The Bach Season

Week of June 13

2010-06-16T19:55:00.000-07:00

C#-minor scale
Kreutzer Number 24
Ciaccona

My approach to Ciaccona week began with the "afraid to play it, so just won't practice at all" strategy. Now that the week is half over, I've decided to just enjoy playing the Ciaccona and being able to scratch out the notes, even if they aren't all played the same tempo and without stopping and scratching my head and being annoyed that my old teacher changed the bowings and fingerings, which just makes things more ambiguous.

I was amazed when I learned that there wasn't anything magical about playing the notes to an amazing piece of music, like the Ciaccona or the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto. You don't have to be a perfect violinist to play those pieces and get a kick out of hearing the music you love coming out of your violin. It's a long stretch from playing them well, but there's something cool about it. I think it's better to experience them as an amateur than to say, "Oh, I can't play that," and never try. One can also argue that it's sacrilegious to play such special pieces badly or without putting in enough sweat. To each his own.

Week of May 30 2010

2010-06-04T08:18:00.000-07:00

G-sharp Minor Scale
Kreutzer No. 22
D-minor partita: Sarabande

The Sarabande could be played on an accordion. The chords sound like they are breathing in and out. In the first measure, I can imagine the accordion pressing in one beat one and pulling out on beats two and three, or vice versa. Also, "wake up" quality of rolling of the bow from the G and D strings to the A and E strings on the first chord reminds me of the way accordions get suddenly loud when the player moves the bellows quickly.

The movement also sounds like something that would be played in a church, particularly at the end of the first section. The violinist holds out and open E and plays underneath it, ending on the five chord. It sounds like the happily ever after with God end of an organ piece.

I love Bach!

2010-05-23T20:22:00.000-07:00

This is a corny post if I ever write one. I love playing the Bach Double along with my recording. The iPod makes it even easier to do.

I love how the cellos have an important part in the fugues of the Bach Double. I love that, listening to it, I pay just as much attention to the cellos in the orchestra as I do to the solo violins. That's probably comforting to a solo violinist!

I did some sit-ups to Bach just now. It floored me, but I was already on the floor. Hahahah.

Playing the violin is good for me. But so are many different things. There are so many things I think it would be good to do regularly. I've always had trouble deciding what to do. But I really could play violin regularly if I just picked it up. Once I start, it's great! I think back on days I've spent in a bad mood and imagine that violin would have helped. Or ballet class...Or...

Week of 05/23/10

2010-05-22T18:13:00.000-07:00

B-major scale
Kreutzer 21
Bach D-minor Partita: Corrente

Why 64 Variations?

2010-04-02T06:53:00.000-07:00

What’s So Significant About 64 Variations?

The Ciaccona has 64 variations, and I immediately called that evidence of Bach’s larger, impressive structure for the Ciaccona. What’s so important about the number 64?

Musical phrases usually come in groups of four or eight measures, and they certainly did so in 1720’s German music. The Ciaccona is based on both threes and fours. Each measure of the Ciaccona has three beats, and each has four measures. That’s common for pieces in three (think of your favorite waltz). And though each measure has three beats, each quarter-note beat is evenly divided into eighth notes, sixteenth notes, and thirty-second notes, in all but two variations – not divided into triplets, as it could be.

The fact that beats are evenly divided into halves, quarters, eighths, sixteenths, and thirty-seconds means that those powers of two are particularly relevant numbers. They are more relevant than just any multiple of two, such as 60, or even just any multiple of 16, like 96.

Bach could have just aspired to write a large number of variations and stopped anywhere after fifty. 51. 52. 60. Why 64 variations? To start, it’s an even number. There’s nothing significant about the number of variations being even. Of course, there’s a fifty-percent chance of that. But there is something significant about the number of variations being 64. Having the number of variations be a power of two, in this case, two to the sixth power, would allow the entire piece to be evenly subdivided six times (32, 16, 8, 4, 2, 1). That’s not true for other numbers. Take the number 60. 60 is a multiple of 4. Do I think that would be amazing, too? 60 variations could only be evenly divided twice (30, 15). Sets of 15 variations, or musical units, would be unusual for traditional, European music, because this piece is based on threes and fours, not fives.

Though having 64 variations would allow the piece to be neatly subdivided multiple times, it isn’t. The piece has three sections, each one shorter than the previous, and that don’t have tidy numbers of variations. The first section, in D-minor, is 33 variations long. It’s followed by an 19-variation major section, then by a 12-variation minor section.

Analyzing the larger structure of the Ciaccona is a large task that others have tried to tackle. I think that they mostly end up speculating about why Bach organized it the way he did. Here’s my speculation.

The opening theme recurs more and more frequently throughout the Ciaccona. I may be influenced by Arnold Steinhardt (whose book, Violin Dreams, I just finished) when I say that the opening theme reminds me of the call of death, the call for the end of the partita. The Ciaccona begins by saying, “It’s time to end the partita,” then, its whole life flashes before its eyes, but in the end, the Ciaccona theme keeps coming back more and more frequently until the end of the movement. It’s like in stories where death is a shrouded figure you sometimes see and worry about, then say, “Oh, it’s nothing.” Then the figure comes back. In the middle section, in D major, you think that you’ve escaped the end of the Ciaccona and that it’s going to keep going forever. Then the opening theme comes back, and the last section is the shortest of them all. I think it’s the way childhood seems to last forever, but then life speeds up during middle age, and before you know it, it’s gone.

Natural Order in the Bach Ciaccona

2010-04-02T04:56:00.000-07:00

The Ciaccona from Bach’s D-minor Partita For Solo Violin comprises 64 variations on a four-measure theme. Every variation follows or references one underlying bass line and one rhythmic pattern. To listen to the piece, which lasts about 15 minutes, one might not realize that the number of variations is so round. In places, it feels like the Ciaccona will keep going forever. When the Ciaccona does end (always a letdown!), it sounds as though Bach happened on a conclusion and stopped. But he didn’t stop there by chance. He stopped at the end of the 64th variation on his theme. A strict structure can underlie music that sounds creative and spontaneous.

It’s a surprise to learn that the Ciaconna has exactly 64 variations on a theme. The music feels so free and even rambling in some places, particularly where there are many 32nd notes. There are so many surprises, like the key changes, the transitions to new sections, and the introduction of new themes, which seem spontaneous, rather than conforming. The parts flow together so perfectly that it’s hard to believe that Bach wrote them to fit a mold. The Ciaccona sounds like the model from which a mold might be cast.

Perhaps it is wrong to assume that what is natural and flowing is unstructured. That may be a more modern outlook on things. Form and flow aren’t necessarily opposed. Could the structure help the piece flow?

In the past, people thought that what was natural was orderly. In Elizabethan England, people believed in the Great Chain of Being, in which God ruled men who ruled animals. People who practice Islam have great structure to their lives, praying five times per day. These are two examples that come to mind, but there are many other examples of the way humans lead structured lives.

Whether or not we humans choose to discipline ourselves, nature imposes order on our lives. Our days, weeks, months, and years are precisely patterned. Every day has 24 hours, the time it takes the earth to rotate once around its axis. Every year has 365 and 1/4 days, the time it takes the earth to orbit the sun. Our months correspond roughly to orbit of the moon around the earth. The lengths of our days and nights and the characters of our seasons depend on the movement of the sun and the earth.

Perhaps it’s not so surprising that Bach built his Ciaccona on a large and regular framework. The world is filled with structures, hierarchies, and repeating themes, from the planets in the universe, to our seasons, to our sunrises and sunsets, to our generations. Life is a series of variations on a 24-hour theme, each featuring the same sunrise, sunset, and motions of the planets and stars. Unlike Bach, we can’t plan ahead how many variations we are going to write.

Ringing

2010-03-27T07:04:00.000-07:00

Listening to Hilary Hahn play the Allemande to the D-minor partita, I'm hearing the way her violin rings more than I ever did before. In an earlier post, I talked about listening for the ringing of my own violin as I played the Allemande. This ringing is amazing. It's like her notes were bell chimes. The ringing of one note does linger in the air as she plays the next. The ringing of the bass notes is like the bass part that Bach didn't include in the "Six Solos For Violin without Bass Accompaniment," as he originally titled them. Sometimes, when I tune into the ringing, I imagine another note that isn't in the music that seems to follow in the bass line.

Arnold Steinhardt, a concert violinist and chamber musician, says he has been pursuing the elusive Ciaccona his whole life. I can imagine why. There's always more to hear in Bach.

Arnold Steinhardt plays the Ciaccona in 2006

2010-03-27T06:19:00.000-07:00

Open Source Interview about Bach's Ciaccona with Arnold Steinhardt

2010-03-26T20:46:00.000-07:00

This is a radio program about the wonderful Ciaccona/Chaconne.

Allemande

2010-03-25T07:39:00.000-07:00

I can't find my Bach music, so I can't check to see how my edition spells Allemande. I can, however, play the movement I'm working on, because it's committed to my memory.

I've been imagining how the movement would sound on an organ. There are many rising arpeggios where I can imagine the notes building onto each other and the volume rising the way they would if an organist held each note down instead of releasing it to play the next note, the way you have to on a violin.

I'm also trying to listen for the way the ringing of one note mixes with the sound of the next. For example, if I play a note on one string, then play a note on another string, the first string continues to vibrate from that first note while I play the second. What does that sound like? The vibrations aren't as loud as those of an organ, but they exist. Whether I leave my fingers in place on the first string or take them off probably makes some minuscule difference.

The beginning of the Allemande is similar to the beginning of Ciaccona, the D-minor partita's epic movement. I wonder if Bach wrote the Allemanda first, or started with the Ciaccona. The Ciaccona is so important. It could be based on all of the previous movements, but because it's so fantastic, I suspect that Bach had it in mind from the beginning. Bach probably planned the Ciaccona before he started writing the Allemande, the way J.K. Rowling planned the end of the Harry Potter series before she finished the first Harry Potter book.

I like this recording, after the Star Wars introduction. This sounds like not just any violin. Maybe a Baroque violin.

Week of 3/21/10

2010-03-21T19:10:00.000-07:00

B-flat major scale
Kreutzer 20
D-minor Partita, Allemanda

I think I'm on Kreutzer 20. I sporadically practiced for a while there, and I ended up on Kreutzer 20. Also, I played the last movement of the A-minor Sonata, too.

Fresh music

2010-02-05T19:29:00.000-08:00

I think playing that piece versus listening to it on a CD is like eating homemade beef stew versus canned stuff. It's better when you make the music yourself. That's not because the playing is better, but because the sound is better! The sound of ringing notes can't get any better than what comes out of your own violin.

Pre-made meals might be good when they're fresh, but when they have to sit out for hours, or they have preservatives added, they lose something. Music preserved on a CD loses something, too. I try to make it fresh.

My violin itself has been really in-tune lately, which helps. Not just "uh, maybe it's in-tune now," but, "oh yeah, those are loud harmonics; it's just right."

I've been playing the Préludio from the E-major partita for fun. I've been playing it, off and on, since seventh grade, and I knew it well enough make a tape of it in twelfth grade, so I know the notes pretty well. It's familiar, and I always enjoy practicing it. It's also hard enough that there's always more to practice!

I've also been playing the Méditation from the opera Thais, by Massenet, a piece I first heard as music for pliés in ballet class. It's so pretty.

I'm not saying that my playing is as good as what's on the CD.

First Notes

2010-01-26T20:04:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how starting something I've been putting off can cheer me up so much. Just tuning my violin made me happy today. I just played for a few minutes, but it felt good. It reminds me of how I sometimes dread going to work, but once I get there and start "ringing" (what cashiers do), I feel fine. The routine of ringing can even be comforting. By the time I've told twenty customers I'm doing very well, thanks, I'd better be feeling fine! It's the same walking out the door to do an errand I've been avoiding, or getting in the shower. All these things I avoid are okay once I begin them.

Beginnings, débuts, baptisms, tonics.
Awakenings, realizations, openings.
Openings of eyes, stores, doors.
Dreams give way to reality.
Babies are bathed and baptized, agnostic adults simply shower.
Sunrises, springs, seeds.
Coffee. A walk outside. Warming up.
Tightening the bow. Tuning. The A. Schradieck number 1.

Every day is the oldest you've ever been and the youngest you'll ever be.
You'll always look younger on your driver's license.

Week of December 6

2009-12-11T17:32:00.000-08:00

E-flat minor scale
Kreutzer 16
Bach A-minor Sonata: Andante

Another nonsensical scale.

Trills!

Played the first measure of this movement and learned that there's a lot more to music than meets the ear.

Week of November 29

2009-12-01T05:38:00.000-08:00

G-flat Major Scale
Kreutzer 14
Fuga from A-minor Sonata

I have never played a piece in G-flat, and there's a good reason for that: it's a bewildering key. I can only think about the notes, like G-flat, C-flat, by converting them to familiar ones like F sharp and B natural. It's very high on the E-string, because the three octaves begin not with open G but G-flat nearly an octave higher. This is the highest 3-octave scale Flesch will ask of me.

The open strings provide little consolation on this scale. In many cases, when you get to the top of a scale, you can just play an open A and hear if you're in tune or if you've wandered into another key on your way up the E string. For G-flat, you have two options: play an A and think "am I a major sixth plus 2 octaves above the A?" (an interval that isn't particularly easy to hear); go to the D string and listen for a major third plus 3 octaves.

A fiddler would just tune the whole violin down a half step.

Revisiting an old cassette through an old Walkman

2009-11-27T19:42:00.000-08:00

I have been practicing this week. I think I am going to move on to the second movement of the A-minor Sonata this Sunday. I'm starting to feel familiar with the first movement, which is all I'm asking of myself for the moment.

I've been revisiting some old musical favorites of mine this week. How music affects my mood! On a whim Wednesday night, I listened to an old mix tape using my Walkman, now many years old. Thursday morning (Thanksgiving), I woke up in a great mood and with show tunes in my head.

That morning, on a roll, I put on another old cassette tape - Claude Bolling's "Suite For Violin and Jazz Piano." It's a tape my mom made for herself, maybe of a record? I think she used to listen to the tapes in the lab. At some point, I had coopted the tape with the Tchaikovsky violin and piano concertos, the Vivaldi violin concertos, and this one. The Bolling is the only tape I actually took with me to Somerville.

My mom's recording features Bolling on piano and Pinchas Zuckerman on violin. They're good. Listen to one movement of the Bolling here.

I love these cassette tapes. They've been my favorite music since before my age became two digists, and they still are. Music runs deep.

Now for a bit of Phantom of the Opera before bed. Some may not like it because it's over-popular. Well, it's popular for a good reason. It's a classic.

Try again this week

2009-11-20T19:19:00.001-08:00

This week was as busy as the previous week. But this week, I should have some time to practice. I'm not giving up.

Week of November 15: Repeat last week

2009-11-14T19:21:00.000-08:00

I only had one day of practicing last week, so I'm going to play the same music this week. I started the second Bach sonata last week, and since the first movement introduces the sonata, it's particularly important that I at least look at the music, count it, make an attempt to learn the notes and get something musical out of playing it. I can't just go on to the second movement. If I miss the introduction to the other movements, I won't get as much from them.

That's the plan.

Weeek of November 8

2009-11-08T19:38:00.000-08:00

B-Flat Minor Scale
Kreutzer No. 13
Sonata 2 in A Major: Grave

This movement will be difficult...I can't believe this Sonata only has four movements. I became accustomed to playing the second partita after two months. I think this Sonata will feel short.

Week of November 1

2009-11-06T18:49:00.000-08:00

D-flat major scale
Kreutzer No. 12
Last Double of the B-minor Partita

I have been practicing this week, just not writing. A newspaper article I am working on has taken all my writing time these last two weeks.

This Kreutzer exercise has lots of difficult intonation. Every phrase has a different fourth-finger stretch high up on the E string that has to be pounded into muscle memory. Even the videos of virtuosic youngsters practicing this exercise don't make it sound great.

I am enjoying the Bach. I'm sorry that tomorrow will be my last day to practice the B-Minor Partita. It's exciting, though, to have played 2 of the Spartitas.

Sonata No. 2, which I'll start on Sunday, looks quite difficult, and I haven't played it at all, whereas I've played movements of both the E-Major and D-Minor Partitas.

Schradieck No. 1

2009-10-27T19:53:00.000-07:00

This is the exercise I always play after scales. I don't go that fast! My old violin teacher, Arnold, really liked Schradieck No. 1, so I like it, too.

Bourrée

2009-10-27T19:50:00.000-07:00

Why must the first few measures of pieces be so difficult? This is the case both with my Kreutzer étude and my Bach movement for this week. The first four measures of the first section are full of chords. When playing them, I think of Irene Rissi (sp?) telling me to smile with my bow. Smiling with the bow means you start at the frog, move your hand down as you hit the chord, then lift your hand up again as you lift the bow off the strings and bring it back to the frog. It makes for a nice clean release from the string so that the chord rings well.

After those first few measures, the rest of the section isn't very hard. The chords come naturally.

The second section is more difficult than the first. It's also much longer.

At about 1:50 into the recording, there is a section that isn't predicted by anything earlier in the movement. Ouf of the blue come these eighth-note melodies and chords broken into single notes (1:50). Then, from 1:59 to 2:06, there's a new melody with a great rhythm. Bach eventually brings the music back to the opening chords to finish the movement. The end of this movement almost seems like a cadenza that ends when the orchestra comes back in playing a familiar theme. Like a cadenza, this section feels improvisatory.

Bach is often surprising. I'm sure I mentioned earlier how disappointed I was when I learned that there were some rules composers followed when writing music; therefore, it wasn't as magical as I had once thought. Bach still has his fair share of magic. What rule could tell you to throw a major section into the Ciaccona where he did, for example? It's like the sun coming out.

I hate to say it, but I think that changing from minor to major like that always sounds like the sun coming out. A composer could just say, "Ok, time for a little sun," and the magic would be gone. Tchaikovsky does the same thing in his violin concerto at the end of the stormy first movement cadenza where a trill changes from minor to major and then the flute comes in playing a happy theme to accompany the formerly lonely violin.

Kreutzer No. 11

Week of October 25, 2009

2009-10-26T14:12:00.000-07:00

F Minor Scale
Kreutzer No. 11
Bach B-Minor Partita: Bourrée

This is a great week for the violin. My instrument is in tune. The Kreutzer exercise is my favorite, and the Bach is beautiful and full of chords, which are starting to feel familiar to me.

As for things to work on: That three-octave scale puts the fingers on the E string very close to the bow! It's hard to sound beautiful up there.

I'm trying to relax my fingering hand more. I tried playing Schradieck No. 1 with my fourth finger down, either on the A string or on the D string, in order to practice keeping it still while the other fingers are playing... I'm also trying to get more comfortable playing near the frog by playing Kreutzer No. 2 with the bowing reversed: up bows going to the frog on every downbeat.

I still remember the big shifts from the last time I played the Kreutzer exercise. The very first measure still gives me a bit of trouble, though. It will take practice to play the exercise fast.

Unfortunately, I haven't felt very well today. I thought my cold was better, but it's not.

Dependable Bach, good old Bach

2009-10-23T09:20:00.000-07:00

I have a cold, and I've been moaning about for the last few days. There have been times when I really haven't felt like doing anything. This morning was one of those times.

I took some medicine - an herbal supplement with many times the daily recommended dose of zinc and vitamin C, among other things - and decided to just try carrying on as usual. I did my dishes and decided to practice. Maybe my neurons would be too busy firing about music to remind my brain that I still had a cold. Either the medicine or the practicing worked. I feel better. Not great, but better.

I figure that if I can go to work with a cold, I should be able to do things that are more important and more fun, like playing music. Yesterday at work, I tried to think of all the "blessings" I had that didn't depend on whether or not I had a cold. Parents, music, nice Fall weather. Thinking about music in that context also made me want to practice.

I've warmed up to this week's Bach movement. It's a variation on the preceding movement. It's all in triplets. It's very dainty and graceful.

There's one great part where you roll the bow from the E string to the G string, then back up again, hitting the open A, D, G, then D again. It reminds me of the famous opening line of the Bach Cello Suite. You can growl and pretend to be a cellist on that open G.

Grumiaux plays all the notes detached! My music has many slurs. Well, he doesn't do the "growl" the way I do, but he's a great musician. I'll find another video if I can.

Week of 10/18/09

2009-10-18T19:53:00.000-07:00

A-flat Major Scale
Kreutzer No.10
Another Double from the B-minor Partita

I'm not particularly thrilled about any of what I'm playing this week. I've been sort of blue the last few days, so maybe it is seeping into my violin playing. Who needs all those flats in the scale, anyway? Kreutzer No. 9 is something I've practiced many different times in my violin studies, and those same shifts are still hard. The Double is the kind of piece that requires phrasing and dynamics to be interesting. Some Bach is so gorgeous that the notes themselves are enough to give a person goosebumps. This movement will take more than notes.

The most I can say about this week is that it's the week before next week, when I'll be playing one of my favorite études, Kreutzer No. 11. Kreutzer No. 11 is a pretty song full of smooth shifting. It's the first Kreutzer étude I played, in seventh grade, and I've studied it many times since then. Unlike Kreutzer No. 10, it's an étude I love to play! I'm afraid to play it badly next week, because I know that I've played it very well in the past. On the upside, I know that I can play it well if I practice enough.

I practiced the violin this evening instead of persisting in the newspaper article I was trying to write. I feel better now that I've practiced. That's probably a sign that I did the right thing. Tomorrow, I'll do the write thing:) Hopefully, it will also be satisfying.

Happy noodling, happy noodle

2009-10-14T19:35:00.000-07:00

Oh, I practiced wiggling my fingers fast tonight, both on Schradieck No. 1 and Kreutzer No. 9. I stared at my fingers and thought, "There's nothing unusual about wiggling my fingers fast. La de da." I tried to pretend I was Itzhak Perlman and had really fat, relaxed fingers and all the time in the world to hit my note in style. It helped me to relax.

I even managed to relax my bow arm on Kreutzer No. 9 and make it sound really fluid. I was pleased. I played sixteenth notes about about four notes per tick of 108 on the metronome. "Moderato," not even Allegro. Sometimes playing slowly is too boring for the brain. I liked having to think quickly as I played.

I am enjoying the Bach. I could (and did) play the first phrase over and over. It's very resonant and satisfying. All those fourths sound so beautiful and interesting, too.

I rewarded my practicing with a mini apple pie and vanilla ice cream. My friend and I made these pies together on Monday, and they are perfect. The crust is flaky and delicious and was easy to work with, too.

Even though my practicing wasn't perfect, and I know eating pie could make me gain some weight, and I know my writing is lazy, I'm just so happy and satisfied. Aah... Happy noodle.

Week of October 11, 2009

2009-10-11T20:41:00.000-07:00

C-minor Scale
Kreutzer No. 9
Bach B-minor Partita: Sarabande

It's the time of year when I stand with my hands over the kettle as I wait for the water to boil for tea. Brrr! It's also the time of year when my Reynaud's Syndrome kicks in. That means that if my fingers get too cold, one or of a few of them may turn white and go numb for a little while. Don't worry: my fingers won't lose circulation long enough to die. They might, however, be numb while I'm trying to practice a scale in a cold room, as was the case with the fingers of my bowing hand today. Warming up has new meaning in the wintertime.

This week's Kreutzer étude is certainly not something for a person with numb fingers. It's all slurred sixteenth notes, it's very repetitive, and it feels good to play. By the time I got to Bach today, I felt thoroughly warm, as if my fingers had gone for a jog.

I thought about skipping the warm up today and going straight to Bach, but that proved impossible. Unlike the Presto last week, the Sarabande is not just a series of sixteenth notes that can be slowed down and substituted for scales. The Sarabande is full of slow and stately chords, which came much more easily after a warm up.

This is the movement I've had stuck in my head recently, I was glad to discover today when I turned the page in my volume of Bach.

I practiced from 10 to 11 tonight. Rather than use my housemates' sleep as an excuse to skip practicing, I said, "Oh, let them complain. Chances are, they're still awake!" It's the kind of irreverent, impassioned thing Paul Farmer (of my Tracy Kidder book, Mountains Beyond Mountains) would do.
Thus begins the second month of the B-minor Partita.

Excuses, excuses

2009-10-09T20:54:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think that what I did INSTEAD of practicing Bach might be more interesting to narrate than the practicing itself. Last night, for instance, I heard the author Tracy Kidder read from his newest book at my local bookstore. I hadn't read any Kidder before yesterday, but I planned to go to the reading because I knew my parents liked Kidder's work. I bought a copy of Mountains Beyond Mountains, which is about Dr. Paul Farmer, a young man who thinks he can do the impossible and goes to Haiti, founds a hospital, and stops at nothing to improve the lives of the people there. It's an inspiring story, and Kidder makes it an interesting one, too. A neat tidbit: Farmer's close friend, Ophelia Dahl, is now the head of Partners In Health, and she spoke at the reading last night. I was one generation away from Roald Dahl! And I saw one of the main characters in the wonderful book I'm reading.

I also played some folk music with my housemate and his girlfriend. It was fun. I hadn't played many of the tunes before, so I learned them by ear. I can now pick out not just the relative pitches that make up the song but also start on the right note the first time. I'm getting toward perfect pitch. I know that my ear is unusually good, so it's fun to show it off and pretend to be modest. Of course, though, it's hard not to be self-conscious and show off when you pick up a tune just like that and people are impressed.

As for Bach: I've practiced twice so far this week. I haven't gotten very deeply into the Presto Double of the B-minor Partita. I've worked on the notes of the first half pretty carefully. That's it. I am just going to keep going, one movement per week. Life keeps going, and my practicing will, too. If I ever did go a week without playing, I would not skip a movement. But to stop for a week would risk abandoning the project, so I will try to practice every week.

Sometimes, students go to violin lessons without practicing. It turns out fine. It's not like you can't play - you just can't play any better than you could the week before. And maybe, by chance, you will play better after the week's break. Say you performed at the low end of your abilities after practicing, then went a week without practicing, and performed again, this time at the high end of your abilities. It would appear that you'd improved, even if your average ability hadn't changed. It's important to keep going to lessons every week, practice or not, just so that you don't give up. For the same reason, I need to change movements every week so that I don't give up.

Week of October 4, 2009

2009-10-04T19:00:00.000-07:00

E-flat Major Scale
Kreutzer No. 8 (E MAJOR)
B-minor Partita: Double; Presto (B-minor)

I'm playing in three different keys this week, each one a half-step higher than the last. From the Bach, we have B-minor, equivalent to D major. The scale is E-flat minor, and the étude is E major.

I particularly like the étude I'm playing this week. It's very melodic.

The most significant thing about this week's music is that it goes one movement beyond the Bach I played the last time I attempted to play all the Sonatas and Partitas.

I'll write again when I have something to say.

Week of September 27, 2009

2009-09-30T08:48:00.000-07:00

G-minor Scale
Kreutzer No. 7
B-minor Partita: Corrente

I have been reading Julie Powell's book, Julie and Julia, in which she chronicles her year of cooking and blogging about all the recipes in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. The book is not as good as the movie, unfortunately, nor is it as good as the blog itself. It must be hard to turn a blog into a book. The ideas were fresh in the blog, and they probably just aren't as good the second time around.

Julie Powell seems like a more likeable person in the movie. In the book, she is often quite caustic, and that turns me off. I'm not giving up on her yet, though.

Her cooking/blogging endeavor inspired this blog. I'm not spending nearly as much time on the Bach Season as Julie Powell did on the Julie/Julia Project. But I'm not giving up. If I hadn't practiced today, I might have given up. But I did practice.

One thing I've learned about Julie Powell from reading her book is that she went to New York hoping to become not a writer, as the movie implies, but an actress. The movie and the back cover of the book imply that Julie Powell is living happily ever after as a writer. But will she? What will she write next? Will it be as popular as her first book?

I am an aspiring writer, at the moment, but I also aspire to be well-rounded and do lots of different things that I love. I say that I want to play the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto and the Ciaccona from the Bach D-minor Partita in my lifetime. Those are two of the hardest pieces in the violin repertoire. So I know I have to practice. Even for someone who does practice, those are lofty goals. For someone who took years away from the violin, they border on delusional! So I am writing this blog in order to get back to practicing and to try to accomplish something with my violin playing.

Plus, if I have children, my practice time will all but disappear. Though life is long, it's not as full of free time as I might imagine it to be. I think I should get in my practicing while I can.

Scales

2009-09-26T21:21:00.000-07:00

The last few days, I have been skipping scales and exercises. Instead, I've been playing the notes to the first Double using the same sorts of rhythms and bowings I would use for a scale. It allows me to warm up and work on intonation in the Bach at the same time. I practice each line with a metronome the way would practice a scale: first one note per bow, then two, then three, then four... It has improved my Bach.

On the other hand, I heard a beautiful concert tonight featuring the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto. It's the first time I've seen that concerto performed live. Watching the soloist's good technique reminded me that scales do come in handy in repertoire. Scales may seem just in the way of me playing Bach in my limited practice time, but au contraire, they are central to all music! One can't wait/"doesn't have to" wait till one is learning the Tchaikovsky to start practicing the scales and arpeggios in that concerto...

I would like to learn that concerto in my lifetime. I'm hoping for a long life in which to progress to the Tchaikovsky, but I'm practicing now, rather than later, since the only time you can really count on is the present. Who knows how many years I'll have to achieve my goal?

Week of September 20, 2009

2009-09-21T11:08:00.000-07:00

This week, I am visiting my parents in Kentucky. I brought my Kreutzer and Bach and metronome but decided to play my dad's violin, rather than bring my own, and to leave the scale book in Somerville.

Any scale I can remember (the fingerings for, that is - I think I can remember the order of notes!)
Kreutzer Number 6
Bach B-Minor Partita: First Double

Last week, I practiced about twice, and the movement I was trying to learn was quite difficult. It's filled with chords that are hard to set up. In some cases, you have to move a finger from one string to another to go to a chord from its preceding note, that or use the free fingers in an unnatural way. If I had my druthers, I'd take about 10 seconds' pause before every chord. Unfortunately, when a chord is supposed to be climactic, the pause ruins the effect.

This week, I'm practicing the Double and reviewing the Allemanda. I am particularly determined to get somewhere with my practicng this week because my parents, who haven't heard me play violin in a long time, are listening to me practice. I don't want them to think I've "lost it."

Week of September 13, 2009: Starting off in tune

2009-09-13T19:47:00.000-07:00

B-flat Major Scale

Kreutzer Number 5

Bach Partita Number 1 in B-minor: Allemanda

My violin was particularly in tune today. That is, I did a good job tuning it before I started playing. That, in turn, improved my intonation.

I try not to obsess over tuning my violin because sometimes, when my intonation is bad, I try to blame it on my violin being out of tune and waste a lot of time fiddling with the tuning.

Today I really got my violin in tune, and it made such a difference. My A string had been a little sharp before. I have learned to listen for the beats you hear when you play the out-of-tune A string against the metronome's A440 and can adjust the tuning until the beats slow and go away. I think I also know what harmonics I'm listening for when I tune the other strings. I certainly got it right today, anyway. As I played, I kept thinking I heard my cell phone ringing. That means my notes really were ringing!

Now that I've bragged about my in-tune playing, I'll be out of tune tomorrow...

Farewell Sonata Number 1

2009-09-12T20:07:00.000-07:00

I am saying goodbye to the Sonata Number 1 in G-minor. The final G-minor chord, GDB-flatG, brought me back to the beginning of the sonata. It's a revolution.

Partita Number 1, coming up tomorrow, is also in a minor key: B-minor. It has eight movements, four different dances and four doubles, one per dance. It will be a two-month sonata, in that case. I like the way it makes dissonant chords, such as EF#, sound beautiful (provided they are in tune). More tomorrow...

Rhythm in the Presto

2009-09-11T17:58:00.000-07:00

Bach manages to create interesting rhythm in a movement containing nothing but sixteenth notes, a perpetual motion. I just want to point out one of these here (and practice referring to uploaded photos of my sheet music).

In the excerpt above, in the section section of the Presto, I think it is ambiguous if the music is meant to be counted as two beats of triplets or three beats of sixteenth-note pairs. In favor of two-beat measures, the first and fourth beats of every other measure (beginning with the second measure shown) repeat the same note. For example, measure 2 counted as two triplets is B23B23. But in favor of three-beat measures, the fifth sixteenth note (beat three) is part of a descending scale, which emphasizes it. Counting measure 2 as three pairs of sixteenths highlights a descending scale: 1D34C6.

This scale is marked lightly in pencil in the music above. Starting in the second measure pictured, the scale goes from D to A and moves from one note to the next on the second and fifth sixteenth notes of every other measures.

For example, in measures 2 through 5, the scale is: 1D34C6;123456;1Bflat34A6;123456.

It's interesting that the scale moves on the second sixteenth note. Emphasizing that note doesn't make sense in three-beat measures or in two-beat measures. Emphasizing the fifth sixteenth note, on the other hand, would emphasize beat three in three-beat measures.

There is a second scale moving at the same time, going from the high B-flat in the second measure shown all the way down to a G on the D-string on the downbeat of the last measure shown.

For example, the second and third measures shown have the following scale: Bflat23Bflat56A23456, G23G23F23456.

This scale occurs on the first and fourth sixteenth notes of measures 2, 4, and 6, and the first sixteenth notes of measures 3, 5, and 7. In measure 8, the first and third sixteenth notes continue the scale. The fifth sixteenth note of measure 8 is an F-sharp instead of the predictable A. That note comes, instead, as the sixth sixteenth note. That in itself creates an interesting little accent. Then the downbeat of measure 9, which one might expect to be a G, is a D instead.

Bach just can't be pegged. That's why his music is so much fun to play and study. Trite but true.

Listen to 1:59 to 2:04 (wow, all that writing about 5 seconds of music!) of Grumiaux's recording to hear the section I am referring to.

Presto, Détaché Bowing, and Bernstein

2009-09-09T19:11:00.000-07:00

I have been enjoying playing the Presto. I've been playing it a little faster than I'm comfortable in order to get the feeling of breathless incessant notes.

When I watched Hilary Hahn play this movement, I was amazed at how she kept her bow glued to the string during the passages with sixteenths and no slurs. It just put my wimpy slow practicing and light bow stroke to shame! I realized how nice my playing can sound if I really play out. It's the same bowstroke I use to practice Kreutzer No. 2, ah yes, détaché. (Though Haslop seems to be lifting his bow off the string more than I do.)

I think Bach's rhythms are interesting. At several times during this movement, the rhythm in one measure changes from a "triplet-triplet" feel to a "1+2+3" feel. It's like something out of West-Side story! I'm referring to 0:27 in the Bach. "Triplet triplet 1+2+3+"

See about 0:56 to skip the introduction.

Pat on the bach

2009-09-06T09:34:00.001-07:00

I have , at times, felt sheepish reading this Lester book, because its so deep in music theory. But I went through the Siciliano and identified the chords. I even got the seventh chords. Nice. To my satisfaction, my analysis matches Lester's, at least in the example I'm looking at now, and I CAN understand what he's saying. Pat on the Bach.

A New Week

2009-09-05T22:09:00.000-07:00

This week, I did not practice very much. I did spend quite a bit of time reading Joel Lester's Bach's Works for Solo Violin: Style, Structure, Performance. I realized that I needed to brush up on my music theory in order to understand his comments. On the other hand, I have had some music theory, and it will be good for me to think about the chord structures of the movements as I play them. Besides, the writing isn't too opaque; compared to literary criticism, Lester's book is crystal clear.

I did not finish practicing the Siciliano, or even finish reading about it. I'm sure that will be the case many weeks. That's the nature of my project. The movement for this week is much is easier than the others, since there are hardly any double stops. I may be able to spend some time reviewing the entire Sonata in addition to practicing its last movement.

Week of September 6, 2009

2009-09-05T22:07:00.000-07:00

D-minor scale

Kreutzer Number 4

Sonata No. 1 in G-minor: Presto

I love the way this movement flows from the Siciliano. When I practice the end of the Siciliano, I usually keep going to the first few measures of the Presto. The last note of the Siciliano is a D-B-flat doublestop, an inversion of the movement's tonic chord, B-flat major. Those two notes, D and B-flat also happen to belong to a G-minor chord, which is the tonic chord of the Presto. I think that's why it is satisfying to segue into the Presto. When I continue from one movement to the next, I like to linger a bit on the open G at the bottom of the arpeggio, more than either of the artists I referenced here did. I think the beginning of the Presto is a good end to the Siciliano.

The Adagio doesn't particularly lead to the Fuga, in my opinion, even though the two movements are in the same key, and the Fuga doesn't particularly lead to the Siciliano. For some reason, there's a special connection between the Siciliano and the Presto. Music's mysteries again.

For another version of the Presto, watch Hilary Hahn play it as an encore in this YouTube video. She played Bach as an encore to Mozart's 4th Violin Concerto, the concerto featured in my favorite book, the Mozart Season.

Recordings

2009-09-03T20:20:00.001-07:00

I posted some recordings by Yehudi Menuhin because I wanted to quickly add recordings to my posts. But in fact, I think Menuhin uses too much vibrato and is too mellow, at least during the first movement. A recording by Milstein suited me better, so I replaced Menuhin with Milstein for the G-minor Adagio.

On YouTube, I found a recording of Joseph Joachim playing the G-minor Adagio in 1903. His was the first recording of solo Bach for violin. He didn't record all 6 sonatas and partitas, just two movements. I'm happy and amazed that in 2009 we are still listening to his 1903 recording and that it has found its way to the internet.

What I would like best is to record myself playing Bach and post that. How better to illustrate what I think about Bach than by playing it myself? I could play examples of things I'm discussing even if I don't record entire movements. The Bach Season moves so quickly! By the time I get all the components of this blog together (recordings, photos of the sheet music to illustrate points I'm making), I'll be quite far into the work.

The thing about blogs is that, though previous posts stay in the archives, people generally don't go back to see if you have changed or edited a previous post. People read posts once, soon after they are published. So it would not be a great use of time for me to go back and add lots of annotations and recordings to previous posts. Better to work on making the next posts as thorough and interesting as possible

Solo Bach on Guitar

2009-09-02T21:50:00.000-07:00

I went to Providence for an overnight visit with a friend yesterday, violin in hand and my guide to the sonatas and partitas in my backpack. A guitarist I recognized from the Park Street Station was near the tracks with a nametag, a guitar, CD's, and an open case. I remembered that I'd heard somebody - probably him - playing great solo Bach on guitar. I asked him if he played solo Bach, and he responded by playing the Fuga from the G-minor Sonata. What makes so much of Bach's music nice is the way individual notes resonate together after they're played. That effect certainly comes out on the guitar.

I looked at some YouTube videos of classical guitarist playing Bach, but none matched my memory of the subway musician. Probably no recording, at least not on YouTube, can equal the sound you get standing right next to the guitarist. If you ever see a subway guitarist, ask him to play Bach!

Uh...Wrong Tuning?

2009-09-01T06:53:00.001-07:00

Now I am playing the Siciliano; Andante from the G-minor Sonata.

According to Joel Lester, author of Bach's Works For Solo Violin: Style, Structure, and Performance, some of Bach's violin works with awkward double stops were actually meant to be played in a different tuning of the instrument. I think this may be one of those pieces....

Friday Fuga and the "Phew" Section

2009-08-28T19:26:00.000-07:00

Today I have a different viewpoint on the very passage I wrote about yesterday, on the second page. I still hear the "drumbeats" I mentioned before, but now I also hear the melody of the scale rising and falling. It's interesting that during the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh measures of the chords section, both the up and down beats have a melody. Often in music, the downbeat changes and the upbeat stays constant, as in the beginning of the E-Major Partita. In this section, both beats have a melody. If you played only the upbeats, you would get a scale. When you play both beats, you get a scale going up in thirds (for the fourth and fifth measures) and in sixths (for the sixth and seventh measures).

In the following arpeggio section, the "drumbeats" are strong. Then comes a repeat of the first fugue theme.

In the next section, (page 6, in my edition) there is a section common to several Bach movements I can think of. It's the "phew, we can relax now, everything is going to be okay" section. It's not a recapitulation section, where you know everything is okay. It's the "everything will be okay (kn0ck on wood)" section, followed by more drama, before the actually recap. This movement is in G-minor, but this section begins in the relative major key, B-flat major.

The sad part about this movement is that in the end, you don't find out that everything is okay. It's a recap of a theme in G-minor! You find out that everything is just as melancholy as it was to begin with, and that is somewhat reassuring.

In the other instances of the "phew" section, it's not always in the relative major key. In the Chaconne of the D-minor Partita, the "phew" section is in D-major, while the movement is in D-minor. In the Préludio of the E-major partita, the "phew" section is in... key changes too frequently.

One of the many cool things about the Chaconne, which I will play much later but have already been studying for a while (listening to it and casually playing it) is that the last note is just an open D doubled on the G string, but somehow it FEELS major, whereas the movement began in D-minor. Everything IS okay at the end of the Chaconne, in other words.

Apology: I am going to have to number my measures and cite measure numbers, at least, and at best, I hope to be able to link to audio files illustrating my points. I know it may be impossible to know what I'm referring to the way I am currently writing.

Fuga - inspiration

2009-08-27T10:01:00.000-07:00

Bach really does give me goosebumps as I play. Sometimes, you could criticize my playing as being all about intonation with no feeling at all. That is how I play scales and études. And sometimes I feel that way when practicing a piece of music, as well. But not so with Bach.

On the second page of the Fuga in my edition, there's a doublestop section in which, for four measures, the chords alternate between one with an open D and something on the A string and a chord on the A and E strings. The open D note rings hauntingly during this section. It's like a drum beat. The resonating string also reminds me of the sound you get blowing over the top of a partially filled glass bottle. That's a very good simile. It's like a drum beat in that it does echo and repeat steadily throughout the passage. The quality of the sound is like someone blowing over the top of a glass bottle.

These four measures of chords lead into an arpeggio section where, again, each tiny phrase returns to a base note that sounds like a drum beat. As I played this section today, I really did feel inspired. I did a crescendo that just felt and sounded right. When I intended to practice the doublestops in isolation, I couldn't stop. I just wanted to keep going.

Unfortunately, I'm not always inspired when I play. Playing a song without inspiration can feel shallow. It's not fun to play dynamics because you know you're supposed to and not because you feel like it. The really frustrating part about it is that someone playing with inspiration, like Itzhak Perlman, sounds good no matter what they do. Perlman plays out of rhythm a lot and his dynamics aren't always what the textbook might say to do. He might do a crescendo at the end of a phrase in which the scale is going down that sounds much better than my carefully calculated diminuendo, for example. But he always sounds perfect. Whereas when I intentionally play dynamics and do ritards, I sometimes just sound boring.

I think that the intentional musicality one applies in practicing is just something you do to simulate being inspired. What Perlman is doing is right, for him. If it's not exactly what one might have written in one's music, that's no slight to Perlman; that's because the notes in one's music were inadequate. You can't capture inspiration in your notes.

But there's nothing like the real thing. When you have goosebumps, whatever you're doing is right. Throw your markings to the wind.

One last note: In order to get inspired, you have to play scales and études first. The warm up may not be inspiring at all. It may even be frustrating. But if you let your daily bad mood keep you from picking up your violin in the first place or let your bad scales discourage you, you won't ever get to the point where you're inspired. I know practicing will make me feel good, though I don't want to practice before I start. I have to trick myself into practicing. Oh, inertia.

Music's Mysteries

2009-08-25T12:40:00.000-07:00

This week, I'm playing the second movement of the G-minor Sonata. As I played it today, I marveled at how good it feels to play double stops. Chords are so beautiful. I felt like a mouse pushing a button to give myself an electric shock every time I played a chord in tune. I do believe that one learns to play in tune by conditioning; that once you hear a ringing note, you strive to hit it again and again. Like the mouse pushing the button, I also experience some wonderful nervous sensation when I play the violin. After I practice, I feel more relaxed and calm.

The science of music must be fascinating. Why do people like music the way we do? What makes the laws of music? What determines what sounds in-tune to us and what doesn't? Why do we like certain music that we've loved for centuries? Music is so powerful and so mysterious.

I admit that I know little about Eastern music and musical tastes. They may be very different. Eastern music may even have different scales and definitions of "in-tune," though I don't know that. Humans of different races and who live in different parts of the world are genetically the same, overall. If our musical tastes differ, it's due to something cultural, not biological.

It would be interesting to find out if people introduced from the crib to what I would call out-of-tune music learned to like it and crave it. Do humans have a pre-determined taste for a certain kind of music, or is that taste learned?

I am not sure I want to know the science of how music works to move us. It might be disappointing. I remember being very disappointed when I found at that songs all followed a basic structure of some kind. That, for example, songs in a particular key had to begin and end on a particular chord. It disappointed me, because it meant that the composer hadn't chosen his first or last notes after all. They were prescribed when he or she chose the key for the piece. It took some of the magic out of music. I might feel like a Creationist feels when they learn about evolution. Suddenly something that seemed wonderful and miraculous explained by chance? On the other hand, just as I think evolution is wonderful, not being religious, perhaps I could convince myself to appreciate the science of music, too.

Week of August 23, 2009

2009-08-23T20:46:00.000-07:00

A-minor scale

Kreutzer 2

G-minor Sonata: Fuga; Allegro

To begin the second week of the Bach Season, I ordered a book by Joel Lester about the Bach Sonatas and Partitas. I also checked out/ordered various books from the library. Hopefully I'll be able to research each movement as I learn it. Ideally, the Bach Season is more than just a year of steady practicing. It will be a year in which I not only play music but also think and write about it. So why not read and research it, too?

Memorized?

2009-08-20T19:16:00.000-07:00

I have a good memory for music. I prefer to practice from memory, so once I've memorized something, I stop using the music. Occasionally, I memorize a mistake.

Could I memorize all the Bach as I learn it? I think that I probably could manage the memorization side of it for shorter movements, but I doubt that my playing could keep up with my memory. It's easier to memorize something by playing it through many times, and I doubt that I'll get to the "playing through" stage for many of the Bach movements, spending, as I will, just one week per movement.

On the flip side, it would be wonderful to have memorized so much great music. T'would be a great addition to one's brain.

Shifts are like pirouettes. Both are movements done in the spur of the moment that have to be just right to turn out well. You can practice them in isolation many times, but doing them as they come in the piece (violin) or combination (ballet) is always a little scary. You have to be confident. You can't do any funny motions in response to your fear. They will only hinder the motion you're afraid of in the first place.

Imitation in music

2009-08-19T20:05:00.000-07:00

Today, I buckled down a bit more than I had on my first day back at the violin. I practiced the shifts in my 3-octave C-major scale. I played the Schradieck Number 1 exercise slowly and insisted on hearing the notes ring. I practiced the fast sixteenth notes in the Kreutzer exercise with a metronome, gradually increasing my speed and using different rhythms to make the practice more interesting. As for Bach, I just counted it out loud! The rhythm of the last measure gives me trouble, so I tried to solidify it in my head today.

In violin, a note is out of tune unless proven in tune. When notes don't ring, they are out of tune. I used to think the opposite: that my intonation was fine unless it sounded bad. Once I realized how wonderful perfect intonation sounded, how nice ringing notes sound, I started insisting on it. Trying to, anyway. The Schradieck exercise sounds beautiful when all the notes ring, but if I play it fast and it's not quite in tune, I can tell something is wrong.

My old teacher, Arnold Liver, used to play with me at lessons quite frequently. I think part of the benefit of that was that I could match my intonation to his. If I was out of tune and he was in tune, our notes would clash and it would be obvious to both of us (not just to him!). If we were both in tune, our notes would ring.

Beyond that, playing with him allowed me to pick up his musicality rather than having to attempt it from his instructions. He taught more through music than through words. It's easier to play well with someone who is setting a good example. Then, the memories of that practice linger on. It's easier to copy someone by playing with them, then try to recreate that sound alone than to create a beautiful sound alone, from scratch.

It's funny how much thinking about how you want to sound affects your playing. But it does. And how you think about music depends on the music playing in your head every day and on the music you listen to. I think that listening to recordings of the music one is learning really does improve one's playing.

Week of August 16, 2009

2009-08-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

Kreutzer Number 1

C-major Scale

Bach Sonata in G-minor: Adagio; Cantabile.

I picked up my violin again after months of not playing. It was not too far out of tune.

As I played the C-major scale, my hand shook, and it brought back fond memories of violin lessons when my hand would shake on scales, not for lack of practice but out of nerves. I used to have terrible stomach problems the day of a violin lesson and have to relieve myself right before I started. I haven't done anything that made me so nervous since those lessons in my teacher's apartment during middle school - with the exception of the recitals, of course!

Playing violin is like riding a bike. My fingers remembered where to go. Shifts on the scale that I had once mastered were still in tune when I tried them today. Other notes I'd never gotten were still out of tune. Kreutzer Number 1 is very slow, and I have yet to master the bow-saving (multiple measures played on one bow) or the notes (some fast scales thrown in to accompany the slow bow).

As for Bach, it's still pretty much in tune. I learned the Adagio movement in the summer of 2007 and have been practicing it off and on since then. I got the double stops in tune, and they stayed that way, thank goodness. I still need to solidify the rhythm and make it musical and double check that intonation I say is so good, jinxing myself as I say it.

This movement is very lonely. It seems to me that the solo violinist is calling out for someone to listen to her. At least in the first few measures. I can't tell a story with the entire piece the way I once did with the second movement of the Bach Double (section D, the minor section, stood for "drugs," to give you the gist of my story).

Tomorrow, the novelty of playing violin will have worn off. It will be back to the grindstone.

But I'm 25 and playing for fun. It's different than when I was a kid and music was tied up with wanting to be talented and do well for my age. I'm just a gentleman violinist now, playing as part of a balanced life. That's the idea, anyway.

The Bach Season

2009-08-12T06:38:00.000-07:00

My favorite book is "the Mozart Season," by Virginia Euwer Wolff, in which Allegra Shapiro participates in a concerto competition with Mozart's 4th Violin Concerto. This year, I want to learn all of the Bach Sonatas and Partitas for Solo Violin. It will be the Bach Season.

I am inspired by Julie Powell's blog, "the Julie/Julia Project," in which she chronicles her journey through "Mastering the Art of French Cooking."

I will play one movement per week, along with one scale and one Kreutzer exercise. I won't by any means master each movement in a week, but I will appreciate it, and I will be playing the violin the whole time. I can always go back for seconds, right?

There are 42 Kreutzer exercises, 6 Sonatas, and a total of 31 (if I counted right) movements. I'm not going to count the scales. So in less than 52 weeks, I will have played them all.

One problem is that I have already tried this by starting at the beginning. In fact, I spent a whole summer on the first movement of the first sonata. Even so, I think I'll start from the beginning again, because I'll need to get back into playing, and that will be easier with pieces I already know.

It would be neat to upload recordings of my playing onto the blog, but it's not an easy thing to do. Julie Powell had nothing but text on her blog, so maybe I will stick with a simple format, as well.

Here goes.