Elevate

Drum roll....

 Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls, we welcome you to our show today as we bring you something truly shocking! She has been kept away from you by full-time employment, by pregnancy and child birth, by spousal deployment, and by that great force that threatens to engulf us all: LAZINESS! You thought your newsfeed was free for good of her lousy artwork. Sorry to disappoint! After three blogless years, back from the seeming dead to bring you this exclusive rant, BLOGGER BRITTANY BURNS!

If I were in charge of New York City, the pedestrian madness would stop. People would walk on the right side of the sidewalk and pass to the left. Tourists would walk in single file instead of walking four across. Times Square wouldn't exist. But if you think people's sidewalk manners are lacking, just you wait until I reveal the horror that is music conservatory students' elevator manners. Which is happening right now. So you don't have to wait for very long.

Picture with me, if you will: a harpist running from one rehearsal to another, eagerly waiting for the elevator so she can get to rehearsal with enough time to tune her humidity-stricken instrument. The elevator stops to pick her up. The doors open to reveal an elevator at maximum capacity full of  people with tiny instruments like trumpets or VOCAL CORDS. They shift uncomfortably as their deeply buried consciences whisper that they should step off. They avoid eye contact. Through similar encounters, the harpist has mastered the evil eye. She stares relentlessly, trying to burn a hole into their down-turned heads. Occasionally they will even have the gall to apologize. She stares back at them with a blank expression. The harpist is late for rehearsal. She pants out an apology about the elevator being crazy busy. Everyone nods sympathetically, but no one does anything about it.

I would think singers and wind-players in particular would welcome the chance to strengthen their lungs. When harpless, I took the stairs 95% of the time. It was good exercise and increased the likelihood that I'd run into a cute guy. So why couldn't these people, with their tiny loads (unless you count their egos), step off the stupid elevator to make room for someone who truly needed it? What do you want me to do? Carry my harp up the stairs? It might be a lighter load than hauling around your ego.

Shout out to all other players of large instruments, percussionists in particular. I know you've been there too.

The Things People Do To Me

Just Rude

People often ask me if they can pull a string on my harp.  Sometimes they just do it without asking.  Sometimes they even do it without asking while I’m playing.  Um, hello? Ever heard of personal space? Ever heard of not touching other people’s expensive personal property without permission? Ever heard of not interrupting an inspired performance? It’s just rude. 

If you enter my harp bubble, I shoot you with my angry eyes.  

  

I’ve Probably Been Posted on Social Networks Hundreds of Times

Many of my harp adventures came to pass during my central park busking days.  I often felt like the newest New York landmark, because people would flock to me to pose for pictures.  I seriously thought about posting a sign asking for a dollar per picture.  I would’ve made bank.  I’ve probably been posted on social networks hundreds of times with captions like, “What the (insert word of choice) is this thing in central park?!”

Once a foreign couple in full wedding garb passed by, toting their videographer with them.  Said videographer took a video of said couple dancing in slow motion next to me.  I definitely should have charged them for that one. 

Karaoke

Again in central park, a little boy, who informed me that his name is Barack (I found that especially memorable, as it is a rare name and is also the name of the US President), decided that I was something of a live karaoke machine.  Yeah, I was playing Disney songs (I hope I don’t get a call from a Disney lawyer for posting that), so I suppose I should have expected as much.  It was pretty cute, but also kind of annoying.  He just stood in front of me, facing me, singing his heart out.  I wouldn’t have minded so much, but I’m pretty sure it drove some people away.  When I busk I mean business. 

  

I Probably Shouldn’t Even Share the Horror That is This Story

Once while I was tuning before high school orchestra, a cellist picked up his cello to extend his end pin.  He hit the sound board of the harp with his end pin on its way back to the floor.  It was horrifying.  Thank goodness the harp was a member of the aforementioned plywood breed of harps and not my own. 

Timber!

My most recent audience member-caused performance mishap occurred at a fundraiser dinner.  I was there with the Dothan Moonlighters, a big band.  I performed several pieces with the band, as well as several solos.  In the middle of one of my solos (of course) one of the servers walked into my stand, causing my stand, and the very heavy music book that was perched upon it, to become acquainted with the reality that is gravity.  Again I can say thank goodness, because it fell away from my harp.  (Instead it hit the back of an unsuspecting patron’s chair.  Is it wrong of me to be grateful for that?)  

Dreams Part 1

My dreams have made it clear to me that music has dug its way deep, deep, deep into my subconscious.  I think a dream specialist would have a heyday diagnosing the various issues music has caused in my life.  I'll try to make some sense of them for you and I'd love to hear your interpretations as well (PG rated comments only, please).  

I’ll start with the dream I had last night.  I woke up this morning feeling utterly baffled by it.  

I have been celebrating my recent completion of school for the past few weeks.

Look, I graduated! (Does this mean I can now go by “Master Burns?”)

The fact that I am done forever is still sinking in.  Of course, there is that sneaky little line in the ceremony about graduation being subject to the completion of all degree requirements.  But that hasn’t been a concern for me.  I knew before graduation day that I had passed all of my courses and completed all other requirements to graduate.  At least I thought I did…

Last night I found myself back at Manhattan School of Music.  Graduation was to happen in a few days, but I had procrastinated one task until the very end: the “sew a giant stuffed animal” requirement (????!!!).  Sewing a giant stuffed animal was required only of students in my particular program, the Orchestral Performance program.  A violinist in the program showed me her giant stuffed bunny.  

She clearly wasn’t a professional seamstress, but it was a good piece of work.  I, on the other hand, was due to present my work in a few hours, and had nothing to show to Glenn Dicterow (concertmaster of the New York Philharmonic and Chairman of the OP Program).  I planned to pass off this beautiful bunny, which was an Easter gift from my mother, as an original piece of work.  

It wasn’t giant, but it was something.  It was very stressful, but then I woke up.  

I admit parts of this dream are nothing short of bewildering.  But this is how I interpret it: 1.  I secretly fear that instead of my diploma coming in the mail, a letter stating that I am not eligible to graduate will show up.  2. I no longer know how to live without stress in my life.  Since I have been doing an ok job of staying calm, my dreams had to make up for the shock of tranquility my body is going through.  3. I am probably too fond of stuffed animal bunnies.          

$10,000 Wedding Cake

I’ve played at some pretty fancy events.  One of my craziest gigs was a wedding at The Pierre, a 5^th Avenue hotel (circa $800/night).  It was a magazine wedding.  Legit.  Often I am asked to play for weddings months in advance, but for this one I was asked the week of (and of course all communication was with the wedding planner.  I had no contact with any member of the wedding party at any time).  I was practically an after-thought.  They already had a small orchestra lined up for the ceremony.  Want to know what my job was? I was the hallway music.  No kidding, I played outside of the ceremony while people walked in and out.  They hardly even noticed me.  It was so bizarre.  Usually people are at least a little surprised by the sight of a harp.  But hey, the wedding cake alone cost a staggering $10,000.  It was dazzling; probably ten tiers covered in sparkling silver-tipped white flowers (all edible, of course.  I really wanted to try one.  I’m sure they wouldn’t have noticed…) I’ve been googling to find a picture of something similar, but nothing even compares.  Although for your entertainment, I did find this horrifying picture of a bride-shaped wedding cake:

I guess throwing a harpist in the hallway is no biggie when you’re used to living like that.  Nothing much has changed in the past few centuries; clearly musicians are still the low-class slaves of royalty.  This happened only a few weeks after my own wedding.  My entire wedding cost less than their wedding cake.  It’s okay, self.  You had a really nice wedding too.      




Follow up:
Well, I guess my memory exaggerated the size of the cake.  Turns out my husband took a picture of it. 

So it was only six tiers.  But still.  

I Play the Giant Oven Mitt

 Question.  What does this look like to you? (Seriously, comments welcome!)

 When I was a child I thought that the back bump looked like a shark fin.  I used to run around with my case over my head, pretending to be a shark.  But now I mostly think it looks like a harp with a case on it….

 Once I was waiting in an apartment lobby with my harp, which was covered.  Someone walked by and asked if it is a picnic table.  

Really, person? 

Well you never know in this world.   Maybe there is a picnic table out there shaped like a harp.  I definitely haven’t seen one. 

The most popular comment is that it looks like a giant oven mitt.  Now that I can see.  

I guess that’s pretty cool.  I really like to bake, so I’ll go with it.  Imagine the amazing food an oven mitt that large could produce.  

Stand

Music stands are useful in a lot of ways, but no stand should be reduced to this.  Shame, MSM.  Shame on you.    

Plywood

On rare and glorious occasions I am asked to play gigs that provide a harp for me.  It is a liberating thing to show up to a rehearsal or a concert having brought nothing but my backpack.  However the harps that are provided for these things are usually.…well, they suck.  They’re kind of their own breed of harp.  I used to joke that the harp at my high school was made of plywood.  The thing resonated about as much as plywood.  That’s how they all are; they’re the plywood breed of harps.

People ask me if it throws me off to play on unfamiliar harps.  I like to compare it to driving an unfamiliar car.  Driving an unfamiliar car can take some getting used to and similarly playing an unfamiliar harp can require some adjusting.  The stiffness of the pedals and responsiveness of the strings can vary from harp to harp.  Also harps can have horrifying little surprises nestled in their apparently innocent facade, such as wire strings that make a horrible buzzing sound when played too loudly, false strings that just won’t make harmonics, and pedals that pop out of place.  It takes a bit of playing around to discover the quirks of each harp.  But on plywood harps it doesn't really matter.  I usually give up on making any good music on them and just try to get the notes out.  Poor harps.  I do pity them.  Most of them spend the greater part of their lives locked away in pitch black closets, probably crying in the despair of uselessness with only creepy insects and arachnids to comfort them.  Once I was playing a plywood and I noticed a spider crawling around my feet.  I’m 95% sure it crawled out of the harp.  Imagine being forced to lean an instrument on yourself knowing a spider might crawl onto your shoulder and down your shirt.