violinist sessions

Being a violinist

PROS:
•good finger dexterity

•tiny fingers

•toned arms (especially if you play fiddle music like damn)

•beautiful instrument

•you’re automatically smart if you play the violin. don’t ask why. it’s apparently a stereotype. just go with it.

•kids love you regardless. play something they recognize and they will love you.

•backpack cases

•you develop good hand-eye coordination and enhanced muscle memory

•covers sound 10000000x better when they’re played on violin. 100% confirmed by scientists.

•you get gigs VERY often when you’re for hire (seriously when did people get so demanding for violinists/fiddlers?)

•jam sessions!!!

•dexterity in fingers = 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼

•music stores are your best friend

•electric violins are BAD ASS.

•violins are so diverse. they can be in jazz, bluegrass, classical, blues, swing, folk, gypsy, burlesque, ragtime, and basically every style of music.

•good vibrato sounds like heaven

•just basically a fun instrument to play. seriously.


CONS:
•calluses. calluses. calluses.

•HICKEYS. Hickeys. Yes they are a thing, don’t look at me like that.

•*shoulder rest decides to fly out from instrument while playing*

•backache. arm ache. backache. fingers are sore. neck is sore. everything hurts.

•"Can you play Beethoven?“

•don’t even bother going anywhere with customs. they’ll hold you back because your instrument case looks "suspicious”.

•*bridge decides to snap out from under strings while practicing*

•"Can you play Devil Went Down to Georgia?“

•no matter how hard you try to make that fourth octave C sound pretty, it’s still going to sound like you stuck a fork up a baby bird’s ass.

•"can you teach me how to play it?”

•doesn’t matter if you rosin your bow; slurring to the open E string will make a godawful squeaking noise.

•"I promise I won’t break it"

•watching movies/TV with a violinist makes you cringe because it’s obvious they’re not a real violinist. (seriously, when they’re playing whole note open G they’re playing eighth notes on the E string. what the fuck.)

•"I thought violin and fiddle were two different instruments!“

•that song may sound cool, but don’t bother learning it when it’s in the key of C#.

•up bow. down bow. down bow. up bow. down bow. up bow. down bow. Wait, fuck. *erase*

•"no, I did not slaughter a horse to make my own violin bow.”

•that soreness in your wrist is from your countless attempts to perfect that vibrato. oops.

•tuner? check. shoulder rest? check. mute? check. rosin? check. bows? check. instrument in tune? check. sheet music? check. Advil? yes.

•you’re automatically a stuck-up snob if you play violin. that’s also a stereotype. don’t ask why. I have no idea.

•when your string breaks, it’s the equivalent to having your life flash before your eyes.

•electric violins and their equipment are worth your entire bank account. js.

•"play this song! right now!“

•*bow hits microphone stand*

•"sorry, I couldn’t hear you since my instrument is always in my ear.”

•everything hurts.

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La Dispute - “Nine”

I recall once on the church steps,

When I moved to kiss your chest,

How we paid such close attention

To each sweet and stuttered breath,

I should’ve stopped to paint our picture,

Captured honest pure affection,

Just to document the difference between attraction and connection.

I can see all of my friends and I break into empty buildings,

When the coast was clear,

With backpacks full of beer,

We’d throw our bottles from the rooftops

At this city-it looked endless.

Guess I still don’t see the difference between real purpose and that urgent adolescence.

And I remember in a basement sharing sweat

With all these stranger boys and girls,

“We’ll change the world!”

We sang, “We’ll change the world!”

But,

Nothing seems to change and

They say none of them will listen,

But I still see much more power in that basement than in heartless politicians.

And if we get beaten by this winter,

If we get strangled by regret, just Let our love of life and tension  

Gasp in sweet and stuttered breaths, and

Have them lay us in a basement,

Smash some bottles on the ground, and

Say we couldn’t tell the difference between the feeling and the sound.

Remember not our faulty pieces, Remember not our rusted parts,

It’s not the petty imperfections that define us but

The way we hold our hearts,

And the way we hold our heads,

I hope they write your names beside mine on my gravestone when I’m dead.

And when we’re dead let our voices carry on

To find a better song.

To find a better song and sing along.

Nine (Violinist Sessions)
La Dispute
Nine (Violinist Sessions)

I recall once on the church steps, when I moved to kiss your chest, how we paid such close attention to each sweet and stuttered breath.

I should’ve stopped to paint our picture, captured honest pure affection, just to document the difference between attraction and connection.

I can see all of my friends and I break into empty buildings, when the coast was clear, with backpacks full of beer. We’d throw our bottles from the rooftops, at this city-it looked endless.

Guess I still don’t see the difference between real purpose and that urgent adolescence.

And I remember in a basement sharing sweat with all these stranger boys and girls, we’ll change the world!” We sang, we’ll change the world!” But, nothing seems to change and they say none of them will listen, but I still see much more power in that basement than in elected politicians.

And if we get beaten by this winter, If we get strangled by regret, just let our love of life and tension gasp in sweet and stuttered breaths, and have them lay us in a basement, smash some bottles on the ground, and say we never knew the difference between the feeling and the sound.

Remember not our faulty pieces, remember not our rusted parts, it’s not the petty imperfections that define us but the way we hold our hearts, and the way we hold our heads, I hope they write your names beside mine on my gravestone when I’m dead.

And when we’re dead let our voices carry on, to find a better song. To find a better song and sing along

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Remember not our faulty pieces,
Remember not our rusted parts,
It’s not the petty imperfections that define us but
The way we hold our hearts,
And the way we hold our heads,

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Amanda Palmer (feat. Neil Gaiman) “In My Mind” Violinist Sessions

This is why I love this couple

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Nine | La Dispute (Violinist Sessions)

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La Dispute - a Departure

from the Violinist Sessions