Opus One

Chapter 11: Andante

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Irina had just set the piano bench to the right height when Richard came into the studio.  Three minutes early, she was pleased to note.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning.  How is your first week?” Irina asked him as she settled into her chair near the piano, while Richard unpacked his books.

“Busy, but so far so good.”

“Good, good.”

“What do you want me to start with?”

“Play the Liszt.”

Richard sat and reached for the bench knobs out of habit, but found he didn’t need to adjust them.

After a brief stretch, he played.  Irina let him play the piece for a while.  His playing was not as improved as she would have liked, but it wasn’t uncommon for there to be an adjustment period during the first few weeks, particularly for first years. 

After she stopped him, she asked what else he was working on.

“Beethoven, Opus 109,” he offered, somewhat eagerly.  “I started learning it on my own this summer.  I’m still working on it, though.”

Irina smiled.  We are always working on everything, Richard.

“Play me what you have learned,” she said.

Richard started with the third movement.  Irina started making a mental list of the things he needed to work on in the piece.  While the teacher inside her kept a critical ear on the playing, her mind drifted off slightly.  As he played through the first variation, she got increasingly excited about working with Richard this year.  He was inherently musical.  As with most young pianists she encountered, he didn’t posses the subtle technique to let that musicality shine most of the time.  Instead, prodigies like him were usually encouraged along the more physical track, improving finger work by use of exercises and scales, and developing their prowess in a somewhat superficial way. 

It wasn’t that virtuosic technique was useless; on the contrary, it was vital to being able to transmit one’s feelings through the instrument.  And to be fair, Richard was perhaps eighteen; how many people his age had the emotional backdrop to play some of these pieces with deep feeling?  It remained to be seen if Richard really did, but Irina was a good judge of talent, now.

She herself was one of the few who really did have the fire at that age, and even younger.  The reasons made her shudder, though.  A difficult childhood was not a fair price to pay for greatness.  Still, the past is passed.

As Richard entered the third variation, the notes brought Irina back to the present.  She sat forward in her chair.  Seemingly in answer to her question, Richard opened a little window into his emotions in that variation.  Irina smiled ever so slightly, hearing him intermingle the melodies so passionately.  He did understand this section, even if he still hadn’t mastered it yet. 

Irina sat back, letting out a long, but silent breath.  For having learned the piece on his own, he had done well.  She vaguely wondered where Richard’s passions came from, but it didn’t matter.  The best music transcended specifics, and captured the core emotion.  Richard had done just that, for a few minutes.

When the final notes of the movement rang out, Irina stood and motioned for Richard to stand.  For now, she would start where he was comfortable, with discussions of technique.  But technique to bring out the passion even more delicately, more refined, and not technique to dazzle and show off.

As Richard stood aside, Irina sat, and began to show him some of the things he needed to learn. 

“The phrasing on the melody could be better brought out by this fingering,” she demonstrated.

Richard notated in his score the fingerings she suggested.

“Try it,” Irina said, standing again.

Richard played the passage, changing his fingering to Irina’s suggestion.  After some attempts, he played it smoothly.

Now play it with passion, Irina thought.  “Again,” she said.

Richard played it again, more musically. 

It was hard to rewind passion and repeatedly play it in little snippets, she knew.  But she could hear the right feeling in Richard’s playing.  Rather than have him continue, she moved to the next section she wanted to comment on. 

It was tempting to try and teach Richard everything at once, to rip away the mental clothing he wore, and show him how to let go.

But he wasn’t ready for that.  Not in his second lesson.

One step at a time.

“How was your lesson?” Sandra asked.  She and Richard were sitting in the corner of Dobra’s class, waiting for him to arrive.

“I think it was good,” Richard said.  “She’s hard to read.  She doesn’t really comment on what I’ve done, but instead shows me where to go next.”

“Better to move forward than look back,” Sandra said.

“I guess.  How about your lesson?”

“Heh.  It’s going to be a long year.”

“Why?”

“I have a lot to learn.  Bridget wants to rework my breathing technique from the ground up.  Like starting over in some ways.”

“Wow.  Is that frustrating?”

“Frustrating?  No, it’s great.  That’s why I came here: to learn these things from her.”

“Cool.  Although if Ms. T. wanted to change my technique significantly, I’d probably have a hard time with it.”

Sandra shrugged.  “This will make me a better singer,” she said simply.

Dr. Dobra strode into the class, and everyone became quiet. 

“Today we begin the study of intervals,” he announced.  “Richard, how do we define an interval?”

Richard snapped out of his stare and looked back into Dobra’s eyes.  “Um, how far apart two notes are?”

“Yes.  In essence, yes.”  As fast as Dobra’s penetrating stare had landed on Richard, it left and wandered the class again.  His eyes feel like a searchlight when they land on you, Richard thought, relieved he had scored an easy question.  There had been some uncomfortable moments for some students in the first class a couple of days before.  Dobra didn’t mind waiting a long time for a student to try and sing a passage, or answer a question.

By Dobra’s own admission, the first class had been a preview of things to come, and he hadn’t really expected anyone to do those things perfectly.  If they could do them, they should be in the next level class.

But that didn’t lessen the discomfort of the pregnant silence a student felt as he or she bored holes into the sight singing example in their book.

Dobra was as methodical a teacher as Richard had ever seen.  Despite the vague sense of apprehension he felt sitting in the corner, knowing that at any moment he could be called on, he actually liked Dobra’s method.  In the first ten minutes of the discussion of intervals (a subject Richard thought was simple enough to understand), Dobra had already made some connections Richard had never even considered. 

Not that they mattered; Richard couldn’t see how that would help his playing.  But it was interesting nonetheless.

A guy walked into the classroom about ten minutes into the period.  Richard recognized him as the one who was late the first class period as well.

“Mr. Deerfield.  You are late,” Dr. Dobra said evenly.

“Sorry.”

“This is the last time I will tolerate lateness.  That goes for everyone in the class.  Mr. Deerfield just used your last free pass.”

“He should switch to Emily’s class,” Richard whispered to Sandra.

“Ten bucks says he’s not in this class by the end of the semester,” she whispered back.

“I think you’re right.”

Dr. Dobra had returned to talking about the perfect fifth, and Richard paid attention again.  Everyone paid attention.  Doing otherwise was asking for trouble.

“Walking to this English class is going to get old pretty quick,” Richard said. 

“Especially if Dobra keeps running over time,” Sandra agreed.

“Even if he doesn’t, it’s a fast walk just to get to English right on time.  Today I was five minutes late.”

“Good thing your English teacher isn’t like Dobra about lateness.”

“No, but it’s almost as bad having to walk into a classroom of fifty people and having everyone turn to look at you.”

The phone rang.  Emily picked it up before Richard could reach for it.

“Wexford Conservatory, can I help you?”

There was a pause, and then Emily picked up the concert guide lying on the desk.  She passed along a start time for Thursday’s faculty recital, and then hung the phone up.  In the meantime, Sandra buzzed in a trombone player.

“You know, I think I’m going to go practice,” Richard said.  “I’m not really needed here.”

“We’re just trying to help,” Sandra pouted.

“Ooh, look, it’s Joel!” Emily said, pointing to the monitor.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, he plays French horn too.”

Bzzzt.  Emily pressed the button, but just as Joel reached for the handle, Emily let go.  Richard and Sandra watched the monitor as Joel pulled on the door in vain, and then reached for the buzzer again.

“You need to hold it until they open the door,” Richard explained.

Emily gave just him an arch look.

Again Emily teased Joel with the door.  Each time he put his hand on the door, Emily let go.  Finally Joel looked at the camera and desperately waved a hand.  Richard could almost hear him saying “What the hell?”

“Emily, you’re going to get me in trouble!” Richard said, trying to reach for the button.  A struggle ensued, with Emily trying to keep Richard from letting Joel in.

“How old are you two?” Sandra asked, although she was clearly amused.

Richard finally managed to press the button, and Joel pulled the door in time.

“Thanks a lot!” Joel called from down the hallway.  The sarcasm in his voice was not lost in the distance.

“You’re welcome!” Emily called back.

In the monitor, Joel paused on his way to the stairs, and then turned to come down the hallway.

“Great, now you pissed him off,” Richard said.

“Nah, Joel’s cool.  He’ll think it was funny.”

Joel came into view shortly after.  When he saw Emily sitting behind the front desk, he rolled his eyes.

“I should have known...” he said.  “Three people working the front desk, and you can’t figure out how to let someone in?”

“Hey, this one was all Emily,” Richard protested.

“Figures,” Joel said.

Introductions went around, and then Joel set his horn down and leaned against the desk.

“I should report you to Mort,” Joel said jokingly to Emily.

“Go ahead,” Emily said dismissively.  “I don’t really even work here.”

“We’re just giving Richard a hand,” Sandra added. 

Joel laughed.  “Watch out with Emily,” he said to Richard and Sandra, “she’ll get you in trouble every time.”

“Hey!  When have I ever gotten you in trouble?”

“Are you serious?” Joel said.  “Well, how about when you made me sneak into that room at EMF, for one.”

“Made you?  Whatever!”

“I still never found out who that guy was,” Joel said cryptically. 

Emily laughed.  “Me neither.”

“And how about the time we went up into the ceiling space over the hall, and then the janitor found us?”

“Oh, forgot about that one,” Emily said.

“Need I go on?” Joel asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Sandra got the distinct impression that Joel and Emily had had some sort of relationship in the past.  She could also tell from the look in Emily’s eyes that she didn’t hate her ex-boyfriends as much as she pretended to.

“Um, no, that’s probably enough,” Emily said, eyeing Richard and Sandra as if suddenly remembering they were there.

“Nice meeting you all,” Joel said, hefting his horn case.

“Bye,” they answered.

Joel slipped away down the stairs.

Sandra was eyeing Emily with a grin.

“What?” Emily said.

“Old boyfriend?” Sandra asked.

“Um, maybe.”

“Pfft, ‘maybe’ my ass.”

“I went out with him a few years ago at Eastern Music Festival.”

“Seems nice enough,” Richard said.

Emily shrugged.

“Speaking of practicing, I need to get to it,” Sandra sighed.

“Yeah me too.  Sorry Richard, but all these classes get in the way of practicing during the day.”

“Tell me about it.  I’ve already forgotten half of what Ms. T. said this morning.  I didn’t get to practice today, with that harmony assignment and an English reading.  I’m probably going to try and practice after I’m done here, until the building closes.”

“Will you come say goodnight after you’re done?”

“Of course,” Richard said.

The girls smiled suggestively as they walked off.  Richard’s mood sank as he looked at his watch.

Richard had forgotten all about Dave and the recording sessions until Dave came through the lobby carrying some tapes on his way up to the control room.

“Richard!  How’s it going, man?”

“Good.  How’s the recording?”

“It went well the last couple of nights.  We’re back at it tonight, if you want to stop by again.  You’re welcome to do so.”

“Thanks.  Things are pretty busy, though,” Richard said.

“Well, you know where it is,” Dave said, as he headed up the stairs.

The girls stopped by the front desk again when they had finished practicing.

“I’m going to check out this recording session again tonight, so I might be a little late coming to the room,” Richard said.

“How late?  The building closes at midnight.”

“I know, but apparently they start at midnight.  I’ll probably just stay for a while and see what they’re doing.”

“We’ll put out a note if we went to bed,” Sandra said.

“Not every night can be a party,” Emily said.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s cool.  If I could go watch a recording session, I’d do that too.”

“You want me to see if you two can watch too?” Richard asked.  He didn’t think that it would be appropriate to ask Dave if he could start inviting friends, but he hadn’t thought of that until he had already offered to ask.  Thankfully the girls declined.

“No, that’s probably not cool,” Emily said.

“We’ll at least catch some breakfast at eight,” Sandra said.

“Yeah, about that...” Emily said.

“Hey, if I can get up at eight, so can you two!” Sandra said.  “It’s not like I’m asking on Monday-Wednesday-Fridays at seven!”

“True,” Emily conceded. “Because that will never happen…”

“All right, see you later, Richard.  Maybe,” Sandra said.

The girls blew him a kiss and then headed off down the hallway.  Richard waited expectantly for them to show up in the video monitor.

A minute later, they had still not shown up.  Richard frowned and walked over to peer down the hallway.  No sign of the girls.  Richard was fairly sure they couldn’t escape the monitor’s field of view, so he walked down the hall to see where they would have gone.

As he passed the dark coatroom, he heard a giggle.  Richard turned and saw Emily and Sandra behind the counter, watching him with two big smiles.  Before he could speak, Emily pulled him through the gap in the counter top and they were all over him.

Only the insistent sound of someone knocking on the glass doors down the hall brought Richard to his senses.

Wordlessly, he pulled away from the girls, shook his head with a smile, and stepped out into the hall.  Someone was waving at the back doors.

“It’s Jer,” he said quietly.  “I’m going to go let him in, and then I need to get back to work!”

The girls just giggled.

Richard let Jer in manually at the back door.

“Dude, slacking on the job!”

“Nah, I was taking a piss.”

“In the coatroom?”

“No, I was just checking for... um, a pencil.  Working on theory tonight.”

“I have one in the studio, if you want me to grab it,” Jer offered.

“Um, sure,” Richard said, glad he had covered it.

Jer started walking down the hallway, instead of going downstairs to the practice rooms.

“Where are you going?” Richard asked, hurrying to catch up with him.  His nerves jumped slightly.

“Um, to get my bass from the bass studio?”

Richard remembered the bass studio was down past the front desk.  He just hoped the girls were hidden.  He knew Jer wouldn’t report him or anything, but Richard didn’t want to get teased if Jer should see them.

All was dark and quiet as they went past the coatroom.  Jer paid it no notice, and the girls were nowhere to be seen.

“Yo, I’ll be right back with that pencil,” Jer said, as he made the turn down the hallway leading to the bass studio.

Richard sat at his desk again, heart recovering.  Joel was right:  Emily was a trouble maker.  Or maybe it was Sandra.  Maybe both.

He saw movement in the monitor, and it was the girls waving to him on their way out.

Jer came to the desk on his way out a few minutes later, rolling his bass along, and carrying the promised pencil. 

“Here.  Oh, by the way, your dad called tonight.”

“Shit, I forgot to call him yesterday, again.”

Jer shrugged, and then grinned.  “See you later,” he said.  As he reached the hallway, he turned back.  “Oh, is the coatroom clear?”

“Clear?” Richard said, not understanding.

“If you and Sandra and Emily are done, maybe Jenna and I can use it.”

Before Richard could protest, Jer just sniggered and went down the hall.  Richard considered yelling something after him, but everything that came to mind didn’t seem appropriate to be yelling through the halls of the conservatory.

When he turned back to the desk, Richard threw his head back and groaned.  Sitting right in plain sight was a coffee mug.  It was full of sharpened, bright yellow pencils.

Dave was just coming out of the control room when Richard approached.

“Hey, man, are you going to watch for a bit?”

“Sure, if that’s cool.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Dave said.  “I just need to make a small change to the microphones.  Jarrett is in there; go in and grab a seat.”

Jarrett was welcoming when he saw Richard again.  Through the window, Dave was moving the stands a little, while Maria warmed up.  The room was very quiet, since Dave had presumably turned the volume down while he made adjustments.

Richard promised he would stay fifteen... no, twenty minutes, and then go.  Richard was tired from the hour of practice he had just gotten in, not to mention the long day.  And he still wanted to see the girls if he could.

Dave came back to the room, and turned the volume up as he sat in his chair.  Again Richard felt surrounded by the sound in the hall, and it was like he had been transported to the stage.

There was something very comfortable about hanging out in the control room.  The dim halogen lighting was a sharp contrast to the three hours of fluorescent hell he had to endure in the lobby during front desk duty, and the room was alive with sound, even when Maria was not playing.  It was like the microphones could pick up the feeling of anticipation in the air.

Maria stopped warming up and stood to stretch.  When Dave pulled back from the mixing board and grinned at Richard, Richard ventured a question. 

“Do you take down the microphones every night?”

“Yes, other people have to use the hall during the day,” Dave said.

“How do you get everything to sound the same from day to day?”

“We spike the positions, and measure everything.”

“Why did you have to adjust the microphones, then, if you already had them set like the other night?  Won’t that change the sound?”

Dave nodded appreciatively.  “Yes.  When we start out with the settings from the previous night, we are close.  But the hall changes from day to day.  The piano, too.  It’s more humid tonight than last night.  We use our ears: we compare the sound from last night to tonight by playing yesterday’s tapes, and then make adjustments, if needed.”

“Sounds complicated.”

Dave shrugged. 

“No more than any other art form,” Jarrett said.

Maria sat again, and indicated she was ready.

There was some activity as Dave started tapes and notated timings, and then he gave Maria the go signal.  Jarrett quietly spoke into a table microphone he had next to the score: “Take 44.”

Maria started, and played a complete take of a piece.  It ran about twelve minutes.

When she finished, Jarrett spoke to Maria through his microphone.

“Wonderful take, Maria, brilliant.  Come take a listen.”

Richard considered leaving, but the recording process was fascinating.  Half-hour, he thought.

Richard had long given up hope of seeing the girls.  It was after one-thirty in the morning, and Richard still didn’t want to leave.  Maria had just finished another take to cover a wrong note.  Dave had explained that after the session was finished, they would load all the recorded takes into a computer, and then splice together the best takes of each section.  In this way they could remove any mistakes or glitches.  So a complete, perfect run through was unnecessary these days.

Jarrett invited Maria to listen to the corrected take.

“So you do have to have every part recorded correctly?” Richard asked.

“Yes,” Jarrett agreed.  “That’s my job.  I keep track of the music, and notate any mistakes or noises.  Like if a siren goes by outside, we can’t use that take either.  So Maria played this note here wrong in the run through, so I put an ‘X’ and ‘58’ so I know that take 58 is no good there. So now she just played it correctly.  We’ll probably insert these nine bars here from the last take, into the run through.”

“But she messed up a bass note there,” Richard said.

Jarrett shrugged.  “The last take will cover it.”

“I mean she messed up a bass note in that last take.”

Jarrett frowned and turned to the score.  “Where?” 

Richard pointed to the measure.  He was pretty sure when he heard her play the passage, she had played something different.  That measure had captured his attention in the run through, and sounded different in the last take.

Now he felt somewhat foolish for having opened his mouth.  What if he was wrong?  And who was he to be telling Jarrett?

“Dave, can you play that take again?”

Dave cued up the last take and played it.  Richard followed the score over Jarrett’s shoulder and watched as the measure approached.

The measure went by and Jarrett looked up at Richard, nodding slowly.

“Good ear, Richard, good ear,” Jarrett said, sticking out his lower lip.  “Do you know this piece?”

“No, I just happened to remember that little bit of the piece and it sounded different.”

“Heh, heh.  Do you want to take my place for the rest of the week?” Jarrett said amiably.

Dave laughed.  “Fire the producer,” he said dramatically with a grin.

Richard sat in his chair, feeling a little embarrassed at having been correct after all.

“I think we can still splice around that, but we’ll see what Maria says,” Jarrett said.

Dave turned to Richard.   “How would you like to work for me?”

“What?”

“I always hire two or three new students each year to work in the recording service.  It’s better than sitting at the front desk, I think.”

“Um, I... sure, but how does that work?”

“I’ll get you transferred over, simple as that.”

“What about the front desk job?”

“Richard, anyone can work the front desk.  Not everyone has a good ear,” Jarrett said. 

“Plus, the pay rate is a little better than what you will get at the front desk,” Dave added.

Richard nodded thoughtfully as Maria knocked.

“Let’s talk tomorrow.  Come by my office during the afternoon,” Dave said, as he went to open the door.

Richard couldn’t help but feel ten feet tall.

When Richard pulled up to the girls’ door at a quarter to three, he could barely focus on the note taped to the door.

“Richard, we went to bed.  Sorry you missed the fun!  S&E...  PS, eight am in the lobby for breakfast.  Don’t be late.”

Eight a.m.  That meant getting up at seven thirty.  Richard looked at his watch as he trudged up the stairs to his room.  How much sleep will I get?  He was having trouble figuring out what two forty-five minus seven thirty was, or was it the other way around?  And what fun had he missed?

He only vaguely remembered getting into bed.

Forward to Chapter 12

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