SassyBlonde

I know, I know, it sounds geeky, but I don't think most of you can fully comprehend the amount of time and heartache and thought I've spent waiting for this day to come. (The Muse, the Frankenberrys, Heidelah, Dan P, Sister Sassy-- you guys can, even if only because you've all experienced my pining firsthand. And WomynRev, of course, who has just recently had a milestone of her own-- congrats!)

I've always been serious about playing music-- I've known since I was a little squint that it's what I wanted to do, but it's a long hard row to hoe, both in terms of intestinal fortitude and financial planning. I've plodded patiently along, swallowing my impractical green gills every time I saw a vision of what I longed for, making more practical and practicable and safe decisions, and telling myself that someday I'd make it happen. It's a lot more easy to lay out funds for something that costs a couple of months' rent than it is to plan for something more along the financial worth of a good car, both in terms of rationalization and funding. At a certain point, though, it's time to simply take the jump.

The first time I played a real bass clarinet was when I was in college, and ironically for a group much like the not-so-new project I've been working on for the past couple of years. I can remember taking it out of its case and putting it together and being completely unprepared for the wondrous sound I could make on it. It brought to mind whale song and gospel and chocolate and steel. It was all too brief and then I moved on, but I never forgot. A few years later I got my first bass clarinet from a friend at school who was upgrading much as I'm doing now-- an imperfect specimen which needed a lot of love and TLC, and to this day always seems to need a little more than I can give it to get by.

Get by I, and it, did, playing operas and symphonies and shows, but it was always a little uncomfortable, like a marriage of convenience or a pair of shoes just slightly too small. Every time I would take it out of its case it was with mistrust, never quite knowing what lengths I was going to have to go to to match it's mercurial irascible temperament and wrench it into submission. After a while that fear gets old, and I began to have a vague grudge against it that surfaced every time I pulled it out. I was cautious, I was careful, and that never pays when you're trying to be a artist. For every bold move I tried to make, that horn had a subtle block that would sent my inspiration packing back to its mothballs of safety. Finally one day a couple of months ago, I had had enough. It failed me one time too many and sent me home sighing and apologetic and embarrassed, and I began to look for a way out.

Of course, the first roadblock I came to was the money-- that kind of sum is astronomical in comparison to the yearly salary of a music teacher. Fortunately I've been a responsible human being for the last few years and some friends at the bank decided I could be trusted with a lot of zeros on a check, and suddenly the means were there. There was only one problem-- there were no instruments to be had. There are a lot of environmental consequences to the way we approach our usage of the natural resources around us, but it's becoming more evident every day that we cannot continue the levels of consumption we currently survive with. One side effect of this overconsumption is that certain things are becoming more and more scarce-- case in point being the wood that many instruments are made out of. It's becoming harder and harder to find billets of grenadilla (also known as African blackwood) large enough to make big instruments like bass clarinets that are appropriate to the task: dense, straight, and defect and crack-free. Therefore, many fewer horns are being made, and they've become harder to find. I was told by three separate retailers that I was looking at a year-long wait list, and many more told me they had no idea how long it would take.

After exhausting what I thought was the last avenue I had, I got a message from a contact who told me that he'd be getting a horn on Monday, only a couple of weeks after he'd said I would be waitlisted. Lo and behold, he had an instrument for me and had been serious about his joke of moving me up to the top of his list!! (I swear to God, that's the closest I've ever come to full-on kissing a stranger, no joke. And that's saying something.) Tuesday morning, I popped over first thing and had a look at it. D laughed as he watched, saying he'd never seen me so nervous. I was almost hesitant to touch it, like I thought it was a dream and would vanish, but when I did, oh when I did, it was better than I could have ever imagined.

Most of my interactions with new instruments are fairly clinical: is it in tune, does it resonate, what are the imperfections, can they be fixed, what is the cost. The clinical assessment took a New York minute, and I began to play in earnest. Everything I could remember, from classical to new music to show tunes. Scales, arpeggios, flute etudes. No doubts, no roadblocks, no hesitations. Finally, finally, finally, a horn that could do everything I ask of it. Papers were signed, arrangements were made, and we were off home to wait. (It had to be shipped to a friend for a couple of sneaky reasons I can't go into here that saved me a boatload of money.) D laughed at me when I couldn't finish my lunch because I was too wound up and nervous afterwards (that's also saying something, when I can't finish a white quarter from Pio Pio.)

In the end it's been much like waiting for a baby to arrive-- preparations, anxiety, hope. Now I just have to figure out what to put at the top of my To-Do list in the vacant spot-- quite literally the phrase "new bass clarinet" has been there for almost ten years. Whoop!!!!!