Tuesday 15 November 2005

I'm sitting on the Glasgow-Edinburgh train, having just finished writing in a translation of the text of BWV 170 into my score. I only studied German for two years at school so I need a crib. But it's very  useful to see how Bach draws out all kinds of symbolism in the notes. It's like a religious film score.

Meg Munck kindly gave me a loan of her Ahlborn B6 organ (and a shot of her and Thomas's fantastic new dismantlable chamber organ but that's another story) to try out. I was hoping that an electronic box that does passable chamber organ impersonations in different temperaments could prove useful. And it does up to a point - the sounds are really good, only let down by an unconvincing bottom two-thirds of an octave. But the unweighted keyboard is the real psychological obstacle. I'm a big advocate of digital pianos for serious musical purposes, as good ones actually feel like musical instruments to play. But an unweighted keyboard that makes an organ sound just doesn't feel right: you can't convince yourself that you're making real music rather than faking it. Nonetheless it could be a useful money-saver for use in rehearsals sometimes, for those occasions when hiring and tuning a chamber organ are out of our budget. The valiant John Butt has agreed to play it in rehearsal in a couple of weeks' time.

Other organological issues: I got an email on Sunday from master flute-maker Rod Cameron at his winter residence in Mendocino, CA expressing interest in building a transposing melodica (or at least one at 415Hz). Nice. I wonder what happened to that video he once shot of the Chris Norman Ensemble rehearsing in my back garden with a rugby match going on the background ...

[later, on Edinburgh-Glasgow train]
Meg was tuning for the SCO rehearsal so we had time to discuss music, computer and bike technologies before I went to the wonderful Edinburgh Bicycle Cooperative and tried not to spend too much money. 

I learnt a few things about Bach basslines in the course of the afternoon, and discovered that I play them much differently than I did 10 years ago. I used to say of Bill Carter's continuo playing that he didn't play continuo, he played the guitar [sorry if you're reading this, Bill, I never said this to your face], and that this was much more interesting and more risky. Rather than following a set of principles or rules, he played some real music on the instrument, that would pretty much fit with whatever else was going on. I think I've finally got to that stage now, where rather than 'playing continuo' I play the harpsichord. This is quite satisfying for me - but I wonder what it sounds like to everyone else. I've also discovered that I tend to play less when the orchestra is playing loudly, and I play more when they're quiet. But this is perhaps because I've now figured out how to play quiet music with lots of notes in it, which on the harpsichord is quite difficult.

Meanwhile, my list of urgent phone calls isn't getting any shorter.

[later still, back home]
I got a message tonight from Alison in Buffalo, NY that a concert she's playing later in the month in Zaragoza (Spain rather than Mexico) with the English Concert has been cancelled. There's nothing unusual in this - if anything, last-minute cancellations are becoming more common in the last year or two - but the knock-on effects are interesting. Our Early Music Show broadcast in a week and a bit was arranged to happen in London so that she could get to a rehearsal immediately afterwards, a rehearsal which may not now take place. So now simply because of (presumably) a promoter's oversight in another country, the other three of us are flying in to play a live broadcast in a venue that's not ideal, and with limited availability of keyboard instruments that restricts the music we can play. Which is very frustrating. But not unusual. In fact, given the obstacles that all musicians have to overcome, it's a wonder that any good music ever gets made at all ...