where's the cello!

The instruments when they're about to graduate
  • Flute: cries at everything. hugs everyone goodbye, even the music stand
  • Oboe: at first they're not that sad, but then it ~hits them~ and they just start sobbing
  • Bassoon: doesn't even notice that its the end of senior year. they're just excited for school to be out
  • Clarinet: strangely sad about their math class being over
  • Saxophone: gives the director the middle finger on their way out the door
  • Trumpet: will not fucking shut up about college
  • Trombone: finds the incoming seniors to make sure they keep the weird section traditions alive
  • Horn: *gross sobbing*
  • Euphonium: frantically trying to not fail english
  • Tuba: reassures school tuba that they love it. hugs tuba.
  • Percussion: pranks the band director
  • Violin: living embodiment of "i'm not crying, you are"
  • Viola: brings director chocolates and heartfelt thank you card
  • Cello: stays late in the orchestra room to soak in the ~aesthetic~
  • Bass: lol bye see ya suckers

I saw a performance of the elgar cello concerto today, and there’s this one part where the cello section plays in unison with the solo, and the whole time the soloist was looking proudly over at the section like a dad realizing he’s raised his children well and it was so pure

when your section doesn’t follow your lead

Originally posted by bruisette

anonymous asked:

Lipstick + solangelo?

Omgs this is gonna be fun….. >:D


Lot’s of things happen at parties. Some good, some bad. Sometimes you can be tricked with a false sense of security, only to have the rug ripped out from underneath you.

That’s how it was for Nico di Angelo, five feet and four inches of lonely sadness, bundled up in your average fourteen year old.

The biggest problem with Nico was that everyone was scared to get close to him. He was one of those people born with a warning label on his head that screamed, “DANGER!! STAY AWAY!!” Of course that label only became louder when his mom died, then later his sister, leaving him with no one. But nobody even knew as they shrunk against the walls as Nico walked the halls of the old, rundown school. They left him in his dark scary place of a world…. except one.

Keep reading

sunn-flower-too  asked:

Hi friend. What's your favorite musical instrument? (Either to play or to listen to) I can't play any, but I really love the sound of the cello and bass guitars. Their 'noise' resonates with me and sounds soulful and deep. Thoughts?

I, unfortunately, am not talented enough to understand how instruments or music work whatsoever adjk

HOWEVER
I just recently discovered the existence of an electric cello and WOW. I adore how it sounds?? Very pretty!

Listening to the Wonder Woman soundtrack in the hopes that it will get my muse pumped enough to finish ‘Begin Where it Ends’.  

That electric cello…

Mmmmmm

Day 1 of the 100 Days of Practice- Spend the bulk of this day working on a new Etude, Popper #4 which is super difficult! This is a timelapse of me working on the first 2 systems, later that day I worked on the first movement of Brahms E Minor sonata. 


For this challenge, I’ll be posting the day after each practice session- so this is from Thursday. Also, I will most likely not do 100 days in a row, at least they won’t be in a row at first because I’ll be touring Spain soon where our cellos are only available in the hall. 

An airline tried to get a musician to check her 17th-century violin. A ‘wrestling match’ ensued.

By Cleve R. Wootson Jr., Washington Post, June 6, 2017

For the small fraternity of people who make their living coaxing musical notes out of vulnerable pieces of wood and metal, few things are more terrifying than seeing an expensive, defenseless instrument disappear on that little conveyor belt at the airport.

Horror stories abound. A musician checked his $45,000, 75-year-old cello, which airport workers promptly placed beneath somebody’s golf clubs, snapping its neck. A noted German soloist said airport workers roughed up his cello case. After his flight, he found his $20,000 bow broken in half. A Florida State University music student on a flight to Tallahassee found splinters of wood where her cello used to be.

Those stories and many, many more have converged into an unwritten musicians’ rule: Never trust an airline with your instrument.

So when a Houston-based gate agent at United Airlines told Yennifer Correia that she would have to check her 17th-century violin, which costs more than her car, the first words out of her mouth were: “What are my other options?”

The situation soured from there, her attorney says, resulting in what is becoming another black eye for an airline industry that dragged a bleeding man off an overbooked flight this spring and allegedly booted a family from a flight over a birthday cake.

Correia, a classical violinist on her way to play in the summer season at the Missouri Symphony Orchestra, asked for an airport supervisor. But the supervisor said there were no other options. The violin had to be checked.

Her attorney, Phil MacNaughton, recounted what happened from there. Correia told the supervisor, “I can’t not take my violin on board. I’ll pay the money. I’ll take another flight. Just tell me what I can do.”

As the altercation intensified, Correia told the agents that she would appeal to their bosses and asked the supervisor for her name, MacNaughton said. The supervisor said she wanted Correia’s name and reached for the tag on her luggage.

“Without provocation, the supervisor for the Chicago-based carrier then lunged for Ms. Correia’s case and, incredibly, tried to wrestle it away from the musician,” said a statement written by MacNaughton.

“I start screaming, ‘Help, help, help, can somebody record what’s happening because this lady’s trying to take my personal suitcase from me,’” Correia told Houston NBC-affiliate KPRC.

The supervisor said she was going to call security, and Correia apparently responded, “Please do.” Then the supervisor dashed off. That was the last Correia saw of her.

During the scuffle, MacNaughton said, Correia’s hand was injured. She doesn’t believe there is permanent damage, but she went to see a hand specialist “because the stakes are high.”

MacNaughton said someone from United left a voice mail on Correia’s phone. He asked that anyone who had a video recording of the confrontation contact him.

“Why can’t these people be polite?” MacNaughton said. “I’m sure that’s what their CEO is wondering. It’s like kind of everybody knows if you’re frustrated with a surgeon, you don’t grab their hands. This [supervisor] was willing to get in a wrestling match over a violin.”

Other recent confrontations involving airlines have stoked outrage: pilots hitting passengers and passengers brawling with each other and police. In late April, a Delta Air Lines passenger said he was kicked off a plane for using the restroom.

Musicians should have it a little easier, in theory. Federal law requires airports to accommodate musicians who want to carry their instruments with them in the airplane’s cabin. MacNaughton said he’s not certain whether United officials violated that law.

Either way, Correia was looking to put the incident behind her and get to Missouri.

She booked a flight for Tuesday on American Airlines instead of United–and carried her violin the whole time.

one tiny little thing from the book that i want to see more people talking about: the fact that fili and kili play the fiddle. or rather, the violin.

fili and kili play the violin.

can you imagine dis shouting at them to practice. dis carting them off to violin lessons. can you imagine the poor violin tutor who has to teach these two.

fili and kili play the violin. why isn’t this talked about more

anonymous asked:

honestly,,. can you just hit us with a small (or big idk whatever amount of effort u wanna put into this) list of bassian headcanons like even just simple and domestic lil things. thanks even if u dont respond honestly im just neck fuckin deep in this ship!

yes!! i love this!!
bodhi is always correcting people’s grammar and cassian always pointedly glares at him when he says “and i”.
an orchestra au where bodhi plays the cello and he gets those marks on his neck and cassian like “caused by cassian or bodhis cello?? the world may never know”
cassian sings to bodhi all the time and bodhis just “fuck i love my nerd boyfriend.”
bodhi and cassian are really drunk and they’re in a park and bodhi picks a leaf off a tree and gives it to cassian like “this is ur leaf” and he actually keeps it.
bodhi is autistic!! (i really love this one)
they’re a promise ring couple
okay but bodhi and cassian laying in a truck bed at night looking at the stars?? amazing.
bodhi wants a dog but cassian wants a cat and bodhis main argument is “k2 is just a seven foot tall cat, we don’t need another one!!”
they always bicker over trivial things
“cassian ask directions”
“I DONT NEED TO ASK DIRECTIONS!!”
that’s all i have right now, thank you for this ask!!

It Takes Two Pt I

It’s a change. For everyone. For himself. 
He graduates. His parents are proud. His friends are dead, or empty. His trust fund is full. Life is fine. But, fine is boring, and Draco Malfoy has never been boring.

‘Sign here.’ He lifts the plum feathered quill, dipping it in a deep, gold ink. A few droplets spill onto the edge, but he manages to scrawl his name onto the dotted line. The scroll wraps into itself, flipping up into nothingness. Joseph Melus, an older man in his hundred and twenties, owned a shop, just in the heart of Knockturn Alley. It was antique, quaint, dusty, and a complete shit box. 
Draco bought it in a heartbeat.
He huffed a breath of release, slamming the last box onto the floor. His head tilts back, baby blue eyes following the shop’s spiral staircase. It was seven storey building. He combed his moon dusted locks back with a skeleton hand, back bones cracking as he rolled his spine. The place even smelled like shit. With a flick of the wrist, a layer of dusted rose from every corner and crevice, each nook and cranny spotless. He guided the dirt and grime to the entrance, flicking the door open and throwing the filth into the street. The patrons wouldn’t mind, anyway. He rolls the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows, his calves flexing as he rises to his tippy toes. He’s always done this. Stretching. His mother once said he resembled a cat, climbing to high places and disgustingly entitled. The nickname ‘kitten’ stuck.
Floor One- the parlor. purpose: charm customers into a purchase
Floor Two- strings. polishes. equipment. customary care for an instrument
Floor Three- accessories for the musician. 
Floor Four- wind. where to store the flutes, recorders, hand held devices
Floor Five- stringed music. where to store violins, cellos, etc.
Floor Six- pianos
Floor Seven- private.
With one last creaking step, he walked onto the seventh floor, to the untrained eye, a blank canvas. Yet, as Draco took his wand, waving it into the barren abyss, an apartment came into view. It was quaint. A small, French-inspired kitchen, a pull-out sofa, and a muggle telly. Narcissa would have been horrified. However, this small loft had a piece de resistance. A Steinway grande. A graduation present. He had played since he was a small boy. In your average aristocratic household, the children (in this case, child) is accustomed to the arts. Literature, painting, music, its a luxury. Its one the Malfoys could certainly afford. His spindly fingers stretched into an octave, digging into two A’s, G sharps, landing onto a low C sharp. It was Rachmaninov’s masterpiece. Bony arms fell across the air, a Prelude falling down seven flights. His heart is pumping, eyes misting, soul plunging into ivory keys. He’s about to begin the recap, when-
‘You’re good.’
He physically jumped, sanctuary tarnished.
‘Who are you?’
He turned on the bench to find a (short/tall) girl, no older than himself, with her h/c hair into a tight ponytail. Maniacal strands flew in odd directions. It reminded him of his auntie, may she rest in hell.
I’m here for a job.’ Draco scoffed, slamming the lid of the piano. ‘Not hiring.’ ‘Of course you’re hiring. You don’t expect to run this place by yourself, do you?’ He stood up, smacking his wand against the air, vanishing the habitat. ‘That’s exactly what I plan to do.’ An optimist, she crossed her arms, leaning over the railing of the staircase, eyes scanning down the floors. ‘It needs a woman’s touch.’ He crossed towards the steps, knobby knees knackering down the floors. ‘Your touch is free to feel the door. You know the way out.’ Harnessing the bravery of Gryffindor, the creativity of Ravenclaw, the determination of Hufflepuff, and the ambition of Slytherin, she followed him to the floor. 
‘You’re a gemini.’ He rolled his eyes, stepping behind the mahogany counter. ‘Been spending too much time in Trelawney’s, have you?’ ‘You’re a gemini, and you like chocolate.’ ‘Specific.’ She marched up to him, staring him in the eyes. ‘You absolutely hate curry, your favorite colour is blue, you have a tradition of writing your mother the fifth of every month, and you’re a cat person.’ His pupils dilated, but she could tell he was wary. She continued. ‘You don’t like me because I remind you of someone from the past. You don’t like your father because you are exactly alike, and your biggest fear is of utter isolation, yet you think that by being a loner, you’re conquering that fear, when in reality, you know you are only seeing it through, kitten.’ 

She started work on Monday.