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I do two things in my working life. I play the cello (which sometimes involves playing concerts, or teaching others, or coaching groups), and I run music programs (I happen to be pretty good at this). I used to run music programs for a number of organisations, but now I just work for one charity that puts music programs into schools that wouldn’t normally get them. Over the years, I’ve been in a number of schools – some country, some city- all over the place, actually.

I’ve just come back from visiting one country school I go to regularly. I love it out there. I always have a really good time out there. The staff are really supportive. They are really keen to learn to teach music better. The kids are really keen to learn. I know anyone reading this would think, ‘Yeah right. There’s always one or two that don’t want to be there and slump at the back’, but actually, it isn’t the case.  These kids really do want to learn music stuff, or new songs, or new percussion pieces, or drum patterns….. It’s an excellent situation, I think.

It’s great to be at the helm. It makes me really proud. Tired after a visit – but proud.

On the plane, coming home, I was reflecting on all my teaching. And thinking about how important music is for kids. (I don’t understand why it isn’t seen as important at maths, or literacy – but that’s for another day….) I used to be at another school, but the music program got taken for granted. Things went bad. I left. Was it my fault it got like that? I don’t think so. I think the person at the top decided that they didn’t want something like that at the school. It breaks my heart when I hear stories about what’s going on there, because I still hear a few things from time to time. It was a fabulous music program – and now its not really.

And then I realised that these programs are a little bit like allowing children to grow up as a parent. You do your best – and then you have to walk away. They may keep going as you envisaged (like the ones I’ve set up in Timor), and be really successful. There may be teachers who really take on board what I’m offering, and keep teaching it, and adapt it, and make it better. And then there are others that don’t keep going, musically. And I can’t do anything about that.

 

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It’s been a really crazy year for me. I’ve done so much, and had to turn into a bit of a Duracell bunny – you know that hideous pink thing that just kept going and going and going andgoingandgoingandgoing…..?

I am my own worst enemy – I take on all sorts of things, and then try to make it all perfect. So not only does a concert involve the actual practise and playing, but I’m doing the set-up, the ticketing, dealing with arrangers and composers, the bump-down… you get the picture. It’s all too much. (That’s just the concert part. Let alone the music programs, or the resource creating….)

And if one thing fell out of place, things started to get a bit hairy. There were too many teary nights, as I felt totally overwhelmed. Too many mornings up far too early to fit everything in. Not enough time with friends.

I work for the Australian Children’s Music Foundation (ACMF) – a charity that gives music to children that are disadvantaged in some way. I have worked for the ACMF for over 13 years, and believe in music education, and the work it does with every fibre of my being. And after working for four days for the charity, and then having three days to run my performing career, I’ve just made the swap to be the other way around (well, there goes my OAM. Slacking off now!).

And today is my first Thursday that I am being Rachel-the-cellist, rather than Rachel-the-educator-I’ll-leave-it-all-to-Friday. It’s been a good day. I’ve got loads done. I’ve done the washing. I’ve gone to a yoga class, taught by an excellent teacher.

It’s a drop in pay. But sometimes, I’m not sure that having lots of money is the best reason to work too hard. The way I was going, I would have had some kind of breakdown. And now I can be a cellist more, and I like that.

So what am I going to do? I think the sixth suite beckons. I’ve never learned it properly. And I have a season of ‘Orange is the New Black’ to watch. And the garden needs some care. I might even start cooking again….

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It seems the journey of the second CD is very nearly over. If I was Frodo, I’d have thrown the ring away and now I just have to wend my way back to the Shire. I know it’s really dangerous to say it’s ‘nearly there’, but I think it is.

The tracks have now all been edited and mixed – and everyone is happy with them. I’ve listened to these things more times than I would have liked, which is not many. I don’t like to listen to my recorded playing. I only hear the faults, and start spiraling into negativity. I don’t see the roses – only the thorns. But that’s just me. Ben (who has done the editing) has lived with this music for the last four months, and he’s happy with everything. David is delighted with the whole thing (note to self – I must try to be more like that!). The art work is beautiful, and ready to go. That was, again, my favourite job. I love seeing the process of Klara’s creativity. She has done the art on both of my CDs now. It’s quite remarkable….

The codes for the tracks have been bought. (Did you know there are these codes that are embedded into a CD s your computer knows what they are? Now you do…) The bar code has been purchased. Royalties have been worked out and paid. Financial agreements have been worked out.

It’s been a more pleasant process than the first CD I did a few years ago. I knew what I was in for this time – and, being the control freak I am, I have controlled everything. Budgets, schedules – the lot. It was like controlling a room full of toddlers – but they are all nearly grown-up and can be sent to big school.

What’s left? The tracks need to be mastered (it’s like turning them into what will be burned onto a CD). The timings of the tracks need to be added to the art for the CD. We need to send the disc off to the printers. And then I wait for the finished product.

And then it’s done. I’m back in the Shire with my pipe and ale. ‘Dreaming with Daisy’ goes out into the world. If you don’t like how it sounds, it’ll make a beautiful drinks coaster….

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I have a lot of concerts coming up.

I’m not complaining – just stating a fact. I have to have a lot of notes in my head and under my fingers. I start nearly every morning, sitting at the cello, playing before the sun comes up. And I have sometimes less than an hour to practise as efficiently as I can.

Sometimes I have longer, but most days I feel like I have to be so very clever with what I’m doing and waste no time at all. Not one drop of it.

And right now things are really busy. I’m struggling to get everything done. I have been let down by a few people, and it leaves a really nasty taste in my mouth. And the last thing I want to do is sit at the bloody cello. I want to sleep, or dig in the garden, or drink tea, or do some yoga or do a hundred OTHER things.

And yet I do it. I put bow to string and work.

When you next go up to a musician and say ‘It must be so lovely to do something that you love…’, or look at them in a concert, remember this post (if anyone reads these things!). Remember that just as you don’t want to do things, so do we.

And often, it’s practising.

I don’t love it all the time. A lot of the time, yes. But not every day.

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I have had a few strange things happen to me over the last month or so, and I’ve realised what has happened. Egos have got in the way.

Being a performer is a funny thing. You see, you walk onto some kind of ‘stage’ and you have to believe that what you are about to say (musically, or otherwise) is worth other people paying to listen to. It takes a fair amount of self-belief and self-confidence. And then people clap, and congratulate you, and want to talk to you, and so for a small amount of time, you feel very loved, and validated, and important.

And then everyone goes away. And you are just normal-old-you again.

As a concert organiser, sometimes you have to be really firm about what you will do, and remind people that you won’t teach-as-well-for-nothing, or perform-for-their-worthy-cause-for-nothing-because-you-have-to-pay-the-rent, and I think sometimes I am perceived as a bit of a problem.

So where does a I’m-just-trying-to-make-a-living stop and now-I’m-actually-being-a-prick start?

You see, I think sometimes performers forget that people don’t always love them, and their way is not always right, and what comes out of their mouth is not always the most important thing to listen to right now (actually, come to think of it, I know a few ex-principals who are like that too…).

In Timor there is a great saying – ‘We all need to eat the same sort of rice.’ I like it. I also like that the kids I teach remind me that they don’t give two hoots who I am on the weekend, and how many people I’ve played to. They just want a good music lesson.

But I seem to have stumbled over a few monsters over the last few weeks. I hope that I am not like that to others. It’s a good lesson to learn for me…..