Thoroughly Modern Mozart

Day 70: I joke that I eschew modern music, defining "modern" as anything north of Mozart, but in fact I stretch the rule to include Haydn. However, it is Amadeus himself who has my attention at the moment, and for the first time in many long years, I am seriously practicing a sonata. Now you must understand that there is a real live harpsichord in one corner of my living room, but it is extremely cantankerous about holding its tuning and an absolute bear to bring to a state of being tuned due to the fact that each string services two different notes and it has two voices (in other words, each note has to be tuned twice). That said, my husband was gifted with perfect pitch and kept it tuned during the years we were together. For me, the process of tuning becomes a two-day struggle, and by Tuesday, I often find that the notes I brought into accord on Monday have gone a bit flat. Such being the case, it does get tuned perhaps once a year, and played until even my poor ear acknowledges pitch problems. All is not lost, though. I replaced my massive upright grand piano with a small electronic keyboard several years ago and although I haven't been able to make much sense of the instruction manual, I've at least figured out how to get different voices. Mozart is lovely played as dual English horns. In the last few months, I have spent more time fingering the keys than in the whole of the last five years. It's delightful to lose myself in music once again.

Poco A Poco

Day 325: There's an old joke about harpists which applies almost equally to harpsichordists: they spend half their time tuning up and the other half of the time playing out of tune. Trust me, I know. I play both. Although a harpsichord holds its tune better than a harp, it is much more difficult to maintain because each note is serviced by two strings, each of which supplies a "voice," i.e., when A is struck and both voices are active, two plectra are raised to pluck adjacent strings. These voices can be isolated or muted at the performer's discretion, although doing so does not affect tuning. However, to further complicate the tuner's job, each string runs the length of the sound box from one tuning peg, goes 'round a stationary peg and returns to be wound on a second tuning peg to give the next musical half-step. In other words, A and B-flat are played on halves of the same string in any one voice. As the tuner brings A to pitch, the tension of B-flat is also affected, so that a balance must be achieved, and each voice must be tuned separately.

Okay, if you're good and confused, maybe you'll understand why I always left the tuning of my harpsichord in my late husband's capable hands. The man couldn't read a note, but had perfect pitch. It took him about half an hour to perform the equivalent of a full-day operation for me. Since I've been on my own, tuning is something I try to avoid, often playing with the instrument so badly out of pitch that it makes me cringe, and never playing in front of anyone.

I've been feeling a need for music in my life, and not the kind which comes out of a speaker. As a side to my current interest in Morris dance, I've dragged out a recorder and my harmonica and have been picking away at "Shepherd's Hey" and "Tinner's Rabbit." Although that has satisfied my desire to make music, it hasn't done so fully, hence my project for the morning: tune the harpsichord. I settled in for the siege, but surprised myself by having it done in about an hour. Now, where's Haydn hidin'?