Pakratim Paramam
Yesterday afternoon I recorded this song. My throat didn't cooperate 100%, but it's better than nothing, and it's for Mother God--I think she doesn't mind. I also slow down weirdly at times, but yeah, I think it's ok.
I had two real problems, as a musician. I mean a real musician--this is just singing for God informally.
As a real musician, uh, I don't have a metronome inside me. I speed up and slow down rather randomly. It's usually not a problem if I'm playing with a group, because they can keep me on track. But it's like something's missing inside me. Feels odd. Time stretches out and scrunches up, for me. It's like I'm measuring reality in something besides time. Feelings, maybe.
Then the other thing is I would get anxious at the high notes, playing bassoon, and go sharp. Yeah, I always went sharp. That was me. I would think the notes wouldn't come out and clamp down harder with my mouth. My teacher would let me use his longer bocal sometimes, bringing me a little flatter, like I could switch out bocals for a high part. But it was hopeless. That was an anxiety thing. I needed a special music therapist.
I guess I could be rough on reeds also. Those bassoon reeds are expensive too. And getting one nice and usable. Different reeds for different purposes. Oh, this one is a bit cracked, now--damn it. That was my best one. Cycling through four different reeds or so, that are slightly different in the mouth. I still have some.
Now I can't play at all because I can't feel the pinky on my right hand. That means three or four low notes I simply cannot play. Pinched nerve is no joke. One star--do not recommend. Would not order again.
Thinking about my teacher now, and his wife. I just googled him, and he appears to be still alive. Nice. He was totally appropriate with me. That's golden.
1. appropriate teacher
2. new friends, new possibilities
3. learning, changing, growing
4. freedom
5. when I used to eat paper when I was a kid, it never had a negative health consequence (thanking God and my own body, that I never blocked my intestine)
Love to all. May may bring you may flowers and no Mayflowers, because pilgrims are bad news and who thinks buckles belong on hats anyway.
I had two real problems, as a musician. I mean a real musician--this is just singing for God informally.
As a real musician, uh, I don't have a metronome inside me. I speed up and slow down rather randomly. It's usually not a problem if I'm playing with a group, because they can keep me on track. But it's like something's missing inside me. Feels odd. Time stretches out and scrunches up, for me. It's like I'm measuring reality in something besides time. Feelings, maybe.
Then the other thing is I would get anxious at the high notes, playing bassoon, and go sharp. Yeah, I always went sharp. That was me. I would think the notes wouldn't come out and clamp down harder with my mouth. My teacher would let me use his longer bocal sometimes, bringing me a little flatter, like I could switch out bocals for a high part. But it was hopeless. That was an anxiety thing. I needed a special music therapist.
I guess I could be rough on reeds also. Those bassoon reeds are expensive too. And getting one nice and usable. Different reeds for different purposes. Oh, this one is a bit cracked, now--damn it. That was my best one. Cycling through four different reeds or so, that are slightly different in the mouth. I still have some.
Now I can't play at all because I can't feel the pinky on my right hand. That means three or four low notes I simply cannot play. Pinched nerve is no joke. One star--do not recommend. Would not order again.
Thinking about my teacher now, and his wife. I just googled him, and he appears to be still alive. Nice. He was totally appropriate with me. That's golden.
1. appropriate teacher
2. new friends, new possibilities
3. learning, changing, growing
4. freedom
5. when I used to eat paper when I was a kid, it never had a negative health consequence (thanking God and my own body, that I never blocked my intestine)
Love to all. May may bring you may flowers and no Mayflowers, because pilgrims are bad news and who thinks buckles belong on hats anyway.
posted by Laura-Marie @ 3:41 AM
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