I have a story to tell.
Actors:

Violin 1 – Me, Violin 2 - (younger sister), Viola and Cello (older siblings) Bass- Dad,  Nyckleharpa-Mom
This is the story of the 8 year-old me – a chubby little girl with tight-looped braids on either side of my head, breaking my accustomed silence by interrupting the normal-heated (nasty) discourse at the dinner table.
Act 1
The opening statement is me asking my Mom if I could take violin lessons from the school and eagerly sliding her the permission-slip and a pen.  The clanging dissonances are the disdainful-sneering from my older siblings with lots of side-eye and bad-vibes.
The silence was profound- I really had everyone's attention so I ask again as my Dad’s bass line rumbles in surprise.  My final high A after this 2nd ASK was Please!-with a glissando from my younger sister.
My Mom – understanding how important this was for this little person--replies with measured fierceness and a smile-with slower notes- Yes.  You.  Can. Then faster, same pitches. YESYOUCAN.  accompanied by the disgruntled older siblings and slight grumpiness from my Dad  Then a bright A-Major chord from me—YAY!!!
Then Silence and a Key change as the household goes about it’s normal activities complete with the omnipresent dissonances from my older siblings.  My Mom has the main theme. She was a tough WW2 era, x-Marine aviation-electrician turned Big-City Newspaper reporter.  She worked from home and my life was punctuated the sounds of her working in the basement. You can hear the rhythm of her manual typewriter and the DING of the manually returned carriage. (My husband pointed out to me that the typewriter also sounds a bit like a metronome.) While this theme is going on you can hear simple violin notes and rhythms to show my practice and improvement over time. I use open strings first, advance to more complicated rhythms and then end with a triumphant ascending D-Major scale and a playful descending glissando. Triumph!

Act 2
My black 1940’s vintage shaped case was open, and the instrument was gone. The connection I felt to this instrument and music in general was eerie, and unnoticed by my family. Then I heard this startling noise in the kitchen. I was only 8 and didn’t know how to play very well, but could recognize the amazing wrongness of the sound—violin in distress. My older brother was playing it horribly and doing dangerous things with it to upset me.  I could hear my violin whimper and cry.  He teased me and ignored my mother’s pleas to stop.
My fury was so furious that my two braids practically levitated on either side of my head while I trembled near tears and shrieked: “Give me back my violin, right now!”
Time seemed to stand still and things got very quiet. A QUIET that was somehow loud. It was like I had cut through a veil and I was a larger presence. He strangely stopped. I confidently snatched my violin from him and stowed it in its case. By this time I had drawn a crowd.
As I left the kitchen, in silence, time reset and the “quiet” was normal. The household resumes...All watching were amazed that I had the moxie at age 8 to stand up to a large male. That was the first time I noticed the power of this instrument and the changes it made in me.

Tags: bass, cello, nyckelharpa, viola, violins, week 32 2022, View by:Daisy