I’m not talking about snuggling Your neck, but rather the neck of your violin, and with your left hand. Yes, a nice warm, fuzzy feeling that brings relaxation and fluidity to your playing.

This morning I put a couple of ‘bonus chapters’ on the Vol. 3 instructional DVDs. The first, something many subscribers have sought clarification on, is dedicated to holding the violin with the left hand.

I think you’re going to love the increased ease and pleasure it brings to your playing.

And by the way, the technique is very much in the Russian tradition (Auer, Milstein, Heifetz, etc.) and is an essential part of the fluidity and facility those masters enjoyed.

Chapter two is on acquiring a relaxed, well-formed vibrato. First I demonstrate and explain the exact movement of the hand.

Then I give you the ‘vacuum exercise’. You’ll drive the dog and your family bonkers with this one – but it’s most effective.

You might also be pleased to know, if you haven’t already reserved a
copy of Vol. 3 and 4, that I’m going to accept reservations for them at the special rate for 2 more days. This is in honor of the 2 ‘bonus chapters’ I created today.

All the best,

Clayton Haslop

P.S. Yesterday morning my daughter joined me in listening to Schubert’s transcendent ‘Octet’ for strings and winds performed by the Melos Ensemble. As we listened to the first movement I was reminded of a characterization a colleague made of chamber music. He said, ‘It’s like a conversation in which everyone speaks at once, and yet all are understood.’ So true of Schubert.

Then we danced around the room to the wonderful 6/8 Scherzo that followed.

Believe it or not, there are people who will get nothing from my courses. I hope you’re not to be one of them.

But just for the sake of argument, let me make a case for such a person. Oh yea, I’ll give him a name; how ‘bout Liaf.

Liaf, ‘I believe the breathing exercise is a little weird, and a waste of time. After all, playing the violin is about moving fingers, hands, and arms. Changing my way of breathing and staying aware of it doesn’t seem like it’s going to help me at all’.

Liaf, ‘I’ve done a lot of slow practice over the years. It gets me nowhere.’

Liaf, ‘the counting thing; I tried it for a while, but I keep misspeaking and getting confused. I can’t see as how it will ever help me improve.’

Liaf, ‘and trying to visualize; I should be able to just play. It’s too much work for me to create mental images as I play. When I see great players they make it look so easy. It doesn’t seem possible they are going to such trouble.’

OK, you get the picture. The problem with Liaf – have you read his name backward? – is, he wants some easy answers. Ones that won’t require him to question his fundamental relationship to the violin; toward the process of learning in general.

This takes a great deal of maturity.

The folks that are getting results from my methods, and I trust that you’re one of them, are passionate, committed, and are not resistant to going about things quite differently.

In fact, they’re embracing the challenge of it because they sense long term benefits.

They aren’t hell-bent on playing this or that concerto, they’re interested in deeper, more meaningful relationship with their violin. One that transcends What they’re playing; one that is all about How they are playing.

For the past several days my mother has shared her room with a woman dealing with the unfortunate effects of diabetes. She may be down, but she is most definitely not out.

Until November 7, as Barbara tells it, she had not missed more than a hand full of days in 25 years as a special education teacher.

She is one lively, passionate, and fiercely independent lady.

In early November, however, the diabetes she had kept under control for some 50+ years struck with a vengeance, requiring emergency vascular surgery to save one of her legs.

Now one of the deep incisions just won’t close. She’s currently on a constant drip of powerful intravenous antibiotics.

In any case, a couple of days ago I was practicing in a staff room just across the hall from their room; my door was open, theirs was closed while my mother napped.

Since I was playing with a practice mute I figured I was pretty much inaudible, unless someone entered the room in which I was playing.

Suddenly I looked up to find Barbara sitting near the door.

‘I could hear almost every note you were playing, even with the door closed’, she said, ‘and I just had to come over and watch you.’

Bear in mind, Barbara is not knowledgeable about ‘classical music’. But there she was, drip and all, totally enthralled by the music of Bach.

After sharing her observations I realized just how sensitive and conscious a woman she is.

I was inspired to continue.

What came to me was the ‘Adagio’ of the G Minor Sonata. As I played I counted, in a very broad four. Within that beat I felt the music undulate, ebb, and flow like the long ocean swells following a passing storm.

I have rarely felt myself play the movement with as much understanding and feeling as I did in that moment.

Barbara’s grace and acute interest, made all the more potent by her inescapable vulnerability, literally drew it out of me.

Both yesterday’s and today’s emails point to the importance of sharing your music with interested, sympathetic people. It’s certainly not about showing off. It is simply about the mutual expression of love.

And if you ever find yourself short of an audience, you’ve only to visit the nearest nursing care facility and offer your services. They’ll be begging you to play.

All the best,

Clayton Haslop

P. S. As of this writing we have only 8 copies left of Kreutzer Volumes 3 and 4 at the special prepublication rate. I know you will derive years of use and pleasure from this course. And there won’t be a better time than right now to insure it becoming a valued part of your musical library.

It’s kind of humorous to look back on, but at the time the following little anecdote was not in the least bit funny. It had one useful benefit, however. It changed forever the way I prepared to play from memory.

Here’s what happened.

Back in my ninth year of school, I was selected to be the concertmaster of the Southern California Honor Orchestra. In addition, I was one of 3 members of the orchestra chosen to perform ‘solo’ on the main concert. Ironically, perhaps, I played ‘Praeludium and Allegro’.

Now in those days, for me memorization meant running through a piece over and over until I could play it by rote, just pure muscle memory getting me from beginning to end.

Problem was, I really had nothing else to fall back on, should my muscles loose their way.

At the concert there I was in front of a civic auditorium full of people and, for the first time in my career, an orchestra of ‘colleagues’.

The first thing that went wrong was a little thought that popped up in the back of my brain, ‘I bet all the other players are hoping I mess up!’

On it’s heals was another, ‘Maybe I’m not good enough to be one of the soloists’.

That kind of negative thinking is the fastest way I know to derail a performance. And boy, did it ever.

During the course of what should have been a 5 minute performance I made at some 5 trips to the piano trying hopelessly to recover my misplaced bearings – I never knew before just how far away a piano could be.

In between those endless jaunts were enough drop-outs to fill the Army’s recruitment quota for the invasion of Iraq.

I’m talking real embarrassment here. And my first girl friend watched the whole thing.

As I say, things changed after that experience.

Today my memorization has four components, or levels.
1. Muscle memory – yes, it still plays a minor, but sometimes critical role.
2. Visual/Auditory memory – I visualize myself playing and hearing the music.
3. Photographic memory – In my version I ‘see’ the actual notes in my minds eye, sometimes even as it they’re notated on the page.
4. Counting, with all of the above – I find that by consciously labeling each beat of music (one could add bar numbers as well) I deeply embed the 1st three components.

Yes, this takes some time, especially for a ‘memory challenged’ player like myself. But if you put in the time, both with and without a violin in your hands, you’ll be rewarded come concert time. No question.

All the best,

Clayton Haslop

P.S. I know of no better way to jump-start your powers of visualization than by using the focus tools you will find in the Kreutzer, Vol. 1 program. It’s a must for any violinist who genuinely wants consummate mastery of fundamental violin techniques.

In yesterday’s email I stopped short of where I was meaning to go. I thought it was going to get a little too esoteric.

However, this morning I received an email from my friend Nicolo, and his interest and enthusiasm drives me forward.

So Nicolo, this one is for you.

A few years ago the New Hollywood String Quartet, of which I was then the 1st violinist, performed Hadyn’s magnificent Quartet in D Major, Op. 76, #4.

The opening movement is a very stylized movement in a moderate tempo.

The second movement is out of this world.

Haydn writes, for the tempo, ‘adagio molto e mesto’. Say that out loud a few times with an Italian accent. Doesn’t it sound wonderful?

All right, now consider this. This Very slow, ‘mournful’ movement is written in F Sharp Major. Take a look in virtually any harmony book and it will most likely say that the more sharps in the key signature the ‘brighter’ the sound.

It ain’t necessarily so.

The last note of the first movement is a D major chord. Using ‘just’ tuning – the resultant tones are in tune – the F sharp is 13% lower than it would be if tempered, like a piano.

Now, use THAT F sharp as the tonic for the next movement, and then think of a ‘justly tuned’ major third above it. Yes, it’s an A sharp. And when played in such a context it takes on the ‘color’ of the winter sun seen through amber glass.

Believe me. Haydn knew tuning. This was no accident.

Before I became somewhat clued in, where tuning is concerned, I would have been very puzzled by the seeming contradiction in key and tempo/feeling marking. Now it makes perfect sense to me.

The trick is to get four people to ‘see the light of the winter sun shining through amber glass’ together. Let me tell you, it takes some practice.

All the best,

Clayton Haslop

P.S. Speaking of ‘seeing the light’. There is a great deal of it to be shed on the fundamentals of violin playing in Kreutzer for Violin Mastery. And there won’t be anything wintry about it either.

It seems to me discipline has gotten a bad rap over the years. Often today it’s seen as a sentence to drudgery, to self-containment, and obligation.

Well, my friend, I don’t see it that way.

It’s like the difference between real gold and ‘fool’s gold.’ Where there’s real discipline there is intelligence and growth. Where the counterfeit exists, there is narrow-mindedness and rigidity.

At the Masterclass/Seminar this past weekend the difference became crystal clear. There it was seen, in no uncertain terms, that the empty application of time and repetition produced dismal and fruitless results.

In other words, a practice discipline without real discernment and acute interest was worse than wasting time.

One is like piling sand around a fruit tree that is in need of nutrients. The useless sand then has to be cleared away before wholesome fertilizer will reach deep into the soil and lead to a bountiful yield.

Fortunately, once the counterfeit is unmasked, it is not difficult to get yourself back on track.

This past weekend we took an up close and personal look a what self-observation is all about. When I talked about ‘Eureka’ moments yesterday, this was one of them, big time.

You see, though everyone had watched my instructional DVDs many times over before coming to the class, there was evident a lack of in depth self-observation on the part of most attendees during practice. This frustrated the internalization of what had been witnessed.

When, in Kreutzer, Vol. 1, I went on about detache being accomplished by first an action of the tricep, and then an action of the bicep, it required a deep act of self-examination to discover and disarm ALL other muscle groups. This is only accomplished by taking a CLOSE look at the arm movements. The kind of close look you get with a powerful microscope when looking at a single cell.

Even once it was done on a single note, played slowly several times, the self-discipline then had to be extended and increased to maintain that newly acquired motion during the playing of actual music.

But let me tell you, watching and listening to the results was magic.

What I’m getting at here is to take my instruction and demonstrations on the DVDs as a jumping off point for self-observation. Slow things down. Take the time to check in with every muscle of your body, turning off those you don’t absolutely require, and infusing the ones you do need with the vitality of your breath.

Now that’s an exercise of true discipline.

All the best,

Clayton Haslop

P.S. As always, I leave you with a link to click on if you’re just now making the decision to join in the fun.