No one is ever really gone
I had a wonderful reminder last night of an old friend. He was passionate and eccentric and talented and he died in a terrible car accident in the late nineties. I was probably a little bit in love with him, like every other person that knew him. He used to practice his bass (whom I think he had named "Volupte") all over the music building, most often in the back stairwell or in the elevator and we were constantly running into each other. We had a communications class together with my friend Dawn and had many a late night study session, usually the night before a test and sometimes, he would play. He was incredible.
He is the one that told me to put myself into my music. That there's no point if all you're doing is just playing the notes on the page. Don't be afraid, be passionate. Express Something! He isn't the first person to have ever said that, or to have even said that to me, but his voice is the one that stuck. It's been more than ten years since he passed and that philosophy has soaked in so much that I had lost from whence it came. I wish I had known him better.
Sean Kelly Ball, was a gifted composer and double bass player who was tragically killed in a car accident on February 28, 1997. Though he only lived for 27 years, his life was dedicated to discovering new avenues of musical expression and passions. He was, as well, a talented percussionist, and many of his early compositions involved percussion and double bass. Breakfast at Patrick's was written for Patrick Neher and was first performed by Sean at the Neher residence during a surprise breakfast party. The piece was given it's official premiere in 1992.
I smashed my hand this week with my bassoon. Unfortunately, I also smashed my bassoon with the floor. Except for its horrific appearance, the damage was shockingly minor and it still plays beautifully.
As you can see, the ring on the end of the bassoon was obliterated, but it seems to have absorbed most of the impact. No, it isn’t ivory. It is a lovely plastic that mimics ivory that I’m told Moosmann created himself (it’s slightly translucent when you hold it up to light). Whatever it is, it saved my bassoon from a much worse fate.
Freelance bassoonist and carpenter of the reedy persuasion in Tucson, AZ.
Habits of Musicians
Have Bassoon Will Cook
The Pedantic Bassoonist
Double Reed Ltd.