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Why Own an Instrument Stand for Your Violin, Viola, or Cello?

  
  
  
Alberta Barnes

Pretty much every musician has a music stand, but not every musician has an instrument stand. Have you thought about the benefits to owing a violin stand or a cello stand? Here are four things to think about!

1. Motivation to Practice. Having the instrument out on an instrument stand can be a great way to motivate yourself (or kids, especially!) to practice. It can be irritating to have to open the case and get everything set up correctly, but when the instrument is immediately accessible it is also that much more motivating to play it.

2. Time Saver. If you have to squeeze in practice time between the million other things inyour day then taking your instrument out and packing it up again can waste valuable practice time! With the instrument safely out of its case, you can move away from and return to your instrument to practice without fumbling with shoulder rests or endpins for those valuable minutes.

3. Useful at Gigs. 
Bringing a violin stand or a cello stand to your gig with you can prove veryuseful. A violin stand is a must-have if you switch between instruments at gigs. Or, if you are playing only the one instrument, it can be a much more secure way to hold the instrument during breaks than simply perching your violin on your chair.

4. A Way to Display Your Instrument. When used at home, the cello stand can be a beautiful way to safely display your treasure. It thereby enhances the ambience of the room much more than leaving it in the case would!

If you’re looking for a violin stand, we have several options: 











Three Ways to Improve Musicianship Outside the Classroom

  
  
  
christian howes

Christian Howes shares a terrific new blog entry with his top three ways to keep practicing when you're not in the practice room. Leave a comment below with your own "downtime" practice tips!  

Good musicians practice.

Great musicians practice better. And they gain an extra edge by using their time wisely outside the practice room.



A Silent Violin?

  
  
  
Violin Practice

Aren’t violins made to be heard? Why would you want a silent one, then? Well, silent violins have several advantages (besides just being fun to play!). Here are some thoughts!

Making It: My Life as a Working Musician

  
  
  
Susan

In May of this year, we shared an article with our email subscribers titled "The Value of Music Degree." The article argued that a music degree, while it may not lead directly to a job, is still worth earning because of how much it can enrich one's life. The response was overwhelming: many musicians disagreed with the article and felt that their degree sent them out into a tough economy with few practical skills; others could not imagine their lives without their music degree, or without music at the center of their lives, no matter how tough it is to make a living as a musician. One of our readers, Susan Speicer, agreed to share her experience as a recent grad of Washington State University's School of Music. Even though Susan hasn't landed a symphony job (yet!), she's doing fine: she teaches and works at violin shop; she serves as an administrator for a youth symphony; she coaches and makes violin jewelry; and she writes a music blog. What we love about Susan, besides her obvious dedication to music, is her willingness to try out the different niches of a career in music, whether that's teaching, business, administration, or playing.   

Shinichi Suzuki – The Man and the Violin Method

  
  
  

Notes from a Suzuki Mom: Keeping Joy Alive

  
  
  
Nerissa Nields

In today's post, Nerissa Nields talks about the big fear every music-loving parent encounters at some point: If I push my child too hard, will he just end up hating music? For me, the highlight of Nerissa's post is the moment she realizes that both grace – the thing that happens when you least expect it – and hard work make music (and teaching music) possible.  

Johnny had been showing up for his guitar lessons like a mini-brunette normal-eyed Johnny Winter. He continues to hone his moves, if not his chops, on his little acoustic, or a boom whacker, or what appears to be part of a Hot Wheels racing apparatus. At a recent lesson, he was given this for homework:

-Stand in zero position (feet to the right of the stool)
-Now move to one position (left foot moves about a foot to the left, so legs are wide)
-Pick up guitar with right hand
-Hold guitar with the head up.


Also, he can clap back rhythms that I or Lila clap or play for him. I was pretty sure he was well on the way to superstardom. Or at least maybe eligible for this month’s Suzuki Springfest, a heart-lifting end of the year all day extravaganza held in Downtown Northampton. Suzuki students from every studio mass together in various outdoor locales and play through their repertoire. Lila did this last spring on the courthouse lawn. I noticed that Jeremy, Johnny’s teacher, had a group of his guitar students participate. I dreamed of Johnny sitting on his tiny guitar stool, holding his guitar in place as the older guitarists played. He’d be watching them all, with a mix of reverence and chutzpah, thinking, “Next year, man, I’ll show you all!”

Well, this didn’t exactly happen. Instead, Johnny watched for about ten seconds, then kicked off his shoes and ran across the lawn to slide down the stone banister in front of the courthouse.

Instead, we walked into Jeremy’s classroom today, and after about ten minutes, Johnny lay on the floor. “No,” he said to everything Jeremy asked him to do. “Dat is so boring.” When Jeremy asked him to clap, he lay on his back and idly swung his arms together so that his hands missed each other. When Jeremy asked him if he’d like to learn “two position,” Johnny said, “Dat is so boring.” (Two position is when you sit down on the stool. I have to agree; pretty boring.)

It came up toward the end of the lesson, when I mentioned to Jeremy that I’d been away for the past two weekends doing gigs, that perhaps there was some general free floating anger that had attached itself to the guitar. “You went away and I didn’t even wike dat,” Johnny said from his side lying position on the floor.

We called it a day a bit early, and actually decided to take a hiatus from lessons until September. I felt a heaviness in my heart. Had I pushed him too hard? Should we quit now before we squeeze all the love out of the guitar for him?

Emily, our violin teacher gave us some perspective. “When I started, it took me six months just to stand still for one minute” [which is part of the Suzuki teaching pedagogy.] “I used to hide under the piano bench. It took me another two years to learn my Twinkle variations. But I knew the music because my parents played it every day. You have to take the long view. You are giving him invaluable life skills that will apply to every aspect of his life.”

I looked up the word “student,” as I noticed it shared a root with “studio” and also, of course, “study,” which is what we called the room my father worked in, a room we’d refer to nowadays as his office.”Study” comes from the Latin studere, to apply oneself with diligence; or earlier to what’s known as “Proto-Indo-European language, or PIE: to “to push, stick, knock, beat.” I like this. Sounds like music. Next fall we’ll come back to Jeremy and we’ll push the tiniest bit more. Or maybe we’ll just knock out the beat with a couple of sticks. Either way, nothing worthwhile comes without an application of some kind of diligence and then that magic Other: grace.

After Springfest, post-dinner, Lila and I practiced her violin, and Johnny joined us, red boom whacker air-guitar flailing along to “Go Tell Aunt Rhodie” through Brahms’s Waltz. And then, for the first time ever, he pulled his little guitar stool out of the music trunk and set it up in front of his stool, picked up his real) guitar and set it carefully on his left knee. “Wook, Mama!” And he began painstakingly to pluck out notes on the strings.

So far we haven’t knocked his love affair with the guitar out of him yet.

How a Three-Year-Old Has a Suzuki Guitar Lesson

  
  
  
Suzuki Guitar Lesson

Nerissa Nields, one of our regular contributors, writes about Suzuki guitar lessons with her son Johnny. Nerissa describes how Johnny, initially uninterested in guitar lessons, comes around to them and even says that he "wuvs" them. Nerissa's thoughtful entry shows just how impulsive and lovely kids can be, though it also expresses faith in music's hold on us, whether we're three-and-a-half-years-old or parents ourselves.
 


So we started Johnny on Suzuki guitar lessons. Yes, he is three-and-a-half. No, he can’t understand the difference between my gently suggesting that he might not want to dump his glass of watercolor paint wash all over the table and cruel and unusual punishment. (At the top of his lungs: “Mama, you are being SO mean to me!”) Yes, I am probably crazy.

Playing and Injury

  
  
  
Schumann excerpt

Have you struggled with a playing-related injury? Or if not, have you made a commitment to injury prevention? Read on for some ideas on how to deal with or prevent injury from playing.

For Parents: Why Music?

  
  
  
Money

Playing a string instrument is a tremendous investment for both the student and the teacher. Money, time, energy ... so is it worth it? Based on my own experience, I believe that this sacrifice is one that reaps endless rewards.

Notes from a Suzuki Mom: Suzuki Mom Tricks

  
  
  
Nerissa Nields

So many of you have responded to our Notes from a Suzuki Mom series that I contacted Nerissa Nields and asked for another article. Nerissa kindly agreed to allow me to repost her latest Suzuki entry from her blog Singing in the Kitchen. In today's entry, Nerissa shares a terrific practice game and again highlights the rich give-and-take of teaching and parenting. If you'd like to contribute to our blog – as a string musician, parent, or teacher – email me at joec@sharmusic.com. 

It’s been a good week, for a change, for the Reluctant Suzuki Mom, AKA me, Nerissa. Last week, we participated in a bi-annual recital in which Lila played Bach’s Minuet 3 (From the Anna Magdelena Notebook). We sat next to a ten-year-old Suzuki prodigy, an absolutely darling girl and her equally darling mother. I know we are not supposed to compare kids, parenting, how accomplished a student is by his/her age, or any of that in the Suzuki world (or any world) but I have to say, for me, this mother/daughter duo walk on water. And so when the recital was over, I came over to praise the playing of the ten-year-old (who played the Vivaldi Concerto in A Minor–2nd Movement: Largo– with the sensitivity of a thirty-five-year old virtuoso, using her whole body to make her violin sing. Anyone who thinks Suzuki kids are automatons needs to check this young lady out.) In the course of our conversation, the mother, very kindly and probably erroneously, said we were on the same trajectory as her daughter. “But did you have Suzuki wars?” I asked hopefully.

“Of course!” she said. “In fact, we’ve made a truce that goes like this: mom stays out of practice. Which is fine with me. I love to listen now. My days as Suzuki dominatrix are over.” (Okay, she didn’t really say dominatrix, but some days that’s how I feel.) “But I do remember what worked when my daughter was your daughter’s age was to play lots of games.” And she gave us a great idea for a practice game.

It goes like this: we start with this great deck of cards, a mere $8 from our violin teacher. I take the eight or so cards representing the pieces we are playing that day and hide them around the room. Lila tunes up, takes her bow, plays her G scale and then goes off on a scavenger hunt. Whichever card she finds first is the one she plays next. Sometimes we have to play a little “Hot/Cold” to find each and every one. But it sure has made practice war-free this week.

On the other hand, we got snagged up on a “reading rhythm” exercise. Lila is just beginning to learn to read music. And it’s as fascinating to me to watch her learn to read notes as it is to watch her learn to read words. One thing that’s clear is that it’s a lot easier for her to recognize the notes on the staff and name them by their letter names than it is for her to comprehend the rhythmic notation. Understanding rhythmic notation is just as crucial to learning how to read music as knowing where to place the spaces between the letters is to learning to distinguish words from a sea of letters. Standard time was not so hard. But now we are learning three-quarter time. For the first week, every time she tried to read the very first exercise–three quarter notes, then a half note and a quarter, then three quarters, then a half note and a quarter–she collapsed in a fury on the carpet. And anything I said, or tried to say because I usually couldn’t get out three words, got shouted down. She refused to try clapping the rhythm. And when I clapped the rhythm, she ran screaming out of the room with her hands over her ears. She really doesn’t like being told she has something wrong. I can’t imagine where she got that from.

But a couple of days ago, after an especially fun scavenger hunt and a highly successful rendition of Handel’s “Chorus from Judas Maccabaeus,” I said, “I have an idea. Let’s bounce the rhythm.”

I should add that one of our strategies for making practice work is a lot of cuddles between pieces. She is often on my lap. I don’t let her actually play her pieces on my lap because I want her to learn good posture, but I do let her do her reading from my lap. So I counted the notes out and bounced her up and down in time to the rhythm: “short short short, lo-o-ong short, short short short, lo-o-ong short…”

“OH!” she shouted jumping off my lap and grabbing her violin. “I get it!” and she played the rhythm perfectly.

The next day she forgot the new rhythm and was back on the floor wailing. So I tried a trick Emily has taught us, which is to let the kids show the grown-up where the error is. It went like this:

Me: (picking up claves) I am going to just tap out this rhythm for you.
Lila: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (hands over ears)
Me: No, wait! I really need help with this! Can you come sit on my lap and tell me what I am doing wrong? (Lila reluctantly gets off the floor and climbs into my lap. I play the rhythm with just quarter notes and no half notes to the end of the measure.) How was that?
Lila: (grabs claves) No, Mama, like this.

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