Something in me changed after I saw Dear Lara. I’ve engaged with lots of media pertaining to sexual assault/harassment in addition to the stuff my friends and I discuss behind closed doors and in DMs, but Lara’s film cut across some threshold I didn’t know there was anything beyond. Perhaps what’s changed more than anything is where I am in life. A beloved colleague once delightfully described perimenopause as a jet pack of rage. Unbound. Feral. Above all, motivated. It makes sense that the average age when a survivor of child sexual abuse goes public is 52. Middle age, though turbulent in its own way, has a lived-in quality that is hard to find—and trust— in earlier decades.

That’s what I’m sensing right now. This topic has always been important to me, but before now, I felt unable to contribute more than a whimpered “me too”, while also worrying about diluting my brand and jeopardizing my career by showing up as my whole self in my writing. I’m probably the last person to realize it, but that is such a stupid and self-limiting perspective. I counsel students dealing with shame to stop doing the work of their perceived detractors for them, and here I was doing the same thing to myself on a much larger scale.

So here’s what’s next on this front: first, all pedagogical content will be on the front page of the blog, as usual. New courses are coming shortly!

I plan on devoting a meaningful portion of my energy towards advocacy and activism, and it will live here, as well as on social media. I’m in the initial stages of curating a collection of essays—you can read more about it, including how to contact me anonymously via Signal, by navigating to the “Advocacy and Activism” page. More soon.

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This piece originated as an assignment that sort of went rogue and proceeded to take over my life. It’s taken a long time—too long—to get it out into the world, but that’s a story for another day.

Today, I want to share a very different kind of post. While it’s certainly not the “here’s a deep dive on this technique” or “listen to this recording” you’re used to, it’s important to realize that, for many professionals, our musical lives are inseparable from the experiences we had—and continue to have—in the culture that surrounds us. When I write or give a workshop about stage presence, my body and mind are suffused with memories, both fond and shall we say, instructive. The teachers and colleagues who supported me are right there; present and taking up space, along the ones who went out of their way to maximize pressure and revel in my defeats. Other topics bring up their own contingent of characters: Brahms’ E minor Sonata will forever ring with Ron Leonard’s stern guidance on bow apportionment and my introduction to martelé. Haydn D major was my audition warhorse and has collected associations like black clothing picks up pet hair, among them, the time I played it for a former mentor and woke the next morning to a lengthy email about the things he’d like to do to me. I am fortunate that this and other experiences have not sapped my ability to enjoy music, though they have absolutely affected my career trajectory every bit as much as injuries and insider politics have.

All of this is to say that there is no way to truly separate the things we love about classical music from the things we do not. We can examine the disparate elements individually, but one cannot say they have a grasp of the way things work without acknowledging the entire mechanism. Fans of musicians, sports teams, film franchises often recoil when an incident of abuse/discrimination/other malfeasance comes to light. Comment sections overflow with “stick to sports, no need for this shit” and “I don’t care if he molested girls, this album slaps” and “I mean, women are just doing this to get back at him”. I don’t assume good faith on the part of most PeopleInTheComments™️. The internet teems with cowards whose only pleasure is making misery and smooth-brained edgelord cosplayers, not to mention the armies of bots. But for the handful of thoughtful people who resist facing up to the problems within the culture of your chosen passion, know this: your compliance is a necessity for the cycle to continue. Bad actors aren’t stupid. They’re awful people who explicitly understand they can count on folks like you to flinch more at the mention of abuse than the fact of the abuse itself. Abusers often hide behind charisma, professional networks, and the protection of the people they have not harmed. They’re very rarely the cartoon villains we would rather them be. That’s how it works. If there was an overwhelming sense that the general public would demand action and accountability following credible accusations of abuse, the entire landscape would change.

Lara St. John’s documentary is a treatise on one of the only quiet parts of a life in music: the pervasive silence surrounding the topic of sexual assault, harassment, and intimidation, especially when it comes to venerated instructors and the institutions that employ them.

My hope is that we can look back at this moment in a few years and appreciate the seismic shift in classical music culture that emerged as a consequence. If that happens, we will have Lara St. John and others like her to thank for it.

If you’d rather watch on YouTube, click here.

CW: non graphic discussion of sexual assault.

The Threshing Machine 

The parable goes something like this: ten men are in a room, and one of them makes a vile joke at the expense of women. Two of the men laugh. Three chuckle a bit to fit in, though they don’t find it amusing. Four say nothing, pretending they did not hear it at all. Afterward, nine of the men believe they are the good guys, and that the one who made the joke is the exception. 

The room is real. It’s a locker room, of course. It is also a staff lounge, a conference call, a cocktail party, a church vestry, a group chat, a political rally, a boardroom. These are spaces where currents of power intermingle seamlessly with depravity, where even a whiff of nonconformity can cost a career. Silence, after all, is golden. 

Violinist Lara St. John’s documentary filmmaking début is titled Dear Lara, which premiered at the Santa Barbara Film Festival earlier this year. Inspired by the overwhelming response to her public account of abuse in the Philadelphia Inquirer, it chronicles the devastating experiences she and others have been subject to at the hands of a trusted instructor—facilitated by a culture of institutional complicity that borders upon sadism. 

Tacet 

Dear Lara is beautiful, unflinching, and harrowing. Unadorned by any sense of overt production slickness, mechanics of abuse are laid bare: a filing cabinet drawer opened just enough to obscure a studio window. Lessons organized to occur off campus. A throat gripped tightly to muffle screams. St. John, whose rape by Jascha Brodsky has been acknowledged by Curtis, was blackmailed into silence. Brodsky pointed out that if she told anyone, it would cost not only her, but her brother Scott, their prized Curtis education. Throughout the film, original music composed and performed by St. John embodies the dual nature of the relationship to their instrument survivors often remark on. Music is a life-affirming vehicle for expression and authenticity, the love of which led them to their abusers.

The way these systems are held in place could nearly be described as elegant. Children who discover a passion for music are funneled into the academy as early as possible; and families who want their children to succeed are encouraged to essentially surrender them to the conservatory: think Curtis, Colburn, Chetham’s. Once there, students are made acutely aware that their primary teacher has real scope to wield power, and the institutional rules are absolute. Every attendee is on probation during the entirety of their enrollment and may be dismissed at any time, further skewing the power dynamic and providing a muscular tool for punishment. Mature enough to have deep feelings about Brahms, but young enough to have little functional control of their lives, these children are wildly vulnerable to malign intent. 

When a student reports abuse as St. John did in the months following her assault(s), decision-makers often respond with some combination of incredulity, defensiveness, and deflection. Former Curtis dean Robert Fitzpatrick essentially asked what he was supposed to do about it, pointing out that people were less likely to believe a child accuser than a celebrated pedagogue. Eventually, it was decided that Lara would study with a different teacher. To comemmorate this fresh start, the wife of the school director took St. John out for ice cream at a posh hotel. At the end of the conversation, one thing was clear: this was quid pro quo. For the privilege of this arrangement, she was expected to remain quiet.

By the time St. John was ready to seek a legal remedy, the statute of limitations had expired. In Pennsylvania, plaintiffs have two years from the time of an assault to bring a case to court, meaning St. John would have had to secure an attorney and build a case at age 16. According to Professor Marci Hamilton, founder and CEO of Child USA, the average age of disclosure—when survivors feel ready to speak out and/or go to court—is 52. The solution Hamilton proposes is simple: eliminate the statute of limitations on allegations of child sexual abuse. Murder carries no SOL, Hamilton notes, and is perhaps the only other crime where the victim is so utterly powerless after the fact. 

A familiar leitmotif accompanies these horrifying accounts of abuse. Like problematic Catholic priests, teachers who have done irreparable harm are allowed to resign “for personal/family reasons,” and go on to find lucrative positions at other institutions. Highlighted in the film: Stephen Shipps, Rafael Druian, Michael Brewer, Jan Repko, Chris Ling, Duncan McTier. There are certainly more.

Ostinato

After a student completes their conservatory training, the school helps facilitate the transition into a high-profile performing career. This is not an act of magnanimity; it is the expected return on investment. The institution shares in the spotlight, its reputation burnished, endowments secure. Once established in the music business, many survivors feel unable to risk saying anything: for fear of retribution, and because one can never be sure how colleagues—even women, even other survivors—will react. Victims are painted as ungrateful for complaining. Why push back against a man, an institution, a system that imbues life with such beauty, purpose, and meaning? What will this mean for the legions of musicians who benefit from the status quo? 

There is a defensive cynicism at play, the idea that sexual harassment is just the way awkward or old men pay a compliment; unwanted touching is not the end of the world, the occasional rape the price of admission. It seems too ghastly to be the official policy of any organization, yet when you follow the money, it is implicit. This is common practice across industries. The FAA, for instance, privately estimated the troubled Boeing 737 Max variant would suffer 15 crashes over a period of 30 years following the loss of Lion Air Flight 610. The fix would be expensive and bad press could crater the stock price, so it was allowed to keep flying until the loss of Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302, after which the FAA pronouncement became public and the plane was grounded. A risk becomes de facto institutional policy if it is acknowledged but not remedied. 

What of the outliers? The female aggressors? The men who have been assaulted, bullied, and harassed? While only an unserious interlocutor would venture a comparison to the number of male perpetrators, it’s difficult to get a handle on the extent of these abuses. In addition to the pressures that discourage women from coming forward, male survivors risk being labeled “not real men”. Distilled to its purest form: the belief is that women are weak and thus allowed to be victims. Traumatized men who come forward are seen as something even worse: they’re just like women. 

Poco a poco

Where does excellence come from in the conservatory? Most would make the reasonable argument that it comes from both students and teachers.  Institutions develop reputations for their superstar alumni, and over time, the details become elided: it is the institution itself that is great, bestowing greatness upon the select few allowed within. It is natural to feel protective of these iconic places, to resist tinkering with an establishment that has yielded a steady stream of compelling, successful artists for generations. Yet, evolution is essential for any organism. Classical music survives despite the culture of normalized abuse, not because of it. 

Dear Lara closes with a hopeful example. In response to its own scandal, the Amsterdam University of the Arts took the calls for institutional transparency to a new level in the construction of its new conservatory. Students are taught by a team, rather than a single primary instructor, avoiding the reliance on a single relationship to establish a path into professional music. The building itself is a series of lucent rectangles, inviting anyone passing by to witness lessons, rehearsals, and classes. In the film’s final minutes, the dazzling campus is bathed in soft sunlight, the metaphorical antidote to secrets and shame. 

One reason our field resists change is because we have all been groomed to some extent. Pedigree, tradition and lineage; these things are currency in classical music, and it is very human to resist retrofitting a long and deeply held respect for a person or an institution in the face of these unfurling scandals. It is also human to fear for one’s own prospects, to quail at the thought of being that inconvenient voice of dissent in the room. Courage does not denote a lack of fear. It simply means that there are things more important than fear.

Resources

Lara’s website

Dear Lara website

Katherine Needleman’s Queen of Filth Digests

ChildUSA website

The Representation Project Sound Off: Make the Music Industry Safe

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In the meantime, be good to yourselves, each other, this planet, and the creatures we share it with.

❤️‍🩹, Em

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How casual and relaxed. Completely in control, technically incredible, everything intentional and coherent. Authentic. This performance comes after years spent away from the sport. At the time she retired, she was a world champion, doing the most aggressive programs—including quads—in history. When she entered puberty, encountering the poisonous culture endemic to so many performing disciplines, she was told to starve herself, even as her body was trying to grow. Her center of gravity changed, and she was told to find her prepubescent body to keep up with the crazy degree of difficulty in her competition routines. It became joyless, and she continued only out of duty and habit. At 16, the age when everything should be ramping up, she walked away from competitive skating.

How did she end up an Olympic gold medalist after all that?

I watched an interview with Brian Boitano, where he described Alysa realizing she still loved skating and had more art to share with the world, but not on terms set by USA Skating or external parties who would want her to change. She wanted to eat whatever she wanted- because she knows herself best. She wanted to choose her own music. Have a say in every step. This should not be legendary, but such is the infantilization of women in sport that it is. Here’s the important part: Boitano detailed the programs of the women who were headed for the world championships and Olympics in 2025 and 2026. Every one was markedly easier than the programs Alysa was performing before retiring. Some of her programs were more difficult than the men’s! So little miss Athlete of the Moment was able to skate out of her mind with joy, artistry, technique, and complete abandon because her performance was simple compared with her preparation.

So stop me if you’ve heard this one before, but…

…this is what we should be doing ALL THE TIME. It’s why we take straight sixteenth notes and add confusing rhythms. Why we play scales with 8, 12, and 24 notes to a bow. Why the Popper High School exists. Why sprinters put weights in their shoes, and goalies have white pucks fired at them. We train in the hardest dojo available so the actual sparring we do in performance feels effortless.

BUT it only works if you have a robust foundation, and it’s the rare adult learner who hasn’t got a few vulnerabilities in this area; it’s simply part of the thing. The trick is what comes next: any skill will remain unpredictable without strong fundamentals, and lots of players I encounter find plausible sounding justifications for ignoring them.

Imagine living in California with a cracked foundation beneath your home. It happened early, maybe even as the house was being built. As a result, the walls don’t meet at exactly 90º. There is a slight bulge in one room, very hard to pick up on, but you can see it in the meniscus of your tea, the gentle slope from high to low. You know the foundation, the thing your very safety relies on, is cracked, and the next earthquake could cause the entire thing to collapse. But you’re busy living in the house, so you keep filling it with glittering objects and admiring the pleasing aspects of this, the place you live. Of course, visitors are immediately struck by the listing structure and don’t even notice the décor. What you imagine is only perceptible internally feels like walking into the famously distorted room Van Gogh occupied during his time in Arles.

To even a modestly discerning observer, every note played by someone with weak fundamentals is shot through with the essence of instability. It’s like saying words in another language without knowing their meaning: you’re just making sounds. The clip below demonstrates the full effect. 😂

Without understanding the meaning, there can be no art. Only fear, dread, and the persistent sense that everything is a guess; that this is unknowable.

The last 25 years of my life have been focused almost exclusively on thoroughly, jubilantly, entirely rejecting that idea and coming up with all kinds of ways to make sure you believe—and benefit from—it. This is all knowable, no matter where you are or want to go. The best time to install an impermeable foundation was when you first started. The next best time is today.

Alysa Liu’s performance is the example I did not know I was searching for to illustrate the reciprocal nature of expressive artistry and technique. And though I never shy away from telling difficult truths, the main thing I want you to take away as I close this out is that this is about joy. Joy that you are entitled to. Joy that, were there some other way to access it, I would evangelize about with equal fervor. Joy that comes when you rebuild your forever home on a foundation that supports you, every step of the way.

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I’m about to do a monster day of writing and recording today so hopefully Thursday/Friday sees new YouTube and podcast stuff. In the meantime, I’d like to share a young cellist who caught my eye at last year’s Sphinx competition. I got to know Sphinx through Sheena, one of the first faculty members at Tamarack. It’s an incredible org that Aaron Dworkin founded about 30 years ago to foster and promote young Black and Latino classical musicians. The amount of skill and talent funneled into—and coming out of— Sphinx is breathtaking, and if you’re looking for a place to donate to, I think of a better one.

I’d love to hear what you see and hear in Sonya’s playing. Her technique is astonishing and efficient, very deliberate, even during quick passages. But of course, it’s my jazz heart that comes alive when I listen to her- there’s a sense of freedom and experimentation even in this hundreds of years old music, and her improvised asides and cadenza encapsulate everything I love about music. She plays with a sense of joy and possibility, and as a younger person, I would have burned with envy. Now, all I see is greatness shared; a gift.

Sending you love, peace, and tempered leading tones. ❤️

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Range

1. The Cult of the Head Start

This chapter, which I covered in a previous post, talks about a worldview readers of this blog are well versed in: one where getting started early and with great focus is the key to developing expertise. It’s understandable, and we see what could be thought of as evidence of it all the time, especially in music, dance, chess, and certain sports.

2. How the Wicked World Was Made

This chapter starts out with an interesting anecdote about IQ tests. Essentially, researchers looking at the scores of WW1 vs WW2 soldiers noticed that, even adjusted for other factors, scores went up across the board. One of my favorite stats quoted: “…if an adult who scored average today were compared to adults a century ago, she would be in the 98th percentile.” The tests had to be continually “restandardized” for this reason, with the benchmark of 100 remaining the average.

The tests used were called Raven’s Progressive Matrices, which are designed to test a person’s ability to synthesize and work with complexity, aka fluid intelligence. The study design is important, because cognitive aptitude is very different from knowledge. And I know you know this, but sometimes they get swapped or combined when we talk about people doing incredible things. The metric to keep an eye on is the ability to take on new challenges. Lots of people can do stuff, and do it decently enough. Especially if they’ve had time and practice. A child could learn to assemble a fairly complicated object—fast fashion depends on it, in fact. But do they understand what each part of the process is? The nature of the process? Or are they doing rote repetition? Were I to be tested at a task, let’s say, attaching a sleeve to a shirt with a sewing machine, against a 5 year old who has attached sleeves to shirts for 6 months, I would get a low score, well below average. I’m not only not good at working with sewing machines, but I’m also going up against someone who has done the task for literally 1/10 of their life while also having very little experience at everything else to distract them. Then they give the two of us a test where we have to drive a lap using a car with a manual transmission. I’m not great at that either, but I know how it goes, the order of operations, lots of experience driving cars, and I’m also much larger than the kid, all of which would contribute to me rating higher than the kid. It’s not the people, the problem is the question the test is asking, and the complete failure to acknowledge the way age and life experiences impact certain tasks. Neither of my fictitious tests offered any insight except how good someone was at the specific skills involved in the experiment!

I bring this up because it’s tempting to see the difficulty we encounter learning to play a stringed instrument and chalk it up to a dearth of talent or being at a later stage of life. Seeing 17 year olds who play as if they could teach Piatagorsky a thing or two pours fuel on this fire: they’ve been at life for such a short period of time, and look what they can do! The thought arises: I’m too old, and I’m probably missing something required to play like that. The first part is wrong, but you’re right about the second, although not in the way one might expect. You didn’t get to commit yourself to your instrument when the demands of your life were, for the most part, simpler. We don’t discuss it much, but there is a real advantage to learning a skill before the world robs us of the freedom to screw around a bit. To enjoy something without it having to be your job or a referendum on your worth as a human. Being afraid to make a mistake is something we are taught, although we all agree that nobody is perfect and mistakes are part of life. So what we do, by not naming this conflict clearly, is make the essence of humanity—our tenderness and fallibility—something to feel really bad about.

Humans are pattern seekers. We do it for every conceivable reason, and in adulthood, avoiding shame and the wasting of time become high priorities. In some real sense, the nasty voice in your head is on your side, trying to prevent undue suffering caused by not recognizing the pattern called stop wasting your time, this can’t possibly be right. Life is full of moments when this instinct is exactly correct, when trying for 30 more seconds or 10 more years is damaging.

Examples:

The car feels weird when you drive it, maybe it’s nothing? Rats, it’s a puncture. I kept driving, and now the wheel is bent.

They hurt as soon as I put them on, but I’ll get used to these shoes. Wow, I need 14 bandages and I hope these blisters don’t get infected.

I know they haven’t answered my last two texts, but that doesn’t mean they’re not into me. I’ll send a few more! *cue Bridget Jones All By Myself scene*

Heck, it’s so good, so here it is.

So it’s into this context that we pour our efforts. It’s especially hazardous because the people who find me tend to be wonderfully vulnerable, highly motivated, and serious about music. If you’re doing the right things at the right pace, the process almost immediately starts throwing errors. A schism opens. Squeezing through the cracks to come for the things you love: doubt, dread, and fear.

For every aspect on the left side of that graphic, there is at least one aspect on the right that pulls against it, and if you are a disciplined student who cares deeply about this stuff, it probably affects you more. Here are the correspondences I notice the most:

Enjoyment is susceptible to feelings of wasted time, vanity, and shame.

Discipline, to confrontation, shame, confusion, wasted time, futility, pain.

Patience, to wasted time, futility, and failure.

Community, to shame and critique (uncredited cameo: comparison).

Vulnerability is susceptible to all of it. Every last one.

Expression, to confusion, failure, shame, worries about being wrong, and pain.

Creativity, to failure, futility, fears of wrong choices and critique.

Improvement, oddly, can lead to all of them, too. Because folks like us are awfully good at seeing our progress as an accident or a mirage, so we move the goal posts just to make sure there is never a moment to be where you are on the instrument and appreciate what you’ve done.

We tend to weigh negative experiences as more relevant than positive ones, because that famously kept our ancestors from grabbing a burning log or drinking fetid water more than once. As an exercise, the next time a wave of something big and unwelcome comes over you in relation to your playing (either while practicing or just contemplating), pay attention to where it manifests in your body. Register the amplitude of the sensations. Can you think of an occasion where they would be appropriate? As someone who trends towards anxiety and has had several really scary surgeries, I can name that pretty easily. When my stage fright was at its height, the sensation felt like a heavy, cold glove reaching up through my guts and closing around my throat. I would sweat and vibrate more than shake. My fear before playing a single movement in front of 20 of my peers was identical to the fear I had before my spine surgeries. These were low stress performances. We all had to do a few each semester, and every music major had to attend a few dozen as a requirement. There was an acceptance that these were pieces in transition, that the performance was a first test drive. But my body felt like there was a chance I might not get out of this thing alive.

Tip:

Sometimes feeling your fear in your body (rather than experiencing it as a thinking) helps the freight train of pervasive unhelpful thoughts detach a bit. Your body and mind do not have to feed off of each other like this. Imagine a situation where these feelings are normal and reasonable (a close call with a car/pedestrian, being startled awake by thunder or an earthquake, waiting for a medical diagnosis). Nothing else. Don’t chastise yourself for feeling any particular way, just sort of draw a line from how you’re doing in this moment and know that you’ve felt like this before, and your body wants to tell you about it. As in an art house horror movie, it’s almost always scarier if the monster isn’t named or clearly visible. Being able to label and place the sensations has a way of knocking the fear down a bit.

Many students are already on top of this stuff, which gilds the experience with extra awfulness: If I understand this, if I’ve done the work on myself and my instrument, should this not be…less present? If you’re anything like me, I intellectualize stuff before ever allowing myself to benefit from it. I know this about myself, and while I don’t love the output of it, I do know it comes from something good (introspection and a desire for improvement). Eventually, I’ll have to make the leap and decide that the thing I understand applies to me. Not just everyone else. That takes time, and you are allowed to take it.

Interesting fact: a 2015 study revealed that over 3/4 of Americans land in careers unrelated to their field of study in college. Aside from a lack of high paying humanities jobs, what conclusions can you take away from this? Fluid intelligence sure seems like a useful attribute.

The last thing I’ll talk about is the idea that you don’t know what you don’t know. In Range, Epstein details a series of studies from the 1930s where villagers dwelling in remote areas of what are now Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan were asked to sort objects into different categories. Important to note, these cultures had ways to describe quantities, but they did not have the concept of numbers as abstractions. So, 3 was something that described how many sheep were born. How many bales of hay would sustain the cows. But 5 minus 3 would have been nonsense. They would ask, “5 of…what?” This is not dissimilar to concepts in music. Sure, every student I’ve taught can count to 4 and knows that 4×4 gives you 16. Does that translate to flawless rhythm? Excellent sight reading? You know the answer.

So these villagers were asked to put different colored wool skeins into groups based on similarities. The less remote the village, the better they were at the task. These folks would group shades of red and brown, purple and blue, and white and yellow wool skeins together. Enter the more rural villages, and things change. First off, the words they used to describe the colors were much more specific. The wool was pistachio, not just green. The beige with flecks was cotton in bloom, not just white. When asked to group the items, the premodern villagers refused. “There is nothing in common!” they would say. When pushed, with researchers saying they MUST make some sort of group, they made random choices, and complained heartily about being made to do so. Some seemed to group the wool by color saturation, which I found delightful. These same villages saw no similarities between other examples, too: a square drawn with solid lines was not paired up with the same sized square drawn with dotted lines. The tests have been repeated over time with similarly isolated peoples. In Liberia, young adults with some degree of contact with modernity reproduced the same results, grouping a fireplace, blanket, and a jacket together as “things that keep us warm”, whereas isolated villagers found the entire exercise preposterous. The more remote test subjects repeated the random results when they were forced to group items they could not relate.

Bringing this into a more familiar context, tests of fluid intelligence among western academic students show the same patterns. For questions where no formal training is required to understand what was being asked, students did well. When they opened up the questions to a wide variety of problem solving and groupings, students did abominably outside of their field of study, with English and Biology majors doing particularly poorly. To quote from the text:

What I’d like you to contemplate: the reasons why we struggle are not nearly as important as a willingness to engage with the struggle. As you advance, it’s natural to look for familiar methods and principles from other areas of expertise, or even from prior musical work. It’s a useful instinct, and will often reward you with the insight you seek. There are times, however, that you cannot know what you don’t know. Because you’ve lived the life you’ve lived, learning things and gaining skills that would probably baffle your musical heroes. That was not wasted time! What you’ll find as we continue exploring Range, you may even be able to turn it into an advantage.

If this has been thought provoking and you’d like to go deeper, here are a few journal prompts:

Think about what you are most skilled at. When did you first encounter this skill?

Think about a hobby you abandoned. Why did you come to it? Why aren’t you doing it now?

Think about your favorite musician (who plays your instrument) and imagine what it would feel like to play with that kind of facility. How does that differ from the way it feels when you play? What are you doing to close that specific gap?

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Attention musicians, actors, dancers, and other creatives! I am holding a salon later this year, date to be decided to best fit the participants’ schedules. Previous iterations were more like casual master classes with only string players, but this is a true performance opportunity, and like the salons of old, we intend to come correct. This is a chance to take your idea, scene, poem, movement, composition, or other creative product and apply the beneficial pressure only an upcoming performance can provide!

Who: you, a person who has worked on something creative. What: a gathering of other open hearted creatives where we perform for each other and discuss, react, ask questions to help each other get to the next level with this effort. When: mid spring, at a day and time that works for everyone Where: online, via Zoom. Why: receive feedback, focus your mind, meet new people, find safety and inspiration, to try something new.

This will be an actual salon, meaning that participants are meant to talk a little about where they are with what they’re working on, and also provide feedback to the other presenters. We are creating a collegial community with this event. Participants’ spouses and/or mentors are welcome, but otherwise this session will not be open to the public. Participants are welcome to record their performance for personal or professional use.

Ideally, the salon will have between 8-12 participants, depending on the length of performance. If there is tremendous interest, a second date will be held.

Interested? Fill this form in by 16 March 2026. Participants will be announced 20 March 2026. The Salon will be sometime in March or April.

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So I thought I’d give folks a chance to relate to what I’m working on in whatever way their brain finds most pleasing. Not all content goes across platforms, but for the next few months, I’m going to be retrofitting my Youtube channel and podcast feeds with readouts of the blog posts that seem ripe for the crossover.

Lonely Cello is available everywhere, but here’s the source feed for all of them: https://soundcloud.com/lonelycello

Here’s my YT channel: https://www.youtube.com/@EmilyWrightCello

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disappearing practice
noun
dis·​ap·​pear ˌdis-ə-ˈpir-ring ˈprak-təs

The phenomenon wherein a player acquires knowledge, familiarity, facility, or otherwise makes progress during a practice session, yet the next time they set about playing said item, it is nearly as if the prior practice did not occur at all. 

see also: frustration, why am I doing this, would this instrument bounce or shatter were I to throw it off of an overpass; maybe it would make a cool sound

There are three main culprits (with endless variations) for this.

low quality, repeat-centric practice

low quality, high-fiber practice

high quality, high fiber-practice

Before we begin, something to remember: none of these habits are a moral failing. In fact, they usually come from a desperate desire to be one with the music, to give voice to something important and essential and soulful. Everything I have written and will write is in recognition of this, but I respect my readers enough to tell it to you straight. It is natural to sometimes feel confronted by the things I talk about in the way I tend to talk about them. Know that my deepest desire is to give as many of you a chance at a long, healthy, artistically rewarding relationship with your instrument. Like the most meaningful relationships, it takes work. My work is helping you do this work.

Hallmarks of low quality, repeat-centric practice

This practice is the most common type, and I saw it as often at the conservatory as I do in students with very little experience. The primary reason folks do this is because they have not been taught to practice. Among my own students, who I give explicit practice direction to, there are still those who manage to sidestep the guidance due to any number of factors: resistance to change (I got pretty good practicing poorly, who are you to come in here and change things?), lack of self discipline (that was me, hi hello, with some fear thrown in), or the idea that anything other than a mini performance is a waste of time. Practice, actual practice, requires us to behold our shortcomings in the context of wild adversity (the repertoire is hard, the instrument is hard, humans are complicated) and work on them over a long period of time. There is also a very understandable resistance to encountering these difficulties in adulthood: the idea that some nebulous notion of talent should be present to make things easier is pervasive, as is the narrative that difficulty means you’re not meant to do something, as is the reticence to appear imperfect to an outside observer. Many teachers do a disservice to adults by withholding the true requirements to acquire and retain skill, yet are displeased by the fruits of the practice they do not instruct their students to undertake.

Hallmarks of low quality, high-fiber practice

High fiber refers to the act of running through a lot of material during a practice session: scale, études, multiple movements of one major piece. Unless you’re at a camp, conservatory, or a place in your life where you’re practicing 6 hours a day in preparation for a recital, recording, audition, or competition…this is too much. Far too much. The words to keep in mind are “a mile wide and an inch deep”: that’s what this practice will earn you if you’re working for 1-2 hours most days. Mastery and comfort come from the opposite approach: intimate knowledge of a work requires relishing the fine details of every phrase, taking time and care with each one.

Ingesting too much fiber causes food to sluice through the system before the body can absorb any nutrients. High fiber practice deprives its adherents of any substantive relationship with the music, full stop. There is no way you can retain much of anything because you scarcely learn anything with this approach. You get good at ignoring problems, though.

Hallmarks of high quality high-fiber practice

This is the hardest one to come to terms with. Let me start with an example from the repertoire, actually, Popper Nº 29, from the previous post. There is a section early on that looks like this:

I know, right? But it’s better to encounter sliding thirds and skidding sixths in a piece you didn’t grow up in love with, only to get dashed against the rocks when you give it a go. But the thing I want you to notice is that this is a rich text: the intervals adjust in some way nearly every time you play them! I circled the C#Es because the first time it’s played with thumb and 2, the next time, with 1 and 3, which are radically different feelings in my hand. Thumb 2 feels like an old friend. 1 and 3, in this context is more like this:

It’s not my favorite shape in this register. These measures are absolutely strewn with this skill. Then he adds accidentals (who doesn’t love E sharp?) and alternates between sliding around and staying in place. And it goes on and ON.

High quality practice of this passage requires a lot of patience, because every time it goes wrong, that’s a rep that the brain latches onto as a possibility until you override it with a bunch of correct reps.

In my practice of this today, I spent about 10 minutes on the first measure of the double stops, simply playing the bottom note first, audiating the top note, then adding the top note before going to the next shape. Then, using only my left hand, I did a silent run of the measure about 10-15 times, just to get the order of operations correct. Those operations are:

1. start on F#2, A thumb
2. shift a whole step with both fingers to rest on G#2, B thumb
3. stay in place, 3 is a half step above where it was for A2, C# thumb
4. stay in place for the same G#2, B thumb
5. shift a half step, bringing 2 from G# to A, but thumb moves a whole step from B onto C#
6. stay in place, 2 moves up a whole step to B on 2 and thumb moves up a half step find D.
7. … &c.

Now, I have a slightly different system for how I will actually turn this eventually, at some distant point in the future, into a less monstrous task, taught to me by Amit Peled. After finding the first shape, I see the next shape the hand shape in its entirety and only measure shifts with the lower note (usually; very occasionally the upper note offers more stability, but the orthodoxy is to secure the lower pitch first for all kinds of good reasons). But it doesn’t matter. To come up with those shapes, I have to do many passes of the method I listed above.

And even with that small sample size, it was too many shapes, too much for my body to make sense of. I kept finding myself asking, afresh, “Now, what was the trick to this shift?” and had to work it out all over again. Even though I had literally worked it out moments before. Writing all over the page didn’t help, either.

As a corollary to the TV practice post, this is the opposite of the cognitive load exercise I described there. Once I have this section under my fingers so I no longer need to read the music, I might introduce some attention splitting. But that is not recommended for the initial onboarding phase I’m talking about in today’s post. And I will be onboarding for at least a week, if you’re curious. I take extra time so I don’t injure myself and also won’t need to go back and retrace my steps after moving to the next phase too soon. The long road, taken once, is the short cut.

What I needed was a foothold. So I practiced the first two easier chords a few times, just making sure my technique was controlled and comfortable. Then I worked up the previous measure. Then I added the next chord, which took some time to get in tune, but it wasn’t conceptually challenging. The next one was. So that was my terminus for that practice session. I would go from the previous measure through the first thing I really struggled with. Over and over. Some might say it was more times than I should require, but I know what I need. Now firmly in midlife, I accept the more frequent memory lapses and competition for my attention. I do not enjoy them, but I am not about to pretend they don’t change my capabilities. It’s not all downside; I now feel more comfortable with playing pieces to my liking rather than in comparison (or competition) with someone else. But the key here is to know yourself, know your tendencies, and let them in. Examine them, have sympathy for them, and structure your practice to combat the ones that you know hold you back.

So to sum up, meticulous practice can still disappear on you if the task has too much going on. In this section, even just the first two measures of double stops have close to 2 dozen different things to measure, and that’s before looking at finer aspects of intonation and the certifiably insane bowing.

Tailor your practice of new notes to the steepness of the challenge contained within them. If you don’t have a good sense for where your limits are (because perhaps you feel like you only have limits at the moment) just assume that less is more, find a foothold: a note or notes that felt impossible when you sat down and becomes possible, if scruffy, after some work. Stay with that for today. If it’s largely intact when you sit down next time—your practice has not disappeared—then add the next one until it, too, shows up the next day. ‘Tis better to learn slowly and spend precious time than move too quickly and not learn at all.

I’m here if you have questions! Wishing you all an excellent week of practice.

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…oh no. Popper Nº 29.

Not that I have anything against it, but it’s one of three Popper Höhe Schule examples that I simply haven’t studied. At all! It happens to feature a lot of thirds, something that is just plain hard on a stringed instrument. Oh, and these are in thumb position. Sigh. This is not going to get into my hands over the course of a week. But the purpose of Popper is to install the right software to ready us for the repertoire, and I am excited to really start work on it. After an initial pass through the pages, I went to YouTube to see what the final result should look and sound like. Studying Popper in particular is helped by a visual demonstration, because he always has a few very particular things in mind, and some are not obvious until you’ve spent a week, for instance, playing spiccato when the actual instruction is sautillé (cries in solidarity with all victims of Nº27)

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Ah, mastery, the elusive goal that classical orthodoxy would have you believing is somehow impossible for adult learners. What I find interesting is the common misapprehension of what it actually takes to get there: many advanced students bring a piece to perform that is not even close to performance shape, let alone mastery. Then they move on, repeating the cycle, until the sinister, ancient idea looms in the back of their head once more: you will never master anything on this instrument, you fool. It is something in you that is the issue. It’s most accurate if you say it in the whispery voice with which The One Ring calls out to Frodo.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it a little differently here. You must learn the rhythm. Until it is automatic. You must learn the notes. Until they are automatic. You must learn the articulations and dynamics and other artistry. Hone every note with intention and craft. ONLY THEN does practice start. Practice is repeating what you’ve learned, what is already automatic, until you would bet your life that the chance of missing something is infinitesimal.

I would be willing to wager, as someone who was extremely good at the aforementioned cycle of what is essentially self sabotage, that many of you have never mastered a single note on your instrument. Not that you haven’t played well. I am almost certain you have! Mastery is a physical sensation; a state of the nervous system as much as a set of repeatable gestures. Many students, especially long term adult learners, have become attenuated to unholy levels of anxiety, self loathing, and dread relating to their playing experience. And that becomes the baseline, so that over time, like a clenched jaw, one only realizes it’s happening when it becomes a problem, or is pointed out by someone else. Even an open string, played in the presence of an instructor or colleague, comes with a tidy parcel of doubt and perhaps a wince. Because that’s how being at your instrument feels nearly all the time.

I’m going to devote this year trying to help folks explore this stuff and come up with some solutions, the first of which I will offer below.

Step 1 is what I’ll call open awareness practice. As you start your day, whether you practice or not, make a note (it’s great to jot this stuff down; something about articulating it has a wonderful way of knocking the stuffing out of the apprehension) of what your thoughts are. As you get closer to playing, notice if and how the thoughts or feelings are changing. Notice where in your body these sensations occur. Don’t try to change them: we’re trying to inventory this stuff, not stifle or alter it…yet. Here’s an example of what an open awareness journal might look like:

07:45 wake up, low grade worry about meeting at 3, a little chest tightness, nothing serious. looking forward to practice, starting a new piece
09:00 saw someone playing on Instagram and at first it was lovely but then a wave of sadness, my whole body sort of sagged, feel a little like Sisyphus, sometimes asking why I'm even doing this.
11:00 cello lesson in an hour, sitting down to warm up and do some final practicing. brain actually a little fuzzy, hands don't always feel like my own, sometimes hard to focus on one hand, mind distracted, shoulders tight. as soon as I sit down, I'm bracing for something bad. I am disciplined, so I power through.
14:00 lesson was fun, but was almost like I dissociated; scarcely remember much, I can recall a few ideas, but not sure if they were the teacher's emphasis. buzzy and high after lesson, now I want to nap, feeling a little ashamed of how it went, but not sure why.
15:50 meeting was fine, enjoyable, actually. I'm good at some things!
16:30 watched someone play a piece on YouTube and felt inspired again, chest tightness gone; I didn't realize, but I had been carrying it since before the lesson. 
Bedtime So tired, I don't even know what my body is feeling, but my mind is exhausted and busy. Sleep usually helps. Let's try again tomorrow.  

Do this for a week and get to know what your body reacts to the places you park your brain. No commentary or shame or judgement. Just notice. The next step is going to be talking some of these feelings off the ledge, while sifting through them for what they’re really responding to. None of this has no reason; we need to listen closely and then, with great care and affection for what they’re trying to do, parse, acknowledge, and, if needed, replace the maladaptive instincts with their more functional alter egos. One step at a time.

More soon, friends.

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The overarching project of the last 20 years has been retrofitting the repertoire I learned using maladaptive technique and a lot of emotional baggage with the improvements I’ve made and continue to make. Some pieces are easier than others; Bach is particularly thorny. When I was at CSUN, much of the work I did with Andrew Cook centered on composure: not being rattled, distracted (I had a horrible case of intrusive thoughts—random math problems that would sometimes strike during less taxing passages; the human brain is wild) or otherwise unable to park my brain in a productive place when the pressure was on. So he had me practice holding a conversation with him while I played the first movement of Haydn D. Like, a real conversation. At home, I would practice while watching ESPN, again, favoring the television and leaning on rote knowledge for the musical component. It made me a much more robust player, and the added bonus of not being able to focus on the minutiae of the occasional artifact in my sound or slightly pitchy extension was freeing.

This practice is just about the facts of the piece: do I really know it, even when the cognitive lift is heavier? When I’d find a passage that couldn’t tolerate the tv practice, I’d know that it needed more woodshedding. So, it’s a solid practice as well as a diagnostic tool. What I discovered is that with my sound sort of swallowed up by whatever is happening on the tv, I was able to commit to physical changes in my hands with a lot less resistance. Usually, the resistance comes from sounding worse when you try the thing you know is right for your body, but not for the sound. This practice is what got me through the Prelude of the 4th Suite the other day, which would have been impossible when I was 22.

Ingredients for TV practice:

• a piece or excerpt you are working on that is at least sort of memorized. you can look at the page between reps, but you need to not be staring at music for this to be effective
• tv with something legitimately interesting to you on, with subtitles
• giant honking rubber covered metal practice mute (the tv needs to be roughly equal volume, and the quality of sound is not the primary goal here.

Then, with the ideal feeling you and your teacher are working on securely set as your intention, lightly practice your passage. Mindlessly repeat it while mindfully remaining supple and in compliance with the physical change you’re implementing. Repeat. Repeat again. Lull yourself with the diffuse attention, which is not completely on one thing or the other, and no giant sound to assault your ears. You’re just watching tv and feeling nice in your body while playing.

The next time you do your typical (non distracted, non muted) practice, try to bring that blasé softness of body and mind into that space, too.

We just finished the last episode of Pluribus, season 1. Who wants to talk about it???

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Better to be hated
Than loved for 
What you are not

—André Gide 

Linking to my favorite version of it, a bombastic clubby mix that is forever in the rotation when I’m doing cardio. It has such great chord substitutions and I love the juxtaposition of the aggressive synths and how light her voice is. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

This playlist consists of three albums essential to my education, each phrase a master class in this is what good musical decisions sound like. I would encourage those of you who do not normally interact with jazz to venture forth, to build your lexicon of comparative sounds and styles. Allow new music to be the soundtrack of your life, grow the base of things you are familiar with, that make you feel new things and think in fresh ways. Wishing each of you peace, health, and abundance in the year ahead. 🕯️

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Last year, in the dead of winter, Henri had multiple seams open up, requiring a trip to the luthier and a re-evaluation of my humidification infrastructure. You see, Henri actually sounds better and is much easier to play in low humidity…when his seams aren’t yawning open to create more of a hurdy-gurdy sound. As an aside, I am thiiiiiiis close to getting extra weird and trying to learn both the hurdy gurdy AND the hammered dulcimer. This is where your friend Emily’s mind goes when she’s on multiple tight deadlines: ah yes, I shall alphabetize my sock drawer, clean the floors with a toothbrush, and learn the banjoloon.*

This time last year, I was using dampits and a tiny CVS humidifier (an odd choice, but it was recommended by Consumer Reports) that was perfectly serviceable in DC. Up here, in a house with no insulation and frigid gales capable of extinguishing a match coming through every outlet, window, and crack, it failed to raise the humidity above 25%, even in constant operation. So this year, I went out and got a different model with a massive reservoir, fancy options, and an oddly soothing light running around the bottom of it.

So now, I give you…my pean to the humble, indispensable humidifier. Full warning, I wrote this after an edible kicked in.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
I need you not in June or May
So perhaps a wintry tableau will do
To explain how fondly I think of you.

You fill the air with va'prous mist
Whilst Henri is in repose, contemplating Liszt
I'm relieved at least it is not Chopin
I might have let his seams stay open. 

So it's you, kind reader, I must profess
This goofy poem is meant to address
There is no good or proper reason
For your instrument to crack, this season! 

If dry climes do thee beset
It's not too late, no not quite yet.
Acquire with haste, your own humidifier
To make wintertime a bit less dire.

Get a good humidifier (and an external hygrometer) unless you live in a humid/temperate or tropical environment, friends! The hygrometer is useful anyway. Find your climate zone here. In LA, I had one going 24/7. In the UK, I never needed one! Baltimore, DC, Minneapolis, CT, I need one running about half the year.

*not a real instrument, I fear, but that’s never stopped me before

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The last time I worked on this piece, I focused solely on the Toccata: it’s incredibly sexy, wildly cellistic—one of those pieces you fall in love with for what it demonstrates about both instrument and instrumentalist. You fall in love with it as it takes your ego to the cleaners. You form a commitment to it while you take a day off to grieve the previous evening’s ego-to-the-cleaners session with a day of Galamian arpeggios.* You return to it again and again, beauty unfurling as the thing becomes, unbelievably at first, playable. Possible. In time.

I’m in the beginning stages of note acquisition in the other movements now, which entails lots of Mode 1 practice, score study away from the cello, and watching YouTube videos, as those help with fingerings and developing a sense for how other people are interpreting the piece. Not so much to copy them, but to know where the lines are so I might make sense of coloring outside of them, if I choose. Cue the old aphorism about knowing the rules before breaking them razza frazza something something…

Last night, I stumbled upon an old video from Benjamin Truchi that may well be one of my favorite recordings of the cello, period, let alone the Crumb. It’s that good. I was just now trying to listen to it while writing, but my eyes became smoked with tears and his playing demanded my full attention. Some credit must go to the composer for writing such a devastating treatise, but Truchi brings his own magic in abundance. So here, I share with you, about twelve minutes of staggering beauty and confrontation.

*if you aren’t clambering up and down the fabulous arpeggios in that Jensen/Galamian book, today is the day to start, my friend.

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I’ve just started reading Katherine May’s book Wintering, and I live in hope that some great universal shift will tilt us all in the direction of peace, compassion, and stability. In the meantime, we wait. ❄️

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This month is all about Anastasia Kobekina, one of my favorite cellists ever. She is top of mind right now, as I was lucky enough to review her new album of Bach Suites for Strings in the upcoming Jan/Feb issue. Normally I’m not drawn to listen to the Suites in my daily life; I mostly listen to jazz, and when I turn towards classical stuff, it’s quartets, or symphonies, or concerti. I don’t count score study and playing along with recordings as true listening, because my attention is split in a way it doesn’t have to be when I’m not participating. But her Bach is something new, something extraordinary. The sense of enjoyment is ever present, lingering, savoring, drifting through each note. I’ll let you read the review later, but for today, take this playlist and get to know the lovely Anastasia Kobekina.

1. She wore the same outfit for a bunch of performances, and it was a really cool outfit *
2. She plays with complete commitment
3. Her hair is incredible
4. Ideas about tone, time, articulation are refreshing
5. Collaborates with interesting people

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]]> https://emilywright.net/listen-up/november-2025-playlist-anastasia-kobekina/feed/ 2 8536 https://emilywright.net/being/oof-guys-and-october-playlists/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=oof-guys-and-october-playlists https://emilywright.net/being/oof-guys-and-october-playlists/#comments Mon, 06 Oct 2025 00:41:48 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8522 This year is too much, my friends. I was really making strides—multiple books in progress, regular posting here, applying to doctoral programs, a few speaking engagements and workshops, and renewed inspiration to write and produce music. Starting with my mother’s passing on June 30th, it’s been a freefall: difficult and traumatic stuff with close family, […]

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]]> This year is too much, my friends. I was really making strides—multiple books in progress, regular posting here, applying to doctoral programs, a few speaking engagements and workshops, and renewed inspiration to write and produce music.

Starting with my mother’s passing on June 30th, it’s been a freefall: difficult and traumatic stuff with close family, then our house was robbed July 17th (they took all of Parsons’ power tools and batteries and some other stuff, along with our sense of safety), then a health scare, then one of my favorite people in the world died September 8th, and then, on Monday, we had to put Beebee to sleep.

I weep as I type this. My life hasn’t completely collapsed, but something terrible is coming for me if I don’t give myself a little bit of time to regroup. I have a dozen blog posts in draft. Three podcasts halfway done. A few YouTube video blog companions mid-edit. And I enjoy putting all of this stuff out there, but I can’t keep doing things for free or cheap that cost me entire days to produce and sometimes don’t even generate any interest right now. As someone who used to be a prolific online creator, I feel this immense pressure to participate in the attention economy. Posts to remind you I exist! Posts that say I’m teaching a course! I interviewed someone cool! Here’s a thing you should try to make your playing more musical! In order for any of these things to be high quality, I need time, energy, and inspiration.

At this time, I have those things in abundance for my private students and writing for Strings. The rest of my energy I have to put into applying to school, fortifying my body and mind, and learning to ignore the intense FOMO that comes with watching the waves from the shore instead of being the one creating them. So I’m giving myself the rest of the year off from doing anything (optional) I don’t want to do.

This is not to say I won’t post here before the new year. Who knows, maybe the freedom not to post will turn into the inspiration I need; sometimes taking an option off the table is the only way to see how much you want it back on the table.

So, here are two playlists. The art on the October playlist is by the weird and wonderful Bill Crisafi. Oh, and since it’s my birthday month, here’s my very small gear wish list.

See you soon.

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]]> https://emilywright.net/being/oof-guys-and-october-playlists/feed/ 2 8522 https://emilywright.net/listen-up/september-2025-playlist/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=september-2025-playlist https://emilywright.net/listen-up/september-2025-playlist/#respond Fri, 12 Sep 2025 14:34:49 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8513 Here’s hoping we are not in “false fall” because I am ready for sweater weather and cozy times. Lots going on here; back soon! xo, em

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]]> Here’s hoping we are not in “false fall” because I am ready for sweater weather and cozy times. Lots going on here; back soon! xo, em

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]]> https://emilywright.net/listen-up/september-2025-playlist/feed/ 0 8513 https://emilywright.net/listen-up/august-2025-playlist/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=august-2025-playlist https://emilywright.net/listen-up/august-2025-playlist/#respond Tue, 05 Aug 2025 01:34:49 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8487 A little late, after some pretty dramatic travel delays. Note to self: maybe driving 16 hours straight twice in a week is…dumb?

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]]> A little late, after some pretty dramatic travel delays. Note to self: maybe driving 16 hours straight twice in a week is…dumb?

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]]> https://emilywright.net/listen-up/august-2025-playlist/feed/ 0 8487 https://emilywright.net/teaching-and-learning/coming-fall-2025-wednesday-themed-intro-to-cello-intensive/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=coming-fall-2025-wednesday-themed-intro-to-cello-intensive https://emilywright.net/teaching-and-learning/coming-fall-2025-wednesday-themed-intro-to-cello-intensive/#comments Tue, 05 Aug 2025 01:26:28 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8470 Already know you’re interested? Go to the bottom of the post and let me know! It’s been so much fun to see interest in the cello and playing pop/contemporary styles since Netflix’s Wednesday crashed into our hearts and minds in 2022. Actress Jenna Ortega took lessons in preparation for the role, and while her technique […]

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]]> Already know you’re interested? Go to the bottom of the post and let me know!

It’s been so much fun to see interest in the cello and playing pop/contemporary styles since Netflix’s Wednesday crashed into our hearts and minds in 2022. Actress Jenna Ortega took lessons in preparation for the role, and while her technique is not a finished product (see above photo), if she was one of my own students, I’d feel optimistic about her future on the instrument. It’s truly impressive that she got so far so fast and managed to do convincing fakery of some extremely difficult pieces. As someone who used to coach actors on Hollywood sets to do just that, I tip my hat to her, and her tremendous instructor, Jason Pegis.

So, in tribute to the spirit of both Wednesday and Jenna, I’m offering a two month spooky season intro to cello intensive, designed to get you as far as fast as possible…without injuries, confusion, or outdated snobby attitudes. And maybe a little Addams Family dark humor, too.

Something different about this course? It’s open to everyone, age 12 and up. I normally focus my teaching on adult students, but since a new generation is as excited about Paint it Black as I am, we’re throwing the doors wide open for this bad boy.

Two months is NOT enough time to be able play Paint it Black like this! But it is enough time to be able to play a simplified version. If you’re reading this and are a more advanced cellist who wants to try it, there are SO MANY tutorials on YouTube, and of course, you can contact me here for a lesson or three to get it into performance shape.

What will this crash course cover?

• essentials of left and right hand technique
• moody scales
• different bow techniques commonly used in pop
• Danny Elfman’s Wednesday theme song
• Goo Goo Muck by The Cramps (the dance song)
• Paint it Black, simple version
• intro to learning to play with emotion
• intro to improvisation
• strategies for being brave and fierce, even as a beginner

NOTE: if you want to take this course but do not know how to read music, don’t worry! I’ll be doing a free two-day music reading intro beforehand that will set you up. All you need to succeed in the main course is the basic concept, because the most important thing is going to be how you physically play the instrument. If you decide to stick with the cello, you’ll have time for the skill to develop and music reading will feel easy breezy.

hot take: some say reading music is like reading a foreign language. Yeah, sure, a language with 12 words. You got this.

I need to make sure we have 6 or more people for this course to run. If there is huge interest, I’ll add another cohort. I usually schedule classes like these on Sunday afternoons or early evenings, eastern time. Enrollment starts Sept 1, all classes on Zoom.

Do you need to rent an instrument? Music & Arts is nearly everywhere in the US, but I say use them as a last resort. Supporting local violin shops is good for the soul, good for the economy, and frequently you get better instruments for the same fee or less. If you live in the boonies (I live in the boonies!), there are lots of larger shops that ship rentals across the country, but the issue there is that you WILL need help tuning the instrument. Your local community college music department will have someone who can help you. And hey, if you end up wanting to keep going up with in-person lessons, you already have a connection there.

Are you interested in a Wednesday Addams cello intensive?

My blackened heart cannot waitDo an Enid one WOLF! OUT! WOLF! OUT!

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]]> https://emilywright.net/teaching-and-learning/coming-fall-2025-wednesday-themed-intro-to-cello-intensive/feed/ 2 8470 https://emilywright.net/teaching-and-learning/summer-school-2-practice-lab/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=summer-school-2-practice-lab https://emilywright.net/teaching-and-learning/summer-school-2-practice-lab/#respond Fri, 25 Jul 2025 13:53:09 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8450 This course has been postponed, please do not purchase it unless you are happy to have a credit for when it actually does run! Thank you for understanding ♥️ Summer School 1 was a real-time look at the way I break down a brand new [difficult] piece. The lab will be a similar brief, but […]

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]]> This course has been postponed, please do not purchase it unless you are happy to have a credit for when it actually does run! Thank you for understanding ♥️

Summer School 1 was a real-time look at the way I break down a brand new [difficult] piece. The lab will be a similar brief, but instead of an overview, I’ll be taking one or two very difficult passages and getting it/them under my fingers to a much higher level.

Already want to enroll? Go to the bottom of the post!

I was going to refer to the end point of the session as mastery, but that is genuinely not possible in a single session. Let me explain why:

I’m going to take this passage to something that will look nearly identical to mastery in one shot. The reason it will not be actual mastery is time.

The only way to master something that represents a real challenge is to acquire the skill necessary to do it, and then repeat that skill over time. It’s the fallow period between sessions that does it, actually. The way the brain works to move stuff from working memory—a region that holds onto information we have decided will need to be recalled in the near future—to long term memory (where mastery lives) requires downtime. I call this the gestation period, where the skill goes from an idea your body has an inkling of to a fully formed concept, ready for deployment.

An example: when you pay for one of those gas station car washes at the pump, you frequently get a receipt with a code to enter before driving in. When you look at the receipt and hold the numbers in your head, you’re into the realm of working memory. Now, if you know you’re going to lose the receipt between the pump and the entrance to the wash, you might work a little harder on those numbers, parsing them into groups that are easier to recall, or saying them more times than you normally would. This can make the memory stickier, but it’s still working memory, and it gets cleared out with frequency in favor of the other things that need to occupy that space: where you’re headed on that errand run, what you need to get, emails you want to reply to, small behavioral modifications you’d like to turn into habits, etc. That is not the place your musical acumen lives, ever.

If that car wash code was something crucial to your ongoing existence, like your phone number or post code, then you’d be interacting with it more often AND would have prioritized it differently.

Circling back to the appearance of mastery: last year, one of the cellists left early due to illness just before the Tamarack summer program’s final concert. As it was a chamber music centered event, I volunteered to learn the music so the ensemble could have a complete feeling performance. I had 75 minutes plus an ensemble rehearsal to get some pretty gnarly music under my fingers. While it was certainly not perfect, I think most observers would have given my playing a thumbs up, and non-musicians might have even mistaken it for mastery. The thing is…if I went over to that music right now, I would have to start the whole process nearly from scratch. Perhaps the ghosts of the ideas would remain, but the skill has left my body, because I didn’t need to take this music into my long term memory. I in no way mastered it.

So no, I will not be mastering something for this class. I will, however, be taking a passage or two and getting them to the point where my working memory recognizes that I am planning on recalling this information repeatedly. I will have all of the major problems worked out, a clear idea of how it sounds and feels, so that all I will have to do is conscientiously repeat the thing to trigger mastery.

Learning a movement (like I did in Summer School 1) and drilling a tricky passage are loosely related in approach but prioritize different things. It’s this shift in mindset—and the subsequent alteration of the scope of the task—that I want to clarify for you.

Summer School 2: practice lab

When: Sunday, August 24. 6pm eastern time.

Where: Zoom

What: an open practice session where I tackle a tricky passage or two to highlight the difference between spot work and generic practice. You are welcome to bring your instrument to try and apply the strategies demonstrated in real time. Questions are welcome and often enhance the quality of the lesson! A recording will be made available afterward for people who cannot attend at the time or would like to re-watch.

How much: $25, whether attended live or viewed via recording later. A Zoom link will be provided a day or two before the event.

Price Options

• $25.00

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One note about attending live: there can be a tendency for students to be passive when attending online classes. Perhaps in person, information can wash over you and you come away with a real sense of understanding afterward. I love Zoom classes, but they require a lot more of both student and teacher. Even compelling topics can border on tedium if care is not taken to cultivate attention. You MUST participate in order to get more than a vague notion of what is being discussed. Humans pay better attention when we know there is a test. In the case of these courses, the test happens when you’re alone in your practice room, and alas, I will not be there to correct or guide you. Even if it’s a simple paraphrase, showing up more actively benefits every aspect of the course.

I am sympathetic to students with social anxiety. If the idea of talking in a Zoom class makes you want to die, put the question in the chat! You can also type/ask “would you say that again?” or “can you explain that in a different way?”. These classes are meant to be a conversation. Take charge of your end of things and watch the amount of information you synthesize expand.

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]]> https://emilywright.net/teaching-and-learning/summer-school-2-practice-lab/feed/ 0 8450 https://emilywright.net/being/unexpected-road-trip/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=unexpected-road-trip https://emilywright.net/being/unexpected-road-trip/#comments Thu, 10 Jul 2025 21:55:50 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8432 After a long decline with COPD and two years of dementia, my mom passed away last week. Ours was a complicated and difficult relationship, and while there is a surreal quality to the days that have followed, the nature of our interaction meant that I grieved the loss of a mother for nearly two decades. […]

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]]> After a long decline with COPD and two years of dementia, my mom passed away last week. Ours was a complicated and difficult relationship, and while there is a surreal quality to the days that have followed, the nature of our interaction meant that I grieved the loss of a mother for nearly two decades. It’s a sort of faint heartache right now.

My immediate thought was to head back to Los Angeles that day, but my father asked for time alone—nearly two weeks—so I’ll be heading out after lessons this upcoming Saturday. I’m driving because I have no idea how long I’ll be out there (3 days? 30 days?) and I need my cello and don’t fancy the drama that flying with it entails.

My route, I believe, will be the northernmost of the options. On the way back, I may try and teach some in person lessons or workshops.

I haven’t done a long solo road trip like this since 2009, when I was storming across the country a few times a year to do teaching tours. I once drove from LA to OKC in a single 20-hour haul, but I think my spine would be pulverized if I tried to do anything that gnarly. I’ll just listen to my body and take lots of breaks to stretch.

This trip comes at the worst possible time for me— you are already familiar with my mountain of medical debt, most of it on credit cards hovering around 30% interest *eye twitch*. But then add to that the immense expense the house continues to burden us with (yes, we are looking at selling when I return), about 19k in Tamarack Arts debt, the great summer student drop off, and a sudden four digit Subaru bill, and what you get is…

a blog post where I’m asking for help, if you can swing it. I’m going to have to stop at a few motels and buy lots of gas both ways, and if I could defray those costs with an extra few hundred bucks, it would be a huge relief. If you’d like some lessons or a coaching session in exchange, I would be delighted! It’s literally my favorite thing.

Price Options

• starting at $10.00

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$

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This form lets you choose the amount you’d like to pay- the minimum is $10, as lower figures tend to attract bots. There is so much need in the world right now; don’t give it a second thought if another cause feels more pressing right now. It probably is, and I love you for your tender heart. ♥️

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

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]]> https://emilywright.net/being/unexpected-road-trip/feed/ 21 8432 https://emilywright.net/listen-up/july-2025-playlist/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=july-2025-playlist https://emilywright.net/listen-up/july-2025-playlist/#respond Tue, 01 Jul 2025 06:33:00 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8423 Sending peace and calm to anyone who needs it. Enjoy this serenity inducing playlist, dear friends.

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]]> Sending peace and calm to anyone who needs it. Enjoy this serenity inducing playlist, dear friends.

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]]> https://emilywright.net/listen-up/july-2025-playlist/feed/ 0 8423 https://emilywright.net/on-the-docket/open-call-for-requests/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=open-call-for-requests https://emilywright.net/on-the-docket/open-call-for-requests/#comments Mon, 23 Jun 2025 18:27:32 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8412 “Don’t mistake yourself for your audience”. Just want to vote? Head to the bottom of the post! ⤵️ I know from too much experience that what people need is not always what they want: Tamarack folded in part due to this. Just because many string players have a shaky grasp of rhythm (for instance) doesn’t […]

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]]> “Don’t mistake yourself for your audience”.

Just want to vote? Head to the bottom of the post! ⤵️

I know from too much experience that what people need is not always what they want: Tamarack folded in part due to this. Just because many string players have a shaky grasp of rhythm (for instance) doesn’t mean they want to spend time learning it. That was the real chink in the armor of my vision: if folks saw the actual value of these ideas—rhythm, form and analysis, ear training, meticulous practice—they would be pursuing them already. My error was taking people at their word! When someone posts on FB “I’d do anything to just make this sound like music”, they mean they’d like to keep doing exactly what they’re doing, possibly less, and magically experience success. I was mistaking myself for my audience. Because I would, and have, done literally everything available to me to progress on the cello. An incomplete list looks like this, and I am by no means extraordinary in comparison to other pro string musicians (I bet I’m average except for the injury stuff):

• 16 consecutive years of cello instruction with excellent teachers
• 20 years of other (piano, theory etc) musical instruction
• the teaching helps a bunch, 29 years of it.
• lots of practice time
• frequent attendance of live performances
• near constant listening to all kinds of music
• physical therapy
• Alexander Technique and Pilates
• sitting in on others’ private lessons
• multiple surgeries and medical interventions
• academic study
• saying no to some activities that would cost me time with the cello
• extracurricular orchestras
• summer camps and institutes
• leaning on intrinsic motivation
• master classes
• apprenticeships
• a willingness to change body and mind
• curiosity and openness during lessons
• CBT and talk therapy to address issues impacting my playing
• meditation
• asking for help when I need it
• operating under the assumption that I can still improve
• continually learning new repertoire, revisiting old stuff

I have not had the same discipline and drive with the guitar and bass, for instance. And I suck at guitar and bass. I sympathize with the people looking for that magic bullet more than you’d think!

So I want to make sure that I’m putting out stuff you’ll actually use. Let me know what that looks like below! You don’t have to do everything on the list to improve, but the more items you incorporate, the more expansive your handle on the instrument will feel.

What would you like me to address on the blog, YouTube, and the podcast?Please be sure to leave a comment with specifics!

specific techniques: sautillé, ricochet, thumb position, shiftingdeep dive on a single piecestudio classdissolving tensionpractice strategiesother (see comment)

Submit my response

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]]> https://emilywright.net/on-the-docket/open-call-for-requests/feed/ 4 8412 https://emilywright.net/listen-up/new-podcast-loud-and-wrong-with-tamarack-arts-fave-rachel-gawell-burns/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=new-podcast-loud-and-wrong-with-tamarack-arts-fave-rachel-gawell-burns https://emilywright.net/listen-up/new-podcast-loud-and-wrong-with-tamarack-arts-fave-rachel-gawell-burns/#respond Sat, 21 Jun 2025 02:17:26 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8405 One of the best things about having a podcast is being able to share my beloved friends and colleagues with the rest of the world. I can’t say that my life has been all smooth sailing, but the number of truly phenomenal human beings I have accumulated as chosen family in the last 30 years […]

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]]> One of the best things about having a podcast is being able to share my beloved friends and colleagues with the rest of the world. I can’t say that my life has been all smooth sailing, but the number of truly phenomenal human beings I have accumulated as chosen family in the last 30 years is improbable. Rachel is one of those people, and if you took lessons or one of her courses at Tamarack, you know why. I hope you’ll enjoy this episode: we talk about all kinds of stuff, including teaching, learning, her path on the cello and eventually becoming a professional doubler on guitar, her entry into Broadway, including her first all-guitar gig for the hit musical SIX. With a CV as robust as hers, she’d have every right to be aloof and imperious, but you know that’s not how we roll in this house. Kindred spirits* only, thank you. ☺️

*yes, this is an Anne of Green Gables reference. PEI and wide brimmed hats forever!

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]]> https://emilywright.net/listen-up/new-podcast-loud-and-wrong-with-tamarack-arts-fave-rachel-gawell-burns/feed/ 0 8405 https://emilywright.net/teaching-and-learning/summer-school-part-1/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=summer-school-part-1 https://emilywright.net/teaching-and-learning/summer-school-part-1/#respond Sat, 14 Jun 2025 22:36:15 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8373 Don’t wanna read the whole post? Scroll to the end for the course description and details! Many of you know I stream my practice semi-regularly. Why? I suppose I’m trying to demystify the process a bit and build on one of the more novel (as it has been described to me*) aspects of my professional […]

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Don’t wanna read the whole post? Scroll to the end for the course description and details!

Many of you know I stream my practice semi-regularly. Why? I suppose I’m trying to demystify the process a bit and build on one of the more novel (as it has been described to me*) aspects of my professional profile: being vulnerable in public.

It’s important, especially in our increasingly on-display social media ecosystem, to push back against the way it makes us feel. Every aspect of social media deserves the same assumed skepticism we have come to treat what we see on television with. So much is staged, edited, manipulated, or chosen to represent the average when really it was a single exceptional moment captured after lots of attempts. You can walk away from an hour on Instagram or YouTube feeling pretty hopeless.

There’s also a weird inverse but equally unproductive phenomenon where folks post really rough sounding stuff (which is fine, in an of itself) and folks come in with over-the-top reassurance, compliments, and outright lies. The reason I think this is unproductive is that it attaches too much significance to what practice really is and what “good” practice looks and sounds like. Practice is work. A task we must return to over and over again with the express purpose of encountering stuff we are not good at. If you’re being genuine in your practice, it should sound, if not rough, slow. But also, a lot of the time…rough. 😉 It’s not something you should go looking for praise for. Practice is ordinary, and not good or bad. It’s research. Would you expect a scientist to look up from her petri dish and expect a high five when the cultures grew? Or when they didn’t? Or when she put her lab goggles on correctly?

Hear me when I say this: my worst, least productive practice sounded amazing. I was also playing with tension, fear, running from things I didn’t like about myself and my playing, often times in pain. When I started being more focused and disciplined in my practice, it was a major reorganization. What I really needed was to get the mechanics absolutely clean, soft, and confident before trying to make music. And because I had spent my entire development and a year or two of my pro career not really practicing properly, it was something of a shocking transition. But all these years later, I can state with absolute confidence that the more you’re able to tease apart the realms of practice and performance and treat them differently, the more robust both will become.

The idea for this class came out of questions I kept being asked during and after other practice streams; I realized I was focusing on one part of the process at the expense of another. So this class is all about learning how to recognize and parse the adversity a piece presents.

Summer School, part 1: learning a piece from scratch

When: Sunday, June 29. 5pm Eastern time. Expected duration: 80 minutes

Where: Zoom

What: an open practice session where I show you the way I approach learning a piece I have never played and don’t know how it sounds. My previous practice streams have focused on spot work and general technical housekeeping, but the first few hours spent with a piece are where you set yourself up for success. Questions are welcome and often enhance the quality of the lesson! A recording will be made available afterward for people who cannot attend at the time or would like to re-watch.

How much: $25, whether attended live or viewed via recording later. A Zoom link will be provided a day or two before the event.

Purchase Class $25

*it has also been described as terrible, cringe, unnecessary, silly, pitiful, and one guy even sent a death threat and told me to quit. The reason I am including this stuff is twofold. I’ll admit that it still bothers me. I’m not triggered to some huge extent, but it just makes me angry that someone could have been doing a beach clean up, or softly patting a cat, or practicing their own instrument, but they went and took the time to watch me, misunderstand, and write, often at length, to tell me about why I am garbage. What a waste of everyone’s time, putting bad energy into the world. So sometimes I just feel better saying it out loud, maybe sharing helps a little? But the better reason to share this is because these awful things embody exactly the type of cruelty our own brains come up with when we are dissatisfied with our playing. And it is just as inaccurate and unhelpful as when some troll decided I should quit or die because for a sloppy movement of Dvořák. Be dissatisfied if you must. High standards are part of what we do. But don’t do a troll’s work for them, and don’t mistake punishing yourself for accountability. Practice is about facts. Focus on them.

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]]> https://emilywright.net/teaching-and-learning/summer-school-part-1/feed/ 0 8373 https://emilywright.net/rot-or-not/rot-or-not-opstal-sixpence-white-blend/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=rot-or-not-opstal-sixpence-white-blend https://emilywright.net/rot-or-not/rot-or-not-opstal-sixpence-white-blend/#respond Mon, 02 Jun 2025 22:45:47 +0000 https://emilywright.net/?p=8361 Welcome to another installment of RoN! This was a surprising, high acid wine that I would buy again…if my other budget buys weren’t in stock. Making it a little unexpected is the combination of SauvBlanc and Semillon grapes combined with the terroir of South Africa. I am not a fan of most S. African wines, […]

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Welcome to another installment of RoN! This was a surprising, high acid wine that I would buy again…if my other budget buys weren’t in stock. Making it a little unexpected is the combination of SauvBlanc and Semillon grapes combined with the terroir of South Africa. I am not a fan of most S. African wines, and I have yet to experience a red from there that I can even tolerate: they tend to have a smoky profile, and the immense distance the wines have to travel can’t help the quality of the examples we get up here in the northern hemisphere. But this wine is workable, if a little crass in its presentation. Upon reflection, this may be a common critique of someone you know. Someone writing this RIGHT NOW OMG 🙋🏼‍♀️

Price: $12

Score out of 5: 🎻🎻🎻 not terrible, definitely better than “house white” but really not something I would seek out on its own. The one caveat is if you’re setting up a meal that is over the top savory or unctuous, this could really cut through the heaviness. So, for instance, one of the pairings they taught us in wine school was champagne with nachos or other creamy spicy food. I could see this wine being great contrast to a korma.

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]]> https://emilywright.net/rot-or-not/rot-or-not-opstal-sixpence-white-blend/feed/ 0 8361