Another Monday,  November 15, 2010

There are only a few more days until Jim and I will head out for the Florida Smash.  I decided that we will drive.  To me, 806 miles is doable.  It means two of us can go for the price of one and I can take two accordions without the cost of shipping or even starting to worry about taking them on the plane.  I love to drive.  It is a chance to relax.  On the other hand, Jim doesn't - so we will see when it is all done.  But for today and tomorrow, it is back to the van commute. 

Late last week Dale Wise (Accordions Plus) made arrangements with Cory Pesaturo to join us at the Holiday Concert on December 11.  It should be a great time.  I can't think of anyone I would rather hear or perform with.  The performance year will conclude with a local Cable TV show.

So there is a lot going on.  Between work, practicing, the website, keeping up with facebook, and the A-List, my proverbial dance card is pretty full.

Connecting Memories,  November 24, 2010, Wednesday

I am continually amazed as how small details connect different parts of my life, most specifically as they relate to the accordion.  It might be something that catches my eye at an antique store or flea market; and often it is something I wasn't specifically looking for.  It can be an item, a piece of music, a person, or even an intellectual concept.  But whatever it is, it opens something deep from within my memory - perhaps dusty at first, but finally emerging with a clarity that often amazes me.

I had several such moments at the Florida Smash, but perhaps the most amazing was when someone mentioned that Aldo Mencaccini was there.  I remember saying, "you mean, Aldo Mencaccini from Bell Accordion?  Exit 5 off the Palisades Parkway?"  I immediately went off to locate him.

When I introduced myself, I told him that I was sure he didn't remember me, but that I had bought several things from him in my early years at West Point.  But there were also ties that went back to my last two years in California.  I knew that Aldo had been involved in importing the Gem Combo Organ that I played with my rock band, Music Emporium.  I got the first two while still in California, but had purchased the third directly from him after coming to New York.   I had also purchased a Leslie 925 speaker from him.  But in the late 1960's, early 1970's, our contact had little to do with accordion.  That was to come now - 40 years later.

Aldo was one of Julio's peers, and some of the first things I wanted to ask him were details of some of my more fun memories of Julio and of the accordion scene in general.   

It took only a few moments to realize  I was in the presence of accordion royalty.  Aldo is one of the few who can back up his opinion and preferences with knowledge.  He is someone who can explain why an accordion responds in a certain way - how things fit together in consort to make a good instrument.  And like Julio Giulietti and three generations of Petosa, it literally comes from generations of skill and hands-on experience.  As I talked with Aldo, I wondered if the accordion community weren't even tighter and more connected then than it is now - even without an internet.

But the most beautiful moment was yet to come.  I was telling him about the Excelsior Rocker Switch that had belonged to General William Knowlton only to find out that he had literally worked on that instrument while working for Excelsior in New York in 1937-38.  I have written about General Knowlton and his relationship with the Excelsior, but speaking with Aldo brought the accordion to new life.  Speaking with Aldo I could now visualize the factory on New York's 6th Avenue, a US factory of over 100 people - a concept almost incomprehensible some 70 years later.  I could visualize craftsmen learning to deal with a piccolo reed and dry tuning.  I could visualize accordions super stars of that day discussing their needs with the tuners and builders.  It was a time of great evolution.  I also learned something new; that Excelsior had built 250 accordions for the US military.  In those few moments, Aldo breathed a new life into General Bill.  

And in our conversation that was much too brief, I knew the center of his true passion. It was in the accordions.  It is a passion that lives through the hands that literally build an accordion.  It is a passion that is carried over each time someone plays the instrument.  To me, the highest compliment is having a builder tell me I know how to handle the instrument - and despite what many might think, to a good builder that includes playing the instrument to its full capabilities.  It isn't how fast or how many notes, it isn't how loud or soft - it goes beyond all those things.  But most important, it is continuing the passion born of the craftsman's hands. 

Perhaps this is one of the reasons I am so uncomfortable when I see instrument slamming and banging (sometimes called manipulation) in the name of art.
Comments on the all-bassetti,  November 28, 2010, Sunday

Paul Cain provided the following comment to the Blog.  After a lot of years, I concur that his observation on the all-bassetti instruments is very accurate:

"I think that Giulietti's philosophy was that a truly proficient bassetti player would have no need for the Stradella system. Stradella, however conventional, is a really clever system! It does a wonderful job at maximizing the left hand, given that it is trapped under a strap and really has only 3 three fingers available. When I became serious about learning the accordion, I was primarily interested in free bass... I have since come to appreciate the merits of Stradella as well. Even though the "bassetti only" instruments were beautiful and capable, I can understand the accordion world's reluctance to abandon Stradella. The transformer instruments are a perfect compromise."

I have played very few of the Giulietti Transformer accordions, however the desire for the stradella is why my quest for an accordion was a dual-system instrument that included both systems.  The concept of the Transformer is more akin to the converter systems on modern instruments.

Thanks to Paul for his comments.  I always welcome comments, and you certainly have to agree with me!

Bill
Split Pea Soup and Time, December 8, 2010,  Wednesday

I have written and talked and talked and written since my return about 18 months ago.  Combined, Anecdotes and Saved Rounds (this Blog) now constitute nearly 200 pages.  But the writing has slowed in the past several months.  I am still imprisoned in the commuter van and have the time to write, but I have fewer words I want to say.  As I started this morning, I wondered if it is time to remove the blog from the website.

The need to write has been displaced with a genuine pleasure from playing the accordion; perhaps with more real enjoyment than I ever previously had.  I always liked to practice, but for me things are often more driven from an inner need than an actual enjoyment.  As an example, I have a need to physically work out every day and it is extremely rare when I miss a day. 

A few years ago I was working on a training certification to become a Pilates instructor and one of the master trainers commented that I was the type individual who was insane enough to become a Pilates Instructor.  I was someone who was willing to spend a lot of time trying to master techniques with a body and physical experience that would not immediately lend itself to the unique requirements of Pilates.  A disciplined and well-trained dancer could execute (or fake) movements with relative ease that would take me a long time to learn how to correctly demonstrate. 

I have always felt the same way about mastering the techniques for playing.  I never had the natural motor skills of either my father or my middle brother.  At nearly 80 years old my father tried a jet ski for the first time - not the ones you sit on, but the original design where you stand.  Within a few moments he was able to stand and maneuver the ski - a skill that usually takes a long time to accomplish.  I could stand until I tried to turn it, resulting in several rather impressive face plants into the lake.  I saw my brother Phil stand the first time he ever took a surf board into the ocean.  I never had that level of natural physical ability.  For me it was work, and generally a lot of it.

That same trait attributed to me by my Pilates instructor was obviously in place as I learned accordion.  I was willing to spend the time to get proficient.  I was also blessed with a perfect combination of teachers who could teach me how to do it - and helped me understand why something worked.  And for some reason, I enjoyed the process.

I often think back to something Tito used to say, and I can still visualize him saying it and hear the words from his voice.  "Billy, it is that secret ingredient, time."  After many years I understand that more than ever.  And with maturity, I can often predict how long that time will be with amazing accuracy.

So to Tito, thanks for your wisdom; "the secret ingredient, time."  The words are simple, but it is a concept that has taken me a lifetime to fully appreciate.  Same thing with Hollywood Fantasia.  Perhaps your genius was wasted on a 15-year old. 

The other day I told Jim he should set aside some of his pieces for a while and then come back to them - give them a fresh look.  It is another application of Tito's words.  I don't think he understands why.  But at 15 years of age I would never been able to comprehend what it would mean to pick up Hollywood Fantasia after 50 years.  To experience Tito's presence next to me once again.  To hear his words.  To read from his manuscript.  To have a new appreciation of his understanding of the accordion.  His creativeness.   His genius.
Marching into the New Year,  January 2, 2011, Sunday

Each year seems to pass more quickly than the one previous and 2010 has been no exception.  For me, a primary resentment of getting older is that I don't have time to do all the things in life I would like to do.

I continue to balance a full-time position at US Department of Transportation with aspirations to play accordion.  However, with the demands of a full time job combined with a daily commute that is never less than 3 hours or more likely exceeds 4 or even 4 1/2 hours, practice time is precious commodity.   I look forward to the day I can retire from the full-time job.

I finished the performing year with a local cable television show.  Other highlights were recording a stradella album on the new Giulietti 127, performing at the Accordionists and Teachers Guild and the Florida Smash.

But probably the most rewarding part of the year was in rediscovering the technical challenges and musical rewards that parallel developing  repertoire.  I have not played Tito's original bassetti compositions for nearly 50 years.  As I started playing, I was immediately reminded of his true genius - especially how well he understood the sonority and tonal capabilities of the instrument.  Hollywood Fantasia does not have a single registration change, bellows shake, and certainly no banging on keyboards, switch clicking, flapping bellows, or air release value manipulation.  It is just music that flows from an intrinsic understanding of what the instrument is and what will sound and work.  The music seems simple, but it is unbelievably complex.  The jazz style of Hollywood Fantasia also demands fingering in both hands that is often totally contrary to what I would normally use.  I hope that I might ultimately influence some of the younger players to include Tito's music in their programs.  It stands apart from anything I heard at the Galla-Rini Competition and would represent a nice variety.

I have also been working on Gregory Stone's accordion works - both the earlier stradella pieces and the later bassetti pieces.  Other than the fact that Gregory and Tito were both writing for accordion, there are few similarities.  But Gregory's works could also be included in the current repertoire of some of the younger players - but even many of the stradella works are nearly impossible to find.  I get a lot of inquiries.

Then there is the underlying infrastructure of Bach and Scarlatti. 

So it has been a fun and challenging year - and I look forward to 2011.  So to everyone, Happy New Year!

Extending the Bass,  3 January 2011, Monday

Several weeks ago I saw an entry from a Facebook friend in Canada saying he was doing some research and was seeking feedback.  The question was in the weakness of the left hand when playing in certain keys.  His comments and concerns were on his personal instrument, an Italian-made chromatic bayan with a chromatic converter system.  A few weeks later he was urgently trying to locate the phone number of the Russian bayan builder.

I hesitated jumping into the discussion.  First, it seemed that he was looking for a quick answer and I wasn't entirely sure I fully understood his question or what he was trying to accomplish.  He continued that the lowest note on his accordion was E.  And from his dialogue, I would assume he was referring to both the chromatic converter section as well as the lowest note on the stradella.

My immediate thought; in terms of using the converter section of the left hand, there should no difference in key strength.  However, at the same time, the topics of many previous blogs came to mind - most specifically that today's chromatic bayan is often treated like what I have coined the chromatic stradella; so named as the two fundamental stradella rows are often used for all bass/pedal notes regardless of the pitch integrity (for years proclaimed as a primary fault of the stradella system to begin with [sic]); and that bassettis (at least the ones I play) do not make good stradellas - which is also okay.  However, it is still critical that the accordionist can compensate for the difference; much like the challenge of reconciling the thick voicing of lower chords in Schubert when played on a modern piano.

But it comes full circle when looking at the bigger scope of all accordions.  When I returned to playing I heard a new term - 'Galla-Rini registration'.  This referred to voicing in the left hand and how registers could be used predictably to obtain the proper pitch.  I don't when they started calling it 'Galla-Rini registration', though I know it was one of his life-long passions to accurately maintain pitch integrity in the left hand and have a system of registration that would support that.  But in 1960, the time I abandoned stradella for bassetti, nearly every quality accordion used this system anyway.  It didn't need a special name. 

But key to Galla-Rini registration was a stradella system with a low C.  Today, finding a stradella with a low C is difficult - often requiring a special order.  Accordions are either A, G, or even E.  When talking of General Bill, the 1938 Rocker Switch Excelsior, the first thing several technicians say should be done is to change it to a low A or even low G for more bottom end.  In all instances, so much for the 'Galla-Rini  registration', let alone accuracy of pitch.

So I would pose a new question - has extending the bass notes cause a greater difference in response in the lowest octave?  Does the key become a consideration?   One of the reasons I say the bassettis make bad stradellas is because of dealing with the response time of the bass notes.  This is especially true when playing the lowest notes and would certainly cause the instruments to favor certain keys.  If response time is not a concern, go for the lowest notes.  If it is a factor, don't.  However I never remember even thinking about key signature as a weakness factor on a standard, C-system stradella.  And with the right instrument, I don't ever remember thinking it didn't have enough bottom end.

The original Giulietti bassettis had a low G, however within a year or so this was extended to low E.  However, the stradella still used the low G.  Fabian (1980 Super 6/3) still uses the low G, however Elizabeth (1986 Super 5/4) extends the stradella section to the E. 

So where am I going with all this?  I have said that many of the younger converter/bayan players use the left hand differently that we did - the  'chromatic stradella'.  But I have also seen some of them reaching out in terms of sonority and repertoire.  I doubt these players realize that they are returning to an approach similar to some of the early US bassetti players.  But if I accurately read my young Canadian's friends query, they are bumping against musical problems that we really didn't have as our concept and approach were ultimately quite different.  Now the challenge will be to find a balance.

To What End,   4 January 2011, Tuesday

I joined my first accordion forum a few weeks ago.  It has been an interesting experience. 

Over the years I have actively participated in several forums on specific topics and found them to be of tremendous value.  Of special interest was a forum dedicated to Ampex audio recorders. 

I saw my first Ampex recorder in the mid 1950's.  Herb Hay recorded the Western States Accordion Festival for many years.  He had a metal-tube Ampex 350 that he used in both the Ampex roll-around studio console and in the Ampex travel cases to record the major performances for the festivals.  For smaller rooms he used an Ampex 601. I always had a passion for recording and helped Herb record the competitions in later years.  Through Herb I learned the peculiarities of using the professional machines and started learning the use of a razor blade for editing.

In the 1960's while working on the Accordion Masterworks I album, Alan Emig provided unique insight into both recording and mastering.  Alan designed and supervised the construction of several of Elektra's studios and was considered one of the industry's top engineers. I learned further tricks in using the machine and also started to learn about mastering.

I always wanted my own Ampex.  Even in the 1950's I had GSA catalogues that my dad brought home from work and dreamed of my own home studio with a 601-2 and the accompanying 620 monitor speakers.  But it was to be nearly 20 years before I owned a professional Ampex.  And then in typical Cosby fashion (if it is worth doing, it is worth over-doing), I ended up with a house full of them.  In the mid 1970's I became friends with the head technician from the Ampex Hackensack branch and we had a good time buying, using, refurbishing, and reselling Ampex recorders. 

In the 1990's I once again built a collection of machines, but when I moved from California to Virginia I didn't have anyone who could service them.  I could do basic maintenance and calibration, but with vintage machines (just like vintage accordions), sometimes that wasn't enough.

Then, through the internet, I discovered the Ampex forum.  Through the forum I was connected with some of the country's best experts on anything and everything Ampex.  The key participants were active and retired technicians, engineers, and even the factory personnel who had designed the machines.  I could locate parts at prices I could afford, get questions answered, and find someone who could help with a complex technical issue.  The forum members would often go to extremes to assist, whether it be finding an old schematic or recreating a problem on their personal machine to help you resolve your issue.  The forum stayed on topic and I don't remember issues of people crashing or polluting the discussion with personal attacks.  I don't even remember any 'rules'.  If a question came in off-topic it was politely referred to a different forum.  These were the remaining, undisputed giants in all things Ampex and it was an enormous resource.  I felt comfortable asking any question and knew I would get a courteous response. 

Jim does some groups and forums in the dog fancy and the experience is often not consistent to the Ampex forum I described above. The topics are often rampant, there are often arguments and disagreements, rules, people getting thrown off the list, moderators moderating, and all that other stuff.  From what I have read the first few weeks of the new accordion forum, it more closely aligns with his experience.  Ultimately, I wonder if I would read it for the content or merely for the drama? 

I often refer to former Defense Secretary Rumsfeld when he said, "There are known knows.  These are things that we know.  There are known unknowns.  That is to say, there are things that we know we don't know.  But there are also unknown unknowns.  These are things we don't know we don't know."  This concept is intrinsic to how members approach the Ampex forum.  But can that concept carry over to  topics shared as accordion enthusiasts?  From what I have seen so far, not very well.  But there is certainly the possibility for lots of drama.  But for drama, wouldn't I rather watch A-List New York?
Let’s Go Into the Backyard and Put On A Play (Part One),   January 6, 2011, Thursday

A good friend who works for the Department of Defense often uses the phrase, "Let's go out into the backyard and put on a play."  He has a great sense of humor and there is a very simple message in these words that never ceases to bring a smile to my face.  It's another way of saying, there is a problem and we should do something about it.  But the solution is something that accomplishes little more than making us feel good.  It certainly doesn't address the problem, in fact it generally shows that we don’t understand the situation in the first place.

I read on the forum summary yesterday that someone had written two college-level programs for accordion.  And no one had been interested.  Sort of like the title of my book, I Brought My Accordion to the Party but No One Asked Me to Play.  And, at least in my opinion, it is much like the backyard scenario.

When I got ready to go to college there were two schools that I knew of with programs in accordion.  One was in Houston with Bill Palmer, the other was in Denver with Robert Davine.   Neither one really interested me as my original intent in going to college was for one reason and one reason only - to get a draft deferment.  That attitude changed almost immediately once I realized that the university environment was nothing like high school.  However, it was even more ironic that I would ultimately spend 5 years active duty Army, 23 years on the Staff and Faculty of the United States Military Academy, and spend a total of 34 years working for various Service Branches of the Department of Defense.

When I was a sophomore in high school I was invited to participate in an advanced music program at USC.  USC certainly did not have a program in accordion, but after an audition and a few interviews, they suggested that I start my university studies the next year and agreed that I would enter music studies as a third-year (upper division) student.  They would provide the few remaining mandatory secondary education courses.  My Dad, a life-long educator politely declined.  He didn't think it was the right thing in terms of my social development.  Of course, he was right.

When I finally entered college, I took a minimum of lower division music courses, most my choice.  The only one that was required was 16th century counterpoint.  It seems my accordion teachers had done a  good job.  Glenn Stead placed a heavy emphasis on music theory.  We even played pieces in his accordion bands straight from traditional dance band charts where we were required to transpose.  Tito grilled  his students on every scale and chord imaginable until they were intuitive.  And Oakley Yale was a walking encyclopedia on orchestral and piano repertoire. 

So instead of an accordion regimen in college, I focused on analyzing all 32 Beethoven Sonatas, going through all the Riemenschneider Bach Chorales, all the Debussy Preludes, and regularly attending performances of LA Philharmonic.  My accordion studies continued with Tito, then Oakley, and finally Galla-Rini and Don Balestrieri.  And the two complimented each other.

As an undergrad, I had a Music History and Literature specialization, but ultimately I played accordion at University events as much as and probably more than any other music major.  I was also the guest soloist with several of the choral groups.  The only questions of legitimacy or acceptance came from other accordionists. 

Probably my biggest surprise came in my last year when I competed in the Atwater Kent Scholarship Awards and was given a special prize in musical performance.  After the awards presentation/concert, I was approached backstage by Aube Tzerko with whom I was studying piano.  I had included the Liszt 19th Rhapsody transcription in the program and was somewhat nervous as Aube could be pretty direct.  He asked, "Why are you playing piano?  There are at least 100 people that play as well as or better than Van Cliburn in this country.  Who else plays accordion?  What are you doing?"  I explained that I was learning new levels of musicianship and pedagogy from him and applied them to all that I did.  I think he understood my answer as when I returned to UCLA for post-graduate study in the 1980's, but this time as a conducting major studying under Sam Krachmalnic and Donn Weiss, I asked if I could once again take from him and he obliged.  He was also the person who got Edith Oppens to accept me for private lessons in New York City.  I had originally studied historical and systematic musicology during my first tenure in grad school and Robert Stevenson, my faculty advisor and one of the most respected musicologists world-wide was possibly one of my biggest accordion supporters. 

As I became more familiar with the classical dance world through Jim, I realized that few world-class dancers emerged through a university system.  Almost without exception, dancers were trained in specialized programs and were often principal soloists by the time they reached college age.  And they typically pass on their craft in the highly specialized training programs; though some ultimately end up in the academic environment.  But key to this concept is that they know what it is to be a world-class artist. 

So when I read of someone creating a college program that no one wanted to adopt, I wonder where they are coming from.  Each of my teachers and mentors chose repertoire and other studies they felt were necessary for me.  And what they did with me may not track with what they did for another student.  How could one come up with a cookie-cutter approach (method of study) that would apply to all?  And this would also require the understanding that would only come from personal experience at or above the level they expected me to achieve.  I can see where this could exist in other parts of the world, but there remain other potential pitfalls I might go into in later blogs.

Julio Giulietti wanted accordions in the public school system.  I first doubted this was ever feasible, but beyond that, was it something that would really produce players?  Has it ever happened with any other solo instrument except in the most unique environments?  Part Two of this blog entry will explore this topic in greater depth
Perhaps Julio Had It Wrong,  January 19, 2011, Wednesday

A bit over a week ago I posted the first part of a blog and promised a second part; comments on Julio Giulietti's dream to introduce the bassetti accordion into the public elementary schools.

As a kid in the 1950's and early 60's, my perspective of school music programs came from Torrance Unified School District.  In elementary school there was an orchestra.  In high school there were spirit bands, a concert band, a jazz band, and several choral groups.  But as a young accordionist I was never involved with any of them.  The closest I ever got to music in high school was rehearsing for a few weeks with a theatrical production of "Our Town" where I was going to accompany a group of church singers and once playing in a talent show.   There was nothing in the music program that drew my interest.  In contrast, a good friend and fellow accordionist, Jerry Roberts, was very active.  But as Jerry moved through the process he started moving away from accordion toward piano.

I remember the yearly awards assemblies prior to graduation where outstanding students would be announced for each academic discipline.  Jerry was a year ahead of me and I remember his recognition as the Torrance High School's outstanding music student.  I don't know who received the honor the year I graduated, but it wasn't me.  None of the faculty or fellow students had any idea of my musical aspirations or accomplishments and as a high school junior I had already played in New York's Carnegie Hall.

Perhaps it seems I am bitter about never having any recognition in high school.  Not without an ego, I would say I was disappointed; but my musical accomplishments were not associated with the school system. 

In truth, with the exceptions of some very select private schools, I wonder how much any solo instrument (piano, guitar, organ, or accordion) has served as a foundation, or even ancillary musical activity.  In the early 1960's I saw piano labs in colleges; row upon row of electric instruments with a teacher who could monitor activity from the front of the room.  But how many piano labs became a part of any elementary or high school?

In contrast to solo instruments, the focus was on instruments that could fit into an ensemble and teachers who could be trained to instruct every one of them.  Orchestra.  Band.  Choir.  Glee Club.  Everyone can participate.  Everyone can enjoy.  Something we can do together.  And perhaps a spark will be ignited that will inspire a future string player.  Solo instrumentalists - you are on your own.  Though hopefully we can find a pianist with enough skill to accompany concert choir.

I cannot say with much certainty that what I have described is the norm across the country, so please understand that what follows is merely conjecture or my opinion: and accordion does not, and perhaps should not, fit into this scenario for several reasons. 

First; accordion is perhaps one of the most social instruments there is - a portable instrument with incredible versatility and a capability to magically draw people together.  However, the extent of this phenomenon and how the individual accordionist makes his magic is as varied as the number of accordionists - and getting there is an individual path for each individual.  From a purely fiscal standpoint, I don't see how any school could define instructional objectives, let alone justify the cost of an accordion program.

Second.  After a lot of years I have become even more convinced that the all-bassetti instruments (except in some very unique circumstances) diminish the accordion's potential; and this comes from someone (me) who played all-bassetti instruments (no stradella chords) for many years to include everything from full-length concerts to combo gigs. 

Julio is often quoted as saying that a player with adequate free-bass facility doesn't need stradella chords.  In fact, when I approached him in the late 1970's to purchase a true stradella, he wouldn't sell me one.  He asked me, why would you want to go backward?  Unfortunately, it isn't quite that simple.  If I were going to play nothing but very limited types of music there might be some validity - but certainly not without emasculating the instruments greatest inherent strength; its versatility.  I would never want to give up the capabilities provided with a free bass system, but I don't want to abandon stradella to do so.  And from what I continue to hear (music, not words), this attitude is certainly intuitive to today's young super-players.  I doubt that any of them have even remotely considered abandoning the stradella system for more than a few mili-seconds.  So even if a public school system were going to have an accordion program, it would more likely be with a stradella accordion.   

Third.  Repertoire.  I have tried starting a few new-to-music-and-accordion students on all-bassetti instruments with almost no success.  With an all-bassetti instrument you go a long time without the ability to say much musically.  And when you finally get there, there isn't the plethora of great repertoire waiting for you like there is for piano.  I have heard it said that you can learn to sail in a day, but it takes a lifetime to learn to sail.  With a modicum of coordination you can hit a tennis ball across a net the first time you hit the court, but the more you play the more you realize how difficult it is to master the game.  But those few magnificent moments of beginner's excitement - the thing that makes someone want to come back - I don't see them in an all-bassetti student instrument.  It's a difficult task, and what is the reward?

So even with the enormous respect and admiration I had for Julio, I think he was off course on this one.  I am sure my introduction to free bassetti in 1961 is what kept me coming back - and ultimately what provides the challenge and stimulus to want to play the instrument 57 years later.  But at the exclusivity of abandoning all parts of the stradella system?  No.

And perhaps history is bearing this out with the fate of many of the glorious all-bassetti instruments - being bastardized into behemoth stradellas. Left hands being banished to an abandoned part of a work bench or stuffed in the back of a closet.
A Special Audience,  January 20, 2011,  Thursday

Several weeks ago I was delighted to have a rather extended conversation with Leo Niemi.  Though I have never met Leo or Lois in person I feel I know them both.  Leo has earned an international reputation as one of the accordion's finest artisans and we also have mutual friends going back at least 50 years.

Some conversations are forgotten almost as soon as they are completed, but my conversation with Leo continues to spin within me.  His wonderful energy is a model that brings light to things that inspire and encourage.  It is the same energy that provides music its extraordinary magic.

Leo talked about accordions and bringing them to their full potential, but something that really stuck with me was when he spoke of the practice environment - how the accordions of students with a positive environment and attitude thrived, and how the accordions of students in negative environments were quick to go out of tune and deteriorate almost immediately.  He said he encouraged players to occasionally switch the rooms where they practice, keeping the energy positive and fresh.

I have always found myself switching practice rooms, most often to increase my ability to hear and also approximate the performance environment.  But Leo reminded me there are other things that really add to the quality of my practice time.  I have always enjoyed practicing, but talking to Leo made me recognize something quite special.  It is something so small that it could easily be overlooked. 

Afghan Hounds are an unusual breed of dog.  I once read that upon first encounter, people either embrace the breed, or they can't get far enough away fast enough.  The Ghans (what I call them) were Jim's choice of breed, and it took me quite some time to appreciate the subtleties of their personalities and the unique way they fit into the family and interact with each other.  I love all my dogs, but Lilly, the youngest Ghan, is my favorite.  She was whelped in the room where I practice, the last puppy in the litter, and was a fader; pushed away by her littermates and ignored by her mother.  Jim fought around the clock to for the first few days to help her survive - until she could hold her own.

Anyway, Lilly is my practice dog.  Ghans have a natural instinct to gravitate to the tops of overstuffed furniture and beds.  I have seen Afghan owners sitting on the floor or on an end table because the dogs have claimed all the furniture.  So it is not unusual that Lilly gravitates to the top of the bed.  She sometimes chews on her dog chew, listens, and eventually will sleep.  But my conversation with Leo helped me realize that she brings wonderful energy and enormous joy into the room.  And that energy transcends into the practice and the accordion.

So Leo, thanks for that wonderful gift.