On a High Note: Music at Dollar

Before I graduated from Culver, Major Browne-- my orchestra teacher, neighbor, and quite possibly the person I admire most in the world-- advised me never to stop playing music, since it is a solace in good times and bad. After eight years in the Culver orchestra and about 16 years of musical schooling as a whole, his advice seemed reasonable to me-- after all, my attempts to quit music before have obviously been far from successful. It seemed only natural to continue at least some sort of musical activity after so much time and effort, even if it is frustrating at times. So, I took my mentor's instruction and decided to continue my lifetime hobby, just a thousand miles away from where I practice it usually.

To illustrate my activities and accomplishments in the music world at Dollar so far, I have written an open letter to Major Browne himself in the hopes that you readers will realize the immense positive influence he has held in my life.

Dear Major Browne,

Firstly, I want to thank you specifically for all the support and kindness you have shown, from just saying hi on the street to guiding me through my Honors in Music project last year. We've both "graduated" from Culver now, but your influence-- not only with myself, but many others as well-- will live on for years to come. I do miss orchestra, as I am sure you do as well, and I still loyally play those daily warm-ups before every practice. What really made it special, though, was your patience with me through it all, framing music as a solace instead of a chore (as how many band cadets saw it, I'm sure). It's why we were all so close, why we had so many inside jokes (parfaits? Everybody loves parfaits!), why we grew from basically an ensemble to dozens of members. You made more of an impact than you will ever know. And Mrs. Browne did, as well: "Hallelujah" for her and her fantastic brownie-making skills.

I admit it was hard at first to find the motivation to pick up music again after my arrival here. You know yourself how attached one can be to their own instruments: the ones here were unfamiliar, not to mention a whole quarter larger than the one I usually play. It's thanks to you, though, that I persevered through my musical rut. I remember your stories about your own personal experiences from quitting music, and feeling like there was something missing. And there was, after a while. So, after some talk with the very kind musical staff here, the school actually bought me my own 3/4 cello to use and keep in the House. From that point on, I have been playing consistently and happily at the school. While I am taking the year off from lessons, you would be proud of the progress I am still making by simply and purely playing.

The orchestra here is larger than the one you conducted at Culver, although it does lack the small community feel of the orchestra we both know so well. This may be because we only meet once a week on Mondays, and with the band too. The pieces we play are, to put it colloquially, awesome-- although nothing beats our own rendition of 1812 with cannons and chapel bells and the whole shebang. We are, however, playing quite a few sections of the Carmina Burana (yes, including O Fortuna), Malcom Arnold's Four Scottish Dances, and Milhaud's Brasileira from Scaramouche. Most of the pieces we are preparing now will be performed at Usher Hall in Edinburgh at Christmas, which will definitely be a high point for my year, and I believe that there will also be a formal Easter concert.

The Usher Hall Concert in 2015.

But I also decided to branch out from my usual musical activities, as well. As you know, orchestra and choir both met in the notoriously artsy B Block at the Academies, so I couldn't sing as much as I wanted to. You will be happy to know that I enjoy it as much as I do the cello. Chamber Choir meets every Wednesday and Thursday, and Mixed Voice Choir (an open choir) is on Wednesday as well. We have already had one performance-- an open rehearsal for an information dinner-- that went quite well. Sure enough, what you taught us in orchestra has also applied here: for example, I always think of your suggestion to "listen across" in order to better blend in to the voices. And, of course, subdividing always helps. It's like the cure-all for musical problems.

You would be amused at the rhythmic nicknames in Britain, as well: there are no half notes, quarter notes, or sixteenth notes. Instead, there are minims, crotchets, and quavers, respectfully. And, get this-- a 256th note would be called a demisemihemidemisemiquaver. Not that anyone would play that, of course, but try saying it five times fast anyway.

Otherwise, music is completely the same as it was in the States, just like how it would be anywhere else in the world. It really is the common language of the universe, a bond that ties humanity together. You couldn't have been more correct in saying that music will always be there, because it is. Thank you for showing me that.

Sincerely,

Arielle Pare