two strings for naught

Tonight, I will bear a bit of soul and shed whatever pride did not already leave with autumn's farewell.

I have a story to share.

But where this story begins is not so clear, for life entwines itself more like an entropic dust-bunny and less like the carefully woven tapestry.


OMINOUS 88-TOOTHED BEAST

In my early years, I recall the upright bureau of an antique radio sitting near a chest hiding the 8-track and LP player combo. My father played the banjo, and my mother the guitar. But where my instrument was calling, I never did hear. And so at 8 years old, I found myself a stranger to the piano, which I courted quite awkwardly for those next few years that I [was forced to take] lessons. It was quite dreadful, actually.

Horrible sounding notes came from the mouth of this fantastic wooden beast. Countless white keys and a few dribbled black keys... my head swirled and fingers fumbled as the beast seemed only to spit back at my vain attempts to coax a sweet sound from her depths.

Who was I kidding? I had no musical talent.


TWO STRINGS FOR 1999

Well, that story did not change much over the next 20 years, although I did have an affair once with a sweet stringed instrument during my first stint in China, back in 1999.

Working as a mechanical engineering intern, my living quarters were situated in the dormitory just behind the factory. All the workers lived here, in fact - except for the top manager. He tried to tough it out, but eventually gave in to the plushness of a villa with leather sofas and guarded gates. We back at the factory had all the more fun!

My room was on the top floor, and the stairwell to this third floor was often filled with an amazing sound of traditional Chinese music.

...the erhu (二胡), a two-stringed Chinese violin, literally means "two-reckless", i.e., the TWO-stringed instrument played by non-Han ethnicities coming from the northwest of what is present-day China. It is said that 'reckless' refers to the 'non-Han' i.e., the 'barbarian', those coming from a lesser cultured people. But none could resist the sweet if not slightly salty sound of this two-stringed beauty, and she is now inseparable from 'traditional [Han] Chinese' culture. Today, few outside of music institutes are learning to play the erhu, with a majority of its fans in their late 60s. Playing music was and is still a part of old village life, while the young city is more keen to sport a flashy mp3 player.

As it turned out, one of the engineers had been a musical phenomenon in his past life, it seemed, and his good karma allowed him to return without losing any of those talents. He could play the flute, the erhu, the drums, the piano, the accordion, oh my. He could play! But he only played the erhu in the stairwell, perhaps just for my ears.

It was unavoidable that one night he would catch me watching him play, and it wasn't but a moment later that he had me sitting in his chair, playing his instrument!

Starting that night, I became his understudy. I practiced by myself for an hour each night. And when my arms were just about to fall off, I played for another hour under his instruction (we did not yet speak the same language).

With his help, I became the proud owner of my own erhu, one that traveled back with me to America and stayed loyal through years of neglect interspersed with months of passion.


FOUR STRINGS for 2006

It took many more years before I remembered a family heirloom, a violin passed down to my father from his uncle, passed down to him from ??? No one is quite sure of its origin, but in the fall of 2006, it was lying helplessly in a wreck. It might have been the saddest violin I have ever seen.

My father bequeathed it to me, and I much delighted, began to understand how much easier the 4-stringed cousin really is to play. Twice as many strings lying in wait. The erhu, however, keeps only two for show, and leaves the notes hidden for the finding. And the most interesting aspect of the erhu is that the horse-hair of the bow is actually situated between the two strings, making it impossible to separate the bow from the body of the instrument. See my picture below...

And so, I began another quest that autumn to get back to my note-reading and befriend the western cousin of a violin.


ON NOTATION

Here in China, the musical notation is quite a bit different than the western 5-line bar. They use an ancient system called jianpu (simplified notation), which uses numbers instead of circles and lines (standard notation). T'is much easier to read and there is no need for memorizing helper phrases such as "Every Good Boy Does Fine" (who can forget?) Below is a sample of jianpu notation (and the song you will hear below):

jianpu, easy as 1, 2, 3!

BACK TO MY ROOTS IN 2008

Alas, I've found my way back to China, and only recently got smart enough and purchased another erhu. I found an incredible street lined with music stores, where [as musicians do] people were jamming on a variety of instruments... guitars and also erhus and zithers and flutes.

Erhus range in quality and price (¥300 - ¥8,000)and appearance, and after a few hours of scouting, I returned to the first store and claimed my prize. There is just too much erhu to fit in one picture and so, I am not including the ornamental extremities of the beaut!

my 2-stringer

TEACHER WU

If one was looking for an erhu teacher, I would recommend going to one of these music shops and simply inquiring within. What I would not expect is to have a gentleman inside playing amazing songs... immediately inviting you to be his student.

As it turns out, Teacher Wu is just shy of 70 and had hernia surgery just a week before Christmas, not that he celebrated. But did call me just two days after the holiday and ask me if today was the day I would come to visit him and take lessons. I accepted.

It would actually be quite a long story if I detailed just how that first night he gave me a 15-minute lesson right in the store, and how he took me to his home that night and gave me a copy of the newspaper stating he went to Germany and beyond at their request. He really is quite the skilled musician, having performed internationally:

吴兴水演奏二胡：Master Wu Xingshui Performs on the Erhu

And so, books and erhu in hand, I took the #609 bus to his stop and walked to his home located in a Hutong on one of the famous lakes of Beijing, Houhai, where he has lived for 30 years.

While I set myself up with a book, he proceeded to dine on pork dumplings. I played a few tunes that I knew, and it must've been more than he wanted to hear. He brought out one of his personal books and opened it to the first page: 田园春色, or Tianyuan Chunse: Fields and Gardens, the Beauty of Spring. Here is a link to the song:

http://v.ku6.com/show/ZRBFw8BZoCUq4Dx7.html

It is a must-play level-one song. I hadn't even counted myself as being in a level yet, as I had not surpassed any of the warm-up exercises in my music book. He said that a song has the same notes as any of those warm-ups, and is more practical, let alone more beautiful; I should forget the simple stuff and skip to the songs. Never mind that my timing is far behind my note-reading at this stage.

In that hour, he took me through this beautiful song, full of half and quarter notes, and even a crescendo or two. With a teacher such as Master Wu clapping out the rhythm, there is no time to fall behind.

After two hours of practice back in the quiet of my apartment, I decided to make a recording... mainly to hear [and watch] myself and log my progress. Watch at your own risk! :)



Curious of my abilities, I asked him how long it would take a student to reach my current level. He leaned in close and said, "Well, if you were really stupid, you'd have been at this for about a year. If you are smart, maybe 6 months." And with that, I let him know that I have been a student of the erhu for more than 9 years (of which, I've put in no more than 4 months of solid practice), to which we both enjoyed a good chuckle.

Next week, he threatened, I'll start on a level 4 song.