Power of Music

Led Zeppelin was blaring on the stereo and our violins trembled in the back seat. We devoured our fast food suppers as we zoomed along the dark winter highway to “the big city” two hours away from our small, rural Canadian town.

Anticipating the evening with mixed anxiety and excitement, our insides danced a quick nervous jig. We were travelling to the first of seven practices this month with a symphony orchestra and were already sick of the drive.

Ari, a 17-year-old fiddle student of mine, had never played in an orchestra but had won plenty of hardware at fiddle contests. Seeing the opportunity as great career experience, he reluctantly agreed to spend four Wednesdays and an entire weekend away from his friends in rehearsals. He was a proficient player and incredibly confident, which I hoped would keep him from bailing out before any music was played.

We were not at all prepared to play our parts since the music was held up by another orchestra until the day before. Thus the entire orchestra would have to “sight-read” (musician for “fake it or die a terrible death”) the music with the rest of the orchestra.

Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have been nervous in the least. I played first violin for a year with the symphony, but had spent a couple years pregnant then raising my son. My mind had turned into a mish-mash of strained carrots and Barney and I was worrying about everything all at once.

Did I still have what it took to play with an orchestra? Was the cat fed today? Would I be able to stay awake at the rehearsal after only 4 hours sleep the night previous? Did I leave the stove on? Would my child survive at home with my unobservant husband? What if the conductor asked me to play in front of everyone else and I spontaneously forgot how to play the violin?

Leaving behind a toddler screaming for mommy was difficult, but no where near as frightening as the impending embarrassment that could have struck if I have “lost my touch.” My nervous tension grew as we approached the city lights.

After getting lost and being locked out of the building we were late, but thankfully, so was our “boss,” the section leader. We finally settled into our seats, clutching our violins with cold, shaking hands, and were met with intimidating folders crammed full of what a non-musician would think to be inkblot exams for testing the insane. On second thought, they very well could be tonight. The conductor raised his baton and we began.

Playing with a symphony is always wonderfully intense and the enormous volume within the orchestra is fantastic. Our conductor waved his hands with enthusiasm and the complete concentration everyone was immersed in was wonderfully intense. During an overture I was busy avoiding blasting unwanted notes when there was supposed to be silence and looking out for my young pupil beside me that he was on the same track.

For me the tension melted away when we pulled “Beethoven Symphony No. 4″ out of our folders.

Playing Beethoven was what inspired me to leave my warm cozy home and family to subject myself to potential humiliation. Playing Beethoven was enough incentive to keep all of us coming to rehearsals, though most of us were volunteers and weren’t paid to rehearse or perform in the concert. Playing Beethoven was what made the 4-hour drive in winter weather and midnight bedtime worthwhile.

Surprisingly, Ari was the one slumped over a kettledrum napping during the break, and not me. My maternal instinct took over and I helped him into a chair. “He’s new to all this,” I said to another player and she smirked and let him rest in peace, with full understanding of how the late rehearsals can drain a player. Players exchanged baby pictures, ate cake, then played “Happy Birthday” for a flautist.

Bruce, not “The Maestro,” but Bruce, was a great leader who told jokes and “hung” with the rest of us. His friendliness and encouragement always made orchestra rehearsals fun for me and I’m sure all the musicians played better as a result.

At one point he asked the rookie, Ari, how he was holding up with the music. “Fine,” Ari replied. “How’s she doing,” Bruce teased, looking at me, the teacher. “Oh, I don’t know about her!” Ari said with an impish grin. We all laughed and again I felt my tension evaporate until I was just having fun again.

After playing remarkably well and avoiding the wrath of the sectionleader we drove home and reflected on the events behind us. Ari was having the time of his life and became delirious and giddy with fatigue. At one point he took his violin out of the case and started playing hyper-fast jigs in the car, his bow bumping the soft ceiling. We laughed and sang and talked.

Inside I was cherishing the feeling of being back in my element: “I’m playing Beethoven again” I kept reminding myself as the words’ euphoric effect had not yet worn off. Ari thought playing with a symphony was pretty “cool” and was glad he was giving it a try.

I thought of all the other musicians around the world who were on their way home from rehearsals and concerts, dog-tired and hopelessly broke, but content because they were feeding their souls. In the weeks to come our duo would run out of gas in the middle of nowhere, my son would nearly drive my husband batty with frustration and Ari would expose my car stereo to so-called music featuring indecent bodily noises, but it was all part of the musicians’ experience.

It allowed me to play Beethoven again.

We cranked up the Zeppelin and air-guitared all the way back home through a light blizzard, enjoying every minute of the drive together.

**Rhiannon Schmitt (nee Nachbaur) is a professional violinist and music teacher who has enjoyed creative writing for years.

Her business, Fiddleheads Violin School & Shop, has won several distinguished young entrepreneur business awards for her commitment to excellence. Her shop offers beginner to professional level instruments, accessories and supplies for very reasonable prices: Visit http://www.fiddleheads.ca

Rhiannon is also Founding President of the Shuswap Violin Society which promotes violin & fiddle music and helps young musicians in need: http://www.violinsociety.ca

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It’s Spring Break and the flowers are in bloom, but there’s no flowered scent to the rancid air in the red light district. A matted up cat scurries away from a dumpster as I pass, making my way across the littered sidewalk to a dirty little shop with a twitching neon sign, “Pawn Here.”

As I approach the cracked glass counter I sense other customers’ eyes on me. I don’t look like I belong here in my designer boots with my sweet little 5-year-old son at my side. My son points timidly at a large rusty knife with a skull engraved in the side and I’m suddenly guilty that I’ve dragged him into such a seedy place.

“I hear you have a violin,” I say to the rugged, hunched man behind the counter. I say it in a sweet, treble tone that make me further stand out in a “I’m just a girlie girl with too much money who knows nothing about violins” sort of way.

Truth be known, I am a violinist and a violin shop owner. I’m not an expert in advanced violin authenticity, but I know a good violin when I see one and I also know when to run away screaming when it’s junk. I’m here with hopes that the violin in question is worth repairing and restringing so it may be sold cheap to a student on a budget, making me a little bit of cash as well.

My hopes are not high that this will happen, but every so often there is something worth picking up. I don’t volunteer this information as past experiences have proven this always unreasonably jacks up the price about 400%. I’m not here to gouge the guy, but I don’t want to be gouged myself. Act like I know nothing and I can usually get it at an appropriate price.

I will have to dance the dance to keep this transaction fair.

The man behind the corner clears his throat loudly and eyes me suspiciously. I blink twice and smile, pink lipgloss shimmering in his clouded eyes. He glares again, slowly turns then limps to a back room, shouting over his shoulder something about how he has to go to the “special room” where rare instruments are kept.

This is pawn shop Tactic #1: Talk up the merchandise and add unrealistic mystique.

He returns with what looks like a miniature coffin covered in dust. It’s an old black wooden violin case. Predating plastic and styrofoam, these were the sorry excuses for cases that caused more harm to instruments than not since they had no padding and the weak metal latches that held them together would spontaneously unhinge, causing many a fiddle to fall to death during transport.

“This is a fine antique case, made in 1883,” says the shopkeeper. A man to my left approaches and says breathily, “those things are worth $500! They are very rare!” I keep my neutral gaze and say, “Oh yeah.”

First off, I have about 4 such cases stored under my bed since I can’t get rid of the things. Secondly, I had seen this “customer” helping move stock as I passed the shop a few days earlier. He was another employee who poses as customer to add “unbiased” credibility to the lies the shopekeeper spins. My son coughs and looks around, bored out of his mind.I maintain my blank expression. I’m starting to think the violin inside this casket is a dead end.

The shopkeeper opens the case and my suspicions are confirmed.

It is absolutely horrible. A cheap, Chinese made Corelli or Bestler fiddle from the early 1980’s. I’ve seen so many to know what they are upon first glance. It has the usual ugly starburst orange and yellow plastic finish, which has cracked due to heat exposure. The pegs are made from cheap, splintered rosewood. The chinrest and tailpiece are the cheapest shiny black plastic, with a sticky mystery stain covering the cup of the chinrest.

As if this kind violin wasn’t wretched enough in playable shape, the junk before me had been crushed and nastily glued back together. Sort of. The neck was askew and the top was coming undone at one side. I can safely say this was the most deplorable violin I have ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of rotten junk in my time.

I forcefully hold in judgement like a bulimic keeps from getting sick with company present. The shopkeeper inhales, about to launch into his spiel, using pawn shop Tactic #2: Let the lies begin.

“This here violin is a master instrument,” he says in a hushed tone. At this I am compelled to say something or I’ll burst. “It’s a Chinese Strad-copy violin from the 1980’s, most-likely a Corelli,” I interrupt quickly. Uh oh, the jig is up. He knows I’m no dupe.

But wait, he tries pawn shop Tactic #3: Lie some more. “No, M’am,” he simpers. “This is a real Stradivarius. It’s been in an attic for a long time, an undiscovered treasure.” His face has obviously rehearsed the honest, pleading expression. His knack for lying is, in a sick way, admirable.

This is beginning to annoy me, but I want to see how big of a hole he’ll dig for himself. I look at him as if wanting to be enlightened. He takes the bait and goes for tactic #4: Lie, but make it a real whopper.”This violin was made by one of Stradivarius’ students,” he lies.

I almost laugh out loud at this, considering “Stradivari,” not “Stradivarius” was the maker of Stradivarius violins and all of his instruments have been accounted for. And really, what kind of idiot thinks the most recently discovered Strad is for sale at a lousy pawn shop?

My son is shuffling his feet, but not complaining out loud. I wish he’d throw a tantrum so I’d have an excuse to leave quickly. Instead I maintain my composure and casually thank the man for his time before I turn and leave. He keeps his cool as my son and I walk out without another glance back, though to him I’m the one that got away.

We danced the delicate dance of buyer and seller, expert and swindler, and thankfully no one’s toes were stepped on. He will go on to swindle another and may do well in the end. I am happy I still believe that people are good and I don’t take it personally when they go bad.

As we drive away, my son asks why I didn’t buy the nice violin. The poor dear would buy an ice cube in Alaska. Thus I begin to teach him another lesson in life’s tricky dance moves, keeping your balance while still enjoying the music.

Twenty-nine-year-old Rhiannon Schmitt (nee Nachbaur) is a professional violinist and music teacher who has enjoyed writing for many years.

Her business, Fiddleheads Violin School and Shop, has won several distringuished young entrepreneur business awards for her comittment to excellence. The shop offers beginner to professional level instruments, accessories and supplies. http://www.fiddleheads.ca provides a rich resource of information on her school, products for sale and her many writings.

Rhiannon is Founding President of the Shuswap Violin Society. http://www.violinsociety.ca She dedicates much of her time to community music projects and helping young musicians in financial need.

She has also volunteered as an events promoter, classical music radio host and as a volunteer orchestra music arranger for her local School District in recent years.

Rhiannon currently writes music columns for two BC publications and has been featured in Australia’s “Music Teacher Magazine.” Writing allows her to be a creative “smart-ass” and to teach people that learning music is fun.

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A hand shot up out of the audience and waved emphatically, attempting to catch the celebrity’s attention. The spotlit fiddler peered out into the darkness and candidly asked, “Do I know you? Am I related to you?”

The whole room burst into laughter and I felt like I was right there with Natalie MacMaster in her kitchen enjoying a homespun “ceilidh,” (pronounced “kay-lee”) Celtic dance.

This “kitchen” had a world-famous celebrity, a top-notch symphony orchestra and over 450 paying guests at $40 each, but that’s beside the point. It was still Natalie’s kitchen.

She went on to tune her violin patiently, though hundreds of eyes watched anxiously. Perhaps she sensed the urgency when she joked that her tuning was, “Close enough for Celtic,” and the room chuckled again. Then this sweet, down-to-earth gal from Cape Breton Island picked up her fiddle and the “kitchen” went up in flames! There wasn’t a foot within earshot that could resist tapping to her phenomenal playing and dancing.

Earshot, but not eyeshot. Unfortunately, most of the audience could only see the virtuoso from the waist-up due to the level seating arrangement of the hall. Natalie’s legendary clicks and clacks of tap shoes on the hollow stage stirred me to leave my seat and watch the entire concert from the side aisle. Soon after standing, I ran back to my aisle to fetch my young violin students, who were too short to catch the fancy footwork from their seats.

In true Celtic tradition, our quiet observation from the sidelines grew into louder foot stomping, which rapidly escalated into energetic circle dancing and jigs. Natalie’s own dancing featured high kicks, quick spins and rhythmic tap dancing. As the show progressed, her traditional Scottish step dancing morphed into groovy modern hip-hop and disco moves, including the notorious and difficult “Moonwalk!”

Much to my surprise and delight, the music also went through a breathtaking metamorphosis. The concert started with traditional Celtic melodies played by the silky string sections of the symphony. Next was a Cape Breton fiddle tune in A major, what Natalie called the “Canadian key.”

After such traditional pieces, we learned that she was more multifaceted than imaginable. From a Latin mix to the gorgeous jazz ballad, “Autumn Leaves,” we were all captivated by her versatility.

Concertmaster of the Okanagan Symphony, Denis Letourneau, was as mesmerized as the audience was! The classical virtuoso beamed from ear to ear and repeatedly shook his head in awe and admiration of Natalie’s fiddling fireworks. Then he contributed to the pyrotechnics when he joined Natalie for a musical goulash where “fiddling met violining.” Their duet blended the popular fiddle tune “Devil’s Dream” with the intricate Bach Violin Partida in E!

“Denis, we have an expression back in Cape Breton,” said Natalie afterwards, “When we really dig in, we say we were ‘driving ‘er.’ Now you can go home and say last night you were really ‘driving ‘er!” Denis blushed. Natalie smiled. We all felt two worlds converge and it felt wonderful.

As our cultures blend, I think we’ll be seeing a lot more “Traditional fusion” in music. Diverse forms of music, polar as they may seem now, will soon merge and create new genres that people of all ages and walks of life can appreciate. Put a symphony orchestra, a fiddler, a funk band and a bagpiper playing on stage at the same time and everyone from Grandma to the teenager with the spiked hair will approve.

There will be growing pains, naturally. As in Natalie’s concert, there will be an obvious polarity in the audience in deciding proper concert protocol. Some people at the concert didn’t know whether get up and dance in the aisles, or to be content in sitting in quiet appreciation. Like any pioneers, we’ll find a middle ground that works for everyone. Heck, a friend of mine once created “seated dancing” in such an awkward situation.

Natalie’s charm and talent, coupled with her obvious love of music, were enough to inspire me and several other violinists present to explore new avenues of expression and technique. I couldn’t wait to get home to try some of the things she showed us so flawlessly that night.

Natalie provided further inspiration when she agreed to sign fiddles my students had brought with them. Then she stood, weary and tired, but smiling enthusiastically for group photographs with me and my fiddle students.

My students, young and old, talked about Natalie’s concert for weeks and have found a role model who will guide them into wonderful new directions.

Thank you, Natalie. You are one amazing Canadian pioneer and we love you for it!

**Rhiannon Schmitt (nee Nachbaur) is a professional violinist and music teacher who has enjoyed creative writing for years.

She currently writes columns for two Canadian publications and has been featured in Australia’s “Music Teacher Magazine.” Writing allows her to teach people that the world of music is as fun as you spin it to be!

Rhiannon, age 29, has worn the hats of businesswoman, performer, events promoter, classical music radio host and school orchestra music arranger in rural British Columbia, Canada.

Her business, Fiddleheads Violin School & Shop, has won several distinguished young entrepreneur business awards for her commitment to excellence. Her shop offers beginner to professional level instruments, accessories and supplies for very reasonable prices: Visit http://www.fiddleheads.ca

Rhiannon is also Founding President of the Shuswap Violin Society which promotes violin & fiddle music and helps young musicians in need: http://www.violinsociety.ca

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