On my recent trip to the Boston area, I went to a shop called Flutristy, which specializes in high end flutes made by local Massachusetts flute makers, like Powell and Haynes. I correctly thought that a new head joint would improve my sound, and this proved to be the case.
I spent a lot of time, maybe two hours, in a small room with a tray full of head joints. I was helped tactfully by Erica Schiller, the vice president of the company, and I ended up with a pre-owned head joint made by Emanuel, who makes flutes and head joints in Deerfield, MA. I ended up paying a considerable amount of money to improve my tone, hardly an investment, since I'll never get a monetary return on it. But there is a return: the better I sound, the more I enjoy playing.
The people at Flutistry examined my Sankyo flute and confirmed that it was in good condition, but that the oil in the mechanism had dried up, so when I got back home, I brought the flute in to the local flute expert, Elad Zeldes, a talkative old acquaintance of mine, and a meticulous technician. I just got it back from him today. I felt the difference in the fingering immediately. So now I've invested even more in the flute, cleaning, oiling, and adjusting. I also had to have my baritone saxophone fixed while I was gone, more money to a repairman.
I would rather not add up all the money I've spent on lessons, sheet music, instruments, and instrument repair - all with almost no possible return on the investment (okay, the instruments hold their value, so not all the money is irrecoverable). Though I have occasionally been paid to play, I don't think of myself as a professional musician, not even a semi-professional one. Music simply isn't on my accounting books as an activity involving profit and loss.
I have reached an age when people are liable to spiral down into a morass of regrets, and I am not totally immune to that disease, but one thing I have never actively regretted is not becoming a professional musician.
I spent a lot of time, maybe two hours, in a small room with a tray full of head joints. I was helped tactfully by Erica Schiller, the vice president of the company, and I ended up with a pre-owned head joint made by Emanuel, who makes flutes and head joints in Deerfield, MA. I ended up paying a considerable amount of money to improve my tone, hardly an investment, since I'll never get a monetary return on it. But there is a return: the better I sound, the more I enjoy playing.
The people at Flutistry examined my Sankyo flute and confirmed that it was in good condition, but that the oil in the mechanism had dried up, so when I got back home, I brought the flute in to the local flute expert, Elad Zeldes, a talkative old acquaintance of mine, and a meticulous technician. I just got it back from him today. I felt the difference in the fingering immediately. So now I've invested even more in the flute, cleaning, oiling, and adjusting. I also had to have my baritone saxophone fixed while I was gone, more money to a repairman.
I would rather not add up all the money I've spent on lessons, sheet music, instruments, and instrument repair - all with almost no possible return on the investment (okay, the instruments hold their value, so not all the money is irrecoverable). Though I have occasionally been paid to play, I don't think of myself as a professional musician, not even a semi-professional one. Music simply isn't on my accounting books as an activity involving profit and loss.
I have reached an age when people are liable to spiral down into a morass of regrets, and I am not totally immune to that disease, but one thing I have never actively regretted is not becoming a professional musician.
No comments:
Post a Comment