My Aging Temperamental Children

Reeds - If you too make your own, you can relate to the neurotic and temperamental nature of these little buggers. A reed can have great response and amazing tone one day, but less than 24 hours later may sound like the latest advancement in duck call technology. There are so many differences between how each person makes their reeds, along with the materials and tools they use. I'm not going to explore those all in one post. It would be too tedious. But I'm going to mention a consistency I've started to notice.

I try not to every have a reed case of just brand new reeds or just old reeds. Newer reeds can take a bit longer to break in, while older reeds tend to have more and more issues as they age. (Though occasionally you find one that is like a fine wine and grows better with age.) I don't work on reeds every single day, but every other day or every 2 days I try to sit down and spend an hour or two doing some type of reed work - processing cane, tying blanks, scraping new reeds or killing and dissecting dead reeds. The newer reeds get worked into my practice cycle as the dead reeds are pulled out.

Now as I go through the process of making a reed, I tend to use very hot water and work quickly with the blank. Once the reed is stable enough to be placed into the practice cycle, it continues to need that hot water for a period of time. As it ages, I find I don't always need water that is quite as hot. Room temperature water or tap water warmed by my hands works just as well as the hot water, if not better. Occasionally, it craves a treatment of that nearly boiling water, but it is merely a sign of its age and impending death. Some reeds can survive for months, while others can disintegrate within weeks. But this progression of soaking water temperature never fails for me.

What is interesting is my current Yoda told me today that she finds the progression to be opposite for her. Newer reeds soak in cooler water while older reeds need hotter and hotter water to function. She and I definitely have different methods of making our reeds and what we need out of the reed. Its yet another difference in the various steps of reed-making.

The Drama of Sharp Objects

If you make your own reeds, you've certainly dealt with the drama that surrounds just the creation of these little buggers, which I fondly refer to as my neurotic children. I'm not going to attempt to deal with that all in one entry, but I'd like to address one aspect of their creation process - The Knife.

There are many different varieties to choose from out there, and I've learned everyone has their own favorite. I, myself, own four knives from three different makers. My first knife, a Vitry, was included in my reed making kit. As I became more adept at cultivating my reeds, my First Yoda suggested I purchase another knife - a double-ground Charles knife. These two knives served me well. Then I went off to college and was introduced to my friend's Landwell. New school, new teacher - why not new knives? So I purchased another Charles knife and my very own Landwell (medium).

Each knife has its own quirks and personality. I found Vitry does not sharpen very well at its butt (the part closest to the handle) or its tip, but the center is good. I move up and down the length of my knife when shaping a tip to constantly use the Vitry. But it works well for tying on reeds. Charles I will always have a special place in my heart, but I found Charles II to be less giving than his predecessor. They both have specific sweet spots, and I've found Charles II to work well with preliminary scrapings. Charles I does fairly well for English horn reed making. Landwell is by far my favorite. It keeps a sharp edge from the butt to the tip, and while it needs the most sharpening, this is only because I use it most often. It is the knife with its own leather sheath, and is not left at home on the reed desk when I go to rehearsals.


So imagine my horror when I pulled him out at an Erie Chamber Orchestra rehearsal to find rust covering the tip and along parts of the knife. I know it had been almost two weeks since I'd pulled out that knife, but had no idea how the knife or its trusty sheath got wet enough to create such damage. Thankfully the other oboist had a knife which she allowed me to borrow to beat one my temperamental children back into submission - they don't like changing weather.

Once I returned I re-examined the damage. The butt of the knife was not bothered, just the tip and up the edge. I attempted to see how the sharpness was badly affected, and oh it was. Unless I could somehow remove the rust, Landwell would become nearly useless. I took paper towels and an old handkerchief I often use to wipe my knives and tried to rub as much as I could off. It only served to turned the handkerchief rust colored and tear the paper towel apart. What could remove rust from metal? What could be strong enough to pull the rust from knife? Then it hit me - steel wool. Steel wool mixed with strong soap - Brillo pads.


It couldn't hurt, right? The knife was pretty much destroyed at this point anyways, so why not at least try? It didn't remove every speck of rust, but it got rid of the worst of it. Granted, the metal that the rust ate through is gone, but it looked a lot better. I spent a bit of time sharpening it, and then tried using it. SUCCESS! Its not as perfect as it once was, but its actually usable now.

My only fear is that I may not have gotten every bit of the Brillo soap off the knife, transfer the soap to my reed and poison myself. But I figured if I've lived through all the sharpening stone oil and nail polish I've ingested over the years, a little Brillo soap probably won't kill me!

Introductions

First Blog! Who am I? What is this? Why do I play this confounded instrument? Why do I exist?

The first two are easily answered, the third a bit more challenging and the last one... I leave that one to philosophy majors.

I'm currently in the thirteenth year of my relationship with my lovely oboe. Over the years, I've picked up various pieces of information and techniques which I would love to share with the oboe community at large. Perhaps I will even discover new ways to solve my own problems.

My first Oboe Yoda was the amazing Cheryl Priebe Bishkoff. She is the person I blame for the love I now have for this amazing yet annoying instrument. I started in fifth grade with her and continued studying with her through high school and even a few years after that.

My second Oboe Yoda is Dr. Sarah Hamilton of SUNY Fredonia, known fondly by the music department as Doc. She is the person I blame for the love I have of finding new or obscure music for the instrument.

My other love in life is coffee. We started a relationship about ten years ago, and while it is not as tumultuous as the previously mentioned, it is easily as important. Without coffee, how else would I be able to spend hours slaving over my child-like reeds, bending them to my will? How else would I spend days scouring the web, looking for new pieces, new concepts and help for all my struggles?

While these relationships are very different, both are equally important to my survival and life. As crazy as they make me, I wouldn't change them for the world. Seriously, who needs a boyfriend when you've got the oboe to fight with?