The end result for an oboist is a couple-inch-long reed that sounds like the squawk of a terrified bird (technically called the “crow”) but, when attached to the instrument, somehow becomes the impossibly pure tone of the oboe. If you hear a beautiful oboe, rest easy, for it’s a happy musician. If it sounds sharp or lacks that effortless quality, make haste, for the oboist is upset, and who knows what someone with these sorts of obsessive tendencies is capable of.
… and I love the rest of the article too.
And now I really have to work on reeds. I’ve been telling myself ALL week that I have to wind some and get a a batch going. Instead I worked on some “blanks” (reeds that are wound but not carved) that I just knew were bad (sometimes you can just tell that the cane is crummy). Maybe if I publicly tell all of you that I have to work on reeds I really will.
I will work on reeds. I will work on reeds. Really. I will. I will work on reeds. I will. I will. REEDS. It’s time. I will work on reeds. Really. I will work on reeds. I will work on reeds. Really. I will. I will. REEDS. It’s time. REEDS. REEDS. REEDS. I will. REEDS. I will. REEDS. It’s time. It’s time. It’s time. It’s time. Really. Really. REEDS.
Sorry. It’s just so much more fun to play around with words than it is to play around with cane. Trust me on this. But … well … I will work on reeds. It’s time.
Um. I hope.
Time will tell!
