sections where the guitar is fingerpicking. Then I may have to make smaller, shorter adjustments like when a particular guitar strum goes over 0 dB (which creates distorted noise), or where the fiddler stepped away from his mic a bit and therefore needs a boost. I think some folks use a tool called compression to deal with the guitar spike problem, but it’s easy enough just to add a dipping node at each spike, so I haven’t explored the compression option.
This particular medley involved editing the best “Down the Brae” take with the best “Ballydesmonds” take. We started the “Ballydesmonds” takes with the last two measures of “Down the Brae”; the overlap gives me more elbow room to find the best editing point. I ended up switching dulcimer tracks at the point where I hit a bass note before starting a set of arpeggios leading into the “Ballydesmonds.” I switched the fiddle and guitar over a bit later after their last “Down the Brae” notes had faded out.
Today’s work involved finishing mixing the individual tracks, and then mixing down the three tracks into a single stereo track, which will later be converted into a WAV file ready to burn onto a CD.
I like this medley. It has a lot of energy and momentum. And I’m especially impressed with the guitar work on this one. Kudos to Craig.
Lunchtime!
To go or not to go
On October 2, there’s going to be a concert. I’m not sure if I’m going or not.
Because this is a concert I might have been part of.
And I just might be immature enough not to be able to handle being there very well.
I once offered to another musician that if he ever wanted some dulcimer on any of his stuff, I’d be pleased to play. He mentioned this dulcimer player who would be in the area this fall, and would I be interested in doing a show with them. I found this idea rather intimidating — as I tend to find lots of things — and said so but also said yes, please count me in and let me know what happens.
Nothing for weeks.
Then an announcement from the dulcimer player: here’s the concert date, and I’d love to do a workshop, would you pass the word to your dulcimer club, thanks.
I guess I’m not going to be in the show.
Is it because I admitted being intimdated, and they figured they didn’t want to work with someone who is that easily scared?
Is it because they don’t like the way I think, the things I believe, or other aspects of my personality?
Is it because they don’t think my music is up to par?
Is it because they just wanted to keep things simple and not get involved in something new?
Then I get the official email “poster” for the event, with all the details. It’ll be mainly the dulcimer player, who also sings and plays flute and guitar, and also the other musician will do a set, and then — then there will be “jamming and singing.”
If I go, do I stay for the jam? Can I join in the jam without feeling defensively self-promotional and competitive?
Not knowing how they feel about me and my music creates all this anxiety and uncertainty; I have no idea how to behave, how to think, what attitude or expectations to have, if I decide to go.
Will I ever grow up?
(Somewhat more) advanced engineering
Last night we worked on Down the Brae / Ballydesmond Polka #2 / Ballydesmond Polka #3.
All three tunes are in Am; Down the Brae is a march, which has a similar feel to the Irish polkas. The chord changes get a bit closer together as we go from tune to tune, and each tune also gets a little more note-y, and there’s some cool F chord substitutions in the last tune, so there’s an increase in energy just from stringing these three together in this order.
We spent a good bit of the evening finalizing our arrangement decisions; our arrangement is fairly busy, but we think the similarities of the tunes help keep it grounded.
Down the Brae starts with an intro of guitar fingerpicking, then a fiddle and dulcimer call and response, then both together — just twice through the tune. A set of fast dulcimer arpeggios leads into fiddle and guitar playing the A part of Ballydesmond #2, then guitar switches to backup and dulcimer joins the melody for the B part, and on into the second time through. Dulcimer and guitar start Ballydesmond #3 while fiddle plays some bass notes (how cool is that, fiddle playing bass!), then he joins the melody on the second A part. The second time through this tune dulcimer plays a harmony part, and we end with a bang.
Because the arrangement is fairly complicated, and because the dulcimer arpeggios and switch from finger-picking to strumming create a natural break, we tried recording Down the Brae and the Ballydesmonds separately. We started the Ballydesmond takes with the last two measures of Down the Brae, to allow for some overlap of sound, particularly the dulcimer’s sustain, and to allow for more elbow room for editing.
Today I hope to choose the best takes of each part and try the edit; I hope it works!
Rudiments and rhythm
Yesterday I tried some percussion rudiments practice on my hammered dulcimer. Last weekend I had a workshop on the topic at the Upper Potomac Dulcimer Fest; I’d done some visiting afterwards and got home Thursday, and recovering from the trip and other things kept me busy over the weekend.
The first thing I worked on was the single stroke roll, RLRLRLRLR, increasing tempo to find the point of control.
Then I tried a few paradiddles (RLRR / LRLL), but my left hand was so uneven I decided to work on some partial paradiddle exercises instead. The right-handed ones — like RLRLRLRL / RLRRL — were easy enough but not likely to develop my left hand. (Duh.) So I did a bunch of left-handed ones. It’s difficult to keep my left hand relaxed, especially when it sometimes bounced too many times or just stuck to the string. I was tempted to try funny angles or do weird things with my thumb or fingers to try to control a nice double bounce. The other thing is that when I use left hand lead, I usually flick the back of the hammer with my middle or ring finger, which has generally helped me keep the hammer straight and get a clean, consistent, strong sound. Perhaps the combination of tension, weird movements, and the flicking are responsible for the fact that I had to quit because my left wrist hurt. I don’t think I was actually moving the wrist all that much.
I noticed that there’s a different timing principle for paradiddles than for another exercise we’d done in the workshop. This exercise is an alternation between a bar of single hits: R L R L R L R L, and a bar of double bounces: RRLLRRLLRRLLRRLL. In this exercise, the hands move with the same timing, so that the individual bounces are twice as fast as the singles. The partial paradiddles, though, involve the hands moving more quickly with singles, so that each individual bounce takes up the same time as a single.
This morning I played a bit more with the 7/8 pattern I’d learned in a workshop on odd-time tunes: R L R L R L R / L R L R L R L. I started out playing the pattern with my right hand on a note on the right side of the treble bridge, and my left on the left-side note opposite. Then I experimented with letting the accents fall on other notes, which was fun and actually a bit easier, because the left hand accents felt more purposeful. I could see a simple tune come out of this if I keep playing with it.
A day with Dan Landrum
The highlight of this year’s Upper Potomac Dulcimer Fest was having classes with Dan Landrum all day Saturday: “Odd-Time Tunes” in the morning, and “Percussion Rudiments” in the afternoon.
At the time I was looking over the festival brochure, I didn’t really know much about Dan, except that he was touring with Yanni and that he played a Dusty Strings D-600, like my former teacher, Tim Seaman; it was mainly the class titles that caught my interest.
I mentioned in February how I admire Malcolm Dalglish‘s playing and can’t figure out what all he’s doing a lot of the time. I’ve noticed similar rhythmic stuff in others, like Cliff Cole or Rick Davis, or this fellow Nate that I met at the Farmers Market. T. J. Osborne, who I met through EverythingDulcimer.com, helped me out a bit over the phone with some ideas, and Sam Edelston also had some interesting exercises at the Cranberry Gathering this July. Both were helpful, but I didn’t seem to be making much progress.
Part of it is a matter of learning styles. I don’t do very well learning on my own. This is partly about external motivation being easier than internal, which is a fault; it’s another symptom of how I don’t often enough locate myself within myself, but in what other folks do for me or say about me and so on. It’s partly about relationship, though; music is just more fun and more interesting with other people.
Part of it is a matter of time. As exciting as it was to meet Malcolm after his concert, it’s not the best time to learn about his techniques. Likewise, a phone call with T. J. or a ten minute workshop segment with Sam is not much time to understand and develop a technique.
So, a total of five and a half hours of percussion and rhythm workshops sounded very appealing. Even better, when Dan introduced himself Friday evening, I felt immediately comfortable with him.
The first two hours was “Odd-Time Tunes.” I was the only person who had signed up, perhaps because Joanie had included it in the page of workshop descriptions, but not in the page of workshop times and titles — oops. Fortunately, we were able to have the class anyway.
I played a few things for him — my “Variations on a Three-Year-Old Theme,” as part of answering his question about my musical background, and my arrangement of “What Child Is This? / Menuet,” because he asked me to play my most rhythmically challenging piece and I couldn’t think of anything, and a bit of a Bach prelude to demonstrate how convenient it is to have my extra bass notes on both sides so I can hit them with either hand.
He taught some patterns and exercises to develop a feel for 7/8 and 5/4 rhythms, and played bits and pieces of tunes to demonstrate how the patterns work. Much to my surprise, I found that I could do some of the exercises. The ones that I particularly stumbled over, he was able to break down into something easier to catch. This was very exciting and relieving — it was exactly the kind of thing I’d been wanting to learn, and here I was actually learning some of it. I might have even learned enough to try composing some stuff that would use some of these patterns.
He also showed me his Linear Chromatic, an interesting dulcimer developed by James Jones. Most dulcimers lay out the notes in diatonic scale boxes. A diatonic box has four notes on one side, like D, E, F#, and G, and four on the other side, like A, B, C#, and D. Some dulcimers, like mine, put the extra notes on additional bridges, which requires big reaches and unusual hammering patterns. The linear chromatic puts them into the box, so that the notes on one side would be D, D#, E, F, F#, G, and I guess G#, then on the other side you’d have A, A#, B, C, C#, D. What this means is that, with a bit of a stretch, you can still use the hammering patterns you learn on a regular dulcimer, but it’s much easier to use the chromatic notes. It was interesting to see some of the ways Dan’s found to take advantage of this layout.
In the afternoon, there were several of us in the “Percussion Rudiments” class, which involved learning single stroke rolls, paradiddles, double stroke rolls, and a host of little exercises that could help us master various aspects of each rudiment.
Dan’s teaching method in this class involved two particularly useful concepts.
One is the point of control. First of all, he had us play a single stroke roll faster and faster, until we felt we were starting to lose control, signalled by sloppy rhythm and by muscle tension. We could then determine an optimum practicing tempo by backing off slightly to the point of control. Secondly, he had us work on an exercise with a double hit by one hammer. You can either strike twice, at least at slower tempos, or let the hammer bounce twice with one stroke. We started slowly, striking twice, and gradually increased the tempo and started letting the hammer bounce instead of tightly controlling it with two strokes. In this case, we were sort of blurring the point of control.
The other concept is the burst. A single stroke roll, for example, is continuous: Right Left R L R L, etc. But you can generally play just three notes — RLR — much faster than you can play a continuous roll. So you can practice this or other small bits of an exercise in short repeated bursts. One I particularly liked involves single hits RLRLRLRL followed by double bounces RRLLRRLLRRLLRRLL; the idea is that the motion and timing (both phrases should be the same length) should stay the same, allowing one to get into and out of bounces cleanly.
It was great to have time to try things and get feedback. And I felt that I was learning techniques in a context — rhythmic patterns — that seemed likely to translate somewhat naturally into my playing. Before, for example, I might try to just practice isolated double bounces with my left hand, but even if I could do a few in a drill like that, they weren’t showing up when I played tunes.
I wonder if I’ll have the discipline to actually practice these things on my own…
I miss having a teacher, and I think Dan’s teaching style would be a good match for my learning style. Plus I just like him. Too bad he’s in Chattanooga.
Comfortable in your own skin
Going to the Upper Potomac Dulcimer Festival each fall is a good strong blow to my ego mixed with some encouragement and flattery. It’s good for me, but also very unsettling, and it takes some time to metabolize.
To start with, here’s some of the encouraging things:
* At the great weekly jam at O’Hurley’s General Store, the bass player requested my original tune “Third Street Market.” I first played this tune for this jam session two festivals ago, and it’s amazing to me that they remember it and like it enough to ask for it. National hammered dulcimer champion Mark Wade, who was to my left, even commented that it was a nice tune.
* Paul Oorts, an amazing musician (who happens to be married to Karen Ashbrook, one of the country’s premier dulcimists), agreed to accompany me on my tune “Fallen” for the Friday open mic, along with my friend Rick Davis. Rick played the psaltery part I’d written and played for my Christmas CD, and Paul just made something up based on the chords and the melody — rich and deep and incredibly well-suited to the tune. Also, Karen, and Maggie Sansone, and a few other folks commented positively on the piece afterwards.
* When Dan Landrum found me to talk about what we should do in his morning class (since I was the only one who’d signed up, and since we needed to find a location for it), he mentioned that he had been looking forward to meeting me, apparently because he’d read some of my comments on EverythingDulcimer.com or the hammered dulcimer email list.
* Joanie, who directs the festival, seemed to make a point of letting me know that she liked having me there, that I was helpful and worked hard, and that she intended to have me teach again.
Then there were the ego blows:
* Friday afternoon Rick and I were in charge of leading a slow jam. There were more people there than I’d expected, and I wasn’t sure what Rick expected or planned or what everyone else expected. I didn’t feel very helpful.
* Kitty, a woman who has studied with Ken Kolodner, mistakenly asked me for a private lesson on chords and backup, thinking I might have something to show her from a different perspective or something. I had very little idea what to do, since she already knew so much of what I usually teach about such things, not to mention all the other stuff she already knew. I felt my limits as a teacher, not only in material but in how to present it usefully.
* I participated in a regular jam after the open mic, and while at first I knew some of the tunes or could follow the chords of unfamiliar ones, it got to a point where I didn’t know any of the tunes and couldn’t hear anything but a constant A chord. All the tunes sounded alike to me, and I couldn’t even tell if I was playing things that sounded okay with them or not. I also got a little bored — perhaps a defense against feeling incompetent.
* Most of all, I heard so much fabulous music and saw and heard amazing technique and expression — particularly Christie Burns’ ease with syncopation, and everyone’s ease and grace in general — far beyond what I think I can do.
This sort of thing is unsettling for two main reasons:
First, because it is difficult to integrate. How can it be that I have enough skill or giftedness to provoke compliments and interest, and also enough inadequacy to feel like a failure at some of the same things? To be complimented for AND incompetent in expressiveness, composing, arranging, rhythm, teaching, helpfulness with jams?
I am tempted to think that only one is possible — either I’m nothing or I’m all that. I am also tempted to believe what people tell me about myself, as if I don’t know who I am. And so I seem to waffle between heights of arrogance and ambition on the one hand, or depths of insecurity and failure on the other. Any appearance of humility I might have is likely to be motivated by fear: fear of my own arrogance, fear of being exposed as less than people think or expect of me. It gets to the point sometimes where my attempts to deflect compliments look more arrogant than if I simply accepted them.
For example, in his afternoon class, whenever Dan started a topic we had discussed in our one-on-one morning class, he mentioned my name very casually — “as I told Marcy earlier…” Perhaps no one else even noticed, but I felt embarrassingly in a spotlight while also feeling flattered by the attention: it aggravated both my sense of grandeur and my sense of inadequacy — and my sense that neither one needs aggravating.
Dan seems to have something that I envy whenever I see it: being comfortable in his own skin. Perhaps he also sometimes has temptations to arrogance or insecurity or to depend on what other people think of him, but I didn’t see it like I see it in myself. He seems to know who he is, what his gifts are, what he lacks, and is at peace with it all.
The other reason this experience is unsettling is that it is potentially divisive. Ambition has a history of breaking up marriages, and this festival tends to fan the flames of my ambition. Plus there are the things I love about the festival that my husband would not enjoy. He doesn’t like dulcimer music, or Thai food, and perhaps he and the friends I have there would not enjoy one another. I find it disturbing that I love this trip without him so much, and I wish I knew how we could be that exciting for one another.
Recording, wedding, festival, crosswalks?
For a few months, a few streets downtown have been closed. Yesterday, on route to church, we found them open. And what marvelous work has been done? No, not repairing the cracks and potholes due to our heavy winters, but fancy new red cement crosswalks with decorative white paint arrows! Oh, thank you, Ithaca!
Last Thursday The Hanshaw Trio met to record again after a haitus of two months. I’m still working on mixing and editing the track, a medley of O’Keefe’s Slide, Derrane’s, and Trip to Durrow. We recorded six takes, and two of them are possibilities for the first two tunes, and three of them for the final tune.
Right now I’m working on edits using take 4 for the first half, edited with take 3, 4, or 5 for the final tune. Yeah, even using take 4 for both parts requires editing, because we missed our entrance for Durrow and just waited for the previous chord to fade out, then took it from there — so I have to edit out that gap.
Yesterday I played for an afternoon wedding. It was lovely — nice weather, a nice setting (we played from a balcony overlooking a yard edged with trees), and a nice mix of Celtic and classical music on harp and hammered dulcimer. We used my new pa, and found out that, as I suspected, better mics (borrowed from one of my trio partners) do work better with it, so now I know what my business’ next purchase will be.
This Thursday I am headed to West Virginia for the Upper Potomac Dulcimer Fest. It’s my favorite dulcimer festival (even though I’ve only been to one other). I was supposed to teach a class on modes, but only one person signed up so we canceled it. The good news is I get to go to a class on percussion techniques that was scheduled at the same time.
Things I’m especially looking forward to are:
- Playing my tune “Fallen” in Friday’s open mic, with my friend Rick Davis on psaltery and musician extraordinaire Paul Oorts on guitar. I think Paul is awesome, and I’m so excited that he agreed to accompany us.
- Eating at Shepherdstown’s Thai restaurant. Mmmm.
- Visiting friends for a few days afterwards — including a couple I haven’t seen since last year, who have a new baby, and some girls from the youth group I used to work with, whom I haven’t seen for two years.
Anyway, I doubt I’ll be blogging again until I get back.
