Tag: performing

Organizing

I had been thinking that I might be moving towards not being an
organizer for a while. The thing that started this line of
thought was the number of places I’ve been (including NEFFA without bringing flyers for the Cantabile
Band.

But this week has refined that perception. I’ve done two
competent pieces of organizing (see below), and so I think the
problem with the Cantabile Band is that at this point in its
life it’s starting to need a different kind of organizing than
that flyer represents, so I haven’t been feeling like printing
off the flyer and taking it places.

Meeting

The first piece of organizing I did this week was the next
condo meeting. This could have been a pretty routine thing, not
requiring any special organizer gifts. But I decided to address a
long-term problem of the association: a lawyer bought a unit in
the building 15 years ago, and he read the rules to say that
nobody who wasn’t an owner should come to the owners’ meetings.
This has effectively disfranchised the one absentee owner, who
would have liked to send her property manager as a
representative. There are also
units where the owner has a roommate or partner who isn’t named
on the deed but who might be a good person to do some of the condo work. Since it’s only an eight unit building, and
there are always some owners who aren’t willing or able to
contribute, having even one unit that could be contributing and
isn’t makes extra work for the people who are.

I have in the past tried to get the rule clarified so that
owners could send representatives and roommates could come, but haven’t gotten any
support for that.

So my strategy this time was to concede the point about owners’
meetings being only for owners. The rules require one owners’
meeting a year, for the purpose of electing 4 trustees, who have
the power to make most of the decisions without necessarily
consulting the other owners. We had that meeting in April.

So instead of organizing an owners’ meeting, I organized a
meeting of the trustees, to which other residents and owners’
representatives are invited to come. I got all the other
trustees to buy into doing it this way, so that if the lawyer
decides to complain about it, I should be able to depend on some
support.

Newsletter

The other piece of organizing (still not completed) was to
revive the newsletter of the Homebrew Club.

This used to be an important organizing tool for the club,
which came out every month, and if you were trying to organize
an event, you knew you had to write it up for the editor (who
knew he had to twist your arm to write it up before the
deadline).

The club went through a rough patch a couple of years ago, and
got out of the habit of recruiting an newsletter editor every
month. We’ve
has been adding new members pretty regularly over the last year
or so. But of course, they aren’t members who know about
writing up their proposed events for the newsletter, or
volunteering to be the editor and twisting the arms of people
who were organizing events.

So we’ve had a committee to revive the newsletter, and I
foolishly volunteered to be the new editor. I figured this week
would be a good week to do it, because all my performing
commitments would be over, and it wouldn’t yet be time for the
Boston Early Music
Festival.

I’d done what used to be the normal thing, of sending out a
request for articles as soon as I got the editor job, and
reiterating the request a few days before the deadline. That
didn’t produce very many articles.

I was feeling like I might be getting too old for this
business, because there was a meeting last week that I just
didn’t have the energy to go to. Or rather, if I’d saved the
energy for that, I would have done less practicing for the recital, and that was the priority.

But yesterday I looked at what I had (the original deadline had
been Monday), and wrote a post nagging the people whose stuff
was still missing, and for some reason, this turned out to be a
better description of what the newsletter could be than my much
more general request for articles.

So I now have several articles that I hadn’t explicitly
solicited, and the promise of a couple more by tomorrow or
Sunday.

Band

I’ll write up why the Cantabile Band probably needs different
organizing now than it did a couple of years ago later.

Student Recital

My recorder teacher, John
Tyson, had his annual student recital on Saturday.

This year, we played in a charming little auditorium in the
Morse School, one of the Cambridge public schools.

Program

John teaches a wide range of students, from a doctor who’s
close to a complete beginner, to conservatory students who are
ready to give full-length concerts.

The usual arrangement for a student recital is to put the
less-experienced performers on first, on the grounds that they’re
more nervous, and also so as not to have a beginner playing right
after a virtuoso performance. That got modified a bit this time,
for two reasons:

  • All the students who were being accompanied by John’s wife,
    harpsichordist Miyuki Tsurutani, had to be programmed at the
    end, because she had prior commitments that meant she didn’t
    arrive until almost an hour into the program.
  • There were two composers, Loeillet and Marcello, who were
    represented by two sonatas, and John programmed them so that the
    sonatas would be adjacent to each other.

My performance

The result of that was actually quite favorable placement for
my piece. I was playing a Loeillet sonata with my sister, Judith Conrad, on harpsichord, and the other
person playing Loeillet has only been taking recorder lessons
for a year or so. (He’s been playing piano for years, so he
isn’t actually an inexperienced performer or musician, but he
hasn’t been playing recorder for long enough to be able to make
the amount of difference between an Allegro and an Adagio that a
better player can. Sonatas are really more interesting when the
fast movements are faster than the slow movements.) So I was the first of the more
experienced players to play, after the audience had heard almost
as much intermediate recorder playing as they wanted to.

I played well. I’ve been doing a lot of performing this year,
and it’s been good for getting consistent breath support. I
also finally figured out this spring how hands my size can hold
an alto recorder without having the wrists in a tortured, bent
position, so that makes it possible to have my fingers almost as
relaxed on a 415 alto as they are playing dance music on a
soprano. And I spent the spring doing articulation exercises
while I walked the dog, so I’m finally in a position to play the
fast movements faster than they used to be. And the space was
really very friendly to the alto recorder/harpsichord sound.

My sister, who is a professional keyboard player with a real
flair for continuo, also played well. Unfortunately, we had
only run the whole piece once, and it was before I figured out
how I wanted to play it. Of course someone who’s a professional
accompanist can adjust to an interpretation she’s never heard
pretty fast, but it probably wasn’t fast enough to really carry
off some of the false endings and free tempos I had planned.

So I told people I wished my sister and I had had more time to
rehearse before performing. John said he didn’t think it
mattered; that you could tell it was two intelligent musicians
doing really cool stuff, even if not quite the same cool stuff.
He did say how impressed he was with my poise.

The rest of the evening

The disadvantage of using this space is that the modest fee
John paid to rent it only covered three hours, including
harpsichord setup and takedown time. The penultimate group was three New
England Conservatory students, including Ching-Wei Lin, John’s
most advanced student, playing the Dieupart Cinquieme
Suite in F. They had to cut it short, and play only the
first three movements. If you were considering this as a concert
that would have been the wrong place to make the cut. Of course,
considering it as a performing opportunity for people who don’t
always have as much chance to play for an audience as they should
for the amount of work they do, it was exactly the right thing to
cut, since they have all kinds of opportunities to perform.

But most of the players and their families could go over to
John and Miyuki’s house for a very good party, including jazz and
rock improvisations by the assembled.

Fortepiano Concert

The HIP (Historically Informed Performance) movement has been
moving steadily into the nineteenth and even twentieth
centuries. I was aware that there was enough difference in
orchestral instruments and their style of playing for this to be
interesting for orchestral works. And of course, singing and
playing music in the size hall it was designed for can be a lot
more satisfying than in a space designed to seat two or three
orders of magnitude more people than the composers and original
performers envisioned.

However, it wasn’t until last Sunday that I really realized
that the nineteenth century piano repertoire could benefit from
HIP.

The Loring Greenough House in Jamaica Plain, built in 1760, has
a Longman and Broderip square piano built in about 1800. I heard
a concert played on this piano last sunday by Judith Conrad.

The first two thirds or so of the concert was what I expect
from fortepianists — eighteenth century music where the
composers clearly expected non-equal temperaments and the piano
was playing in ensemble with instruments like the baroque flute
that hadn’t yet been engineered to play in a modern concert
hall. I particularly enjoyed the Haydn Flute sonata, ably
played by baroque flutist Michael Shand.

The fugues of Antonin Reicha, who straddled the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries, also benefited from the shorter reverb
times and more intimate tone of the earlier instrument.

But then they switched to Mendelssohn. I grew up hearing
pieces like the Mendelssohn Songs without Words
played on a Steinway, and it hadn’t really occurred to me that
they too would benefit from the more intimate sound of the
earlier instrument. It’s clearly music for the living room and
not the concert hall, but I hadn’t realized that it was for a
living room with a cute little piano that plays thirds that are
consonances and gets out of the way of singers and instruments
who are trying to make music with it instead of dominating
them.

Another HIP aspect of this performance was that the audience
was invited to sing along on vocal works that complemented the
performance. I personally find this adds a lot to my ability to concentrate on other people’s music for two hours.

Unfortunately, the first Sunday in May is a terrible time to
play a concert, because you have to share your audience with all
the other people who are trying to play concerts then. So this one
drew 9 people and was probably doing well in comparison to some
other events. I would suggest that most performers whose rehearsal
schedules aren’t tied to the academic calendar should avoid concerts in
December and May.

Another picture from the Walk for Hunger

It’s far too late to do a real post, so here’s another picture
from the Walk for Hunger:

[Sunny, Ishmael, Laura, Paul, Anne]

The photographer was Ishmael Stefanov (left) by time delay.

One of the performers, who didn’t read any preliminary play
lists, and still didn’t really have his notebook in
order at the actual performance, told me yesterday that we should have done a
completely different kind of program.

This is probably why the great conductors never socialize with
the orchestra.

Walk for Hunger, 2009


[walk for hunger 2009]

We had good weather for what we were doing. There were a
couple of raindrops at about noon, and a few more at 2:30, when
the other group was playing, but the clouds made it easier to
see the music, and it was close to t-shirt weather. (I had warm
underwear under mine; otherwise I would have been wearing a
sweater.)

We were worried about whether the pieces with just vocals would
carry to where the walkers could hear them, and they certainly
didn’t carry as well as the recorders or the brass or string
instruments, but I checked while Ishmael and Anne were playing a
duet, and you could certainly hear that it was happening, so you
could go closer if you wanted to hear better.

Of course, the ipod generation doesn’t believe it’s music if
you have to move to hear it. We’ve been asked several times
playing at picnics why we couldn’t just amplify what we were
doing so they didn’t have to move.

I’ve looked into amplification, and my impression is that even
when I was younger and stronger, anything light enough for me to
carry sounds pretty tinny. And of course, for this application,
we’d need something that ran on batteries, which increases the
weight.

The serpent was a big hit, as was Paul Ukleja’s trumpet
rendition of Stardust Memories.

We needed to ask Paul to play some solos to give us breaks in
the morning, because the only group we could find couldn’t start
playing until 1 PM. They had 6 recorder players and a violinist,
and played very well out of an anthology of Elizabethan
music.

For breaks from the singing, Paul, Ishmael, and I played
Country Dance music, and found a few things that really worked
pretty well with fiddle, recorder, and serpent.

I decided to do all the performing standing up, so the serpent
was resting on a 24 inch stool, which seems to allow it to
vibrate more freely than when it’s supported on my legs. I
think I’ll make a point of performing that way in the future.
But I think I’ve said that in the past, too.

Walk for Hunger Retrospective

This is usually my big performance of the year. I gave the
details in my Cantabile Band
post yesterday. For this one, I thought I’d dredge up
some pictures from previous Walks.

I’m certainly not going to have time to post tomorrow morning.
I may post to the spindle later today, or I may wait until I get
home with a picture and post that.

2008

This was last year. The real performance was when we played
for Bonnie in her hospital room. This one was dampened by both
rain and Bonnie dying; one performer had done dropin rehearsals,
and another performer had another event to go to and dropped in
for the first set but had left before this set. The rain actually
stopped by noon, but I don’t think most of us remember it that
way. We did a lot of trios, some of which we’re repeating this
year; I hope it’s more cheerful to sing about walking over hills
an dales and birds singing.

[walk08]

2007

The year before may have been a high point of some sort. We
did a performance of a lot of the same repertoire at the Boston Recorder
Society Play the Recorder Day, and really knew things pretty
well. People had learned some things about how to secure music
and stands from the wind the previous year.

[walk07]

2006

2006 was the year we played at the Jeremiah
Ingalls festival in Vermont, so we put a bunch of shape note
stuff on the program. I think it was an entertaining program if
you liked both listening to music and watching musicians run up
and down the riverbank chasing their music.

[walk06]

2005

2005 was another year it rained, although, again, it really
cleared up pretty well by the time we were playing. But the viol
player didn’t want to get her instrument out, and a less
experienced performer freaked out when I suggested switching some
parts so that I could play bass on the serpent. It wasn’t even
her part I wanted to switch — it was the person she was standing
next to. So now there’s language in the FAQ
about how in a dropin group you have to be prepared to be either
one-on-a-part or not one-on-a-part.

[walk05]

2004

2004 was the year of the best professional coperformers.
It was really hot and two very good recorder players came and
played duets and lots of people stopped to listen to them.

[walk04]

2003

This was a big band performance. I think I made everybody come
to at least one rehearsal, but not necessarily enough rehearsals
for them to have learned the music. And it was a big enough crowd
that it was hard to hear. I think it wasthe year we started having
other groups to help us out, but I got several groups, only some
of whom showed up when and where they were supposed to.

[walk03]

2002

This was a big band where not everybody came to a rehearsal,
and nobody could hear anything from the other end of the group.
It might have been the first year we had the whole day to cover,
and I pretended we could do it with solos, and people had the idea
they should be able to walk to the bathroom (a mile or so away)
between sets. I opened my big mouth at dinner afterwards about
how to run a recorder society, and
that’s how I got stuck doing it for a while.

[walk02]

Previous

2001 was the year I founded the Cantabile Renaissance Band.
For two or three years previous to that, I had a fairly good
recorder trio, and we just bought some of the books of recorder
arrangements we knew pretty well and played. I think we were only
covering two hours, and we met regularly anyway without random
people dropping in. The biggest problem I remember was that if
the wind came up and you were facing the wrong direction, the
sound didn’t come out of the tenor recorder. A recorder group
that meets regularly really makes more sense in this context than
the crazy stuff we do now, but I don’t have one of those, and I
don’t know many people who do.

Memorizing Poetry

This
essay by Jim Holt about memorizing poetry in the New York Times Book Review reminded me of the way
I got through all the standardized tests when I was in high school.

The advice about test taking skills said to never go back and
have second thoughts, and I was a fast enough reader that I would
often have as much as 10 minutes after I’d gone through and
recorded my first thoughts. My family was impressed when I
memorized poetry (not to the point of paying for it), and I’d been
at the tail end of when you could impress a teacher by doing it,
so I knew several fairly long poems by heart, so I would use the
ten minutes to recite them.

I knew The Raven and The Bells by
Edgar Allen Poe, and The Man against the Sky by
Edwin Arlington Robinson, and lots of Robert Frost and Emily Dickinson.

I don’t do this often enough these days that I can still keep
the order of all the similar but different stanzas straight, but I
do remember enough to while away a few minutes waiting for a train
or bus.

Jim Holt says he now memorizes a couple of lines of poetry a
day, and has learned lots of good poems since he started doing
this. I briefly considered doing that, but my life still hasn’t
settled down from trying to post to this blog every day (the house
cleaning and the publishing are both suffering), so I won’t take it
up just now.

But if you’re someone who’s worrying about your memory
declining with age, this seems like a better way to exercise it
than some of the games people play for that purpose.

Opening Day

There are lots of events that can signal the start of
Spring:

Astronomical Spring, or the Vernal Equinox,when the Sun is
overhead at noon on the Equator. The news media tells you about
this, but the actual lengthening of the day has been evident for
some time when it happens. This happened a couple of weeks ago.

Local astronomical, when the sun gets high enough while it’s
still in the east to peep
through my northeast bedroom windows. By the calendar, this has
probably happened, but it’s been cloudy enough, and I’ve been
waking up late enough, that it hasn’t actually bothered me yet.
(This is an unwelcome sign of Spring — I love having sunny rooms
once I’m up and about, but I prefer the bedroom to stay dark until
I’m ready for sunshine.)

Local bureaucratic Spring, when the Cambridge Department of
Public Works starts picking up yard waste in specially marked
bins. This starts this week; tomorrow in my neighborhood.

Religious Spring, Easter in my case. Next Sunday. Less useful
than some of the others for complaining about the weather being
cold this year, since it’s a movable feast.

Athletic Spring, here in Boston Opening Day for the Red Sox, or
in particularly bad years, the Boston Marathon a couple of weeks
later. Yesterday was Opening Day, and it was a good one.

The game was a particularly good one, with the right team
winning, but the other team playing well. All the things you were
hoping for from the Red Sox players happened:

  • Josh Beckett, the ace pitcher, was the dominant force of two
    years ago instead of the experienced but struggling pitcher of
    most of last year.
  • Mike Lowell, whose injured hip made him painful to watch the
    end of last season, hit a standup double and didn’t look
    uncomfortable at all.
  • Jason Varitek, one of the games great pitcher-handling
    catchers, hit a home run. He was struggling offensively all
    last year, and was batting ninth.
  • David Ortiz hit a single and drew a walk, and looked like he
    was having fun hitting again. Most of last year, he was
    struggling with an injury, and didn’t.
  • Dustin Pedroia hit a home run. After being rookie of the
    year two years ago and MVP last year, he still looks like he
    can’t quite believe he’s in the big leagues.
  • Jed Lowrie, the new shortstop, made several good plays.
  • Jonathan Papelbon did his usual thing, getting three outs
    quickly in the ninth inning.

The winning margin would have been even bigger if Tampa Bay
hadn’t made some good plays — I particularly remember one by the
the first baseman, Carlos Pena, stabbing a hard-hit ground ball on
the way by him for an unassisted play at first base.

The ceremonies are always fun — the planes fly by in formation
just at the end of the National Anthem; this year they had Senator
Kennedy throw out the first pitch. He also looked like he
couldn’t quite believe he was in the big leagues.

The Boston classical music establishment hit what seemed to me
a sour note — Keith Lockhart, in a Red Sox t-shirt, directed
members of the Boston Pops and Tanglewood Festival Chorus in
concert attire. They would have looked more like a team (and like
their audience) if they’d
all been wearing the t-shirts. What I like about Keith Lockhart
is that he does always look like he has the job he always wanted
when he was growing up.

Timeline of Bonnie’s death

One of the things I mean to do at some point during this year
of blogging every day is write a series of posts about what it was
like when a close friend suddenly became ill and died, and I ended
up with her health care proxy, power of attorney, and being the
executrix of her will. I felt unprepared for all these roles, and
maybe writing about how I did them will help someone else who has
to do it.

I’ve mentioned this in a couple of posts, but not started
organizing it in any way. So I thought the first step might be to
write about the timeline in which things happened.

October, 2007
Bonnie mentions that she’s sleeping about 14 hours a
day. I didn’t think anything about this until much later, but
if anyone else ever tells me something like that, I’ll remember
that it was the first sign that something was really wrong with
Bonnie.
November 11, 2007
Bonnie tells me that she’s having trouble breathing, as in
getting out of breath when she walks across a room. I urge her
to go to the doctor and have it checked out.
December 2, 2007
Bonnie arrives at rehearsal at my place, and sits on the top
of the front steps for a while to recover before going up the
flight of stairs to my apartment. If she had been a child, I
would have called an ambulance for her right then, but she not
only rehearsed, but went on to another meeting after the
rehearsal.
December 3, 2007
Bonnie has appointment with doctor, who suspects pulmonary
hypertension and schedules tests for a couple of weeks
later.
December 4, 2007
Bonnie fails to make a rehearsal (very unusual), and at
about midnight calls to say that she fainted in the bathroom,
has called the ambulance, and can I take care of her cats the
next day. She ends the conversation by saying, “If you don’t
hear from me, assume the worst.”
December 5, 2007
What I actually did this day is probably a full post, but
Bonnie called me very early in the morning saying that she was
at the Salem Hospital, had been diagnosed with blood clots in
the lungs, and could I get the cats taken care of and bring her
some stuff from her house.
December 28, 2007
Bonnie released from hospital, with a prescription for a
blood thinner and appointments with oncologists.
January 5, 2008
I had total hip replacement surgery on January 4, and Bonnie
visited me in the hospital on January 5. This is the last time
I saw her when she wasn’t in a hospital. I was getting a blood
transfusion, so I was probably actually in worse shape than she
was, although that’s debatable. She had stopped at my place and
dealt with the stairs, and then dealt with however many hospital
corriders there were to get to my room, so she looked pretty
tired.
January 7, 2008
This date is approximate; I was in the hospital and not on
email, so I don’t have a good record. But it was certainly
within a day or two. Bonnie was bleeding from the GI tract, so
she took the cats to the vet to be boarded and checked herself
into the Lahey Clinic hospital in Burlington.
Some time between the above and January 23
Bonnie was in the hospital without email, and I hadn’t yet
set up the list for regular updates to her friends, so that’s
why this date is so vague. They decided to treat the blood
clots by installing a filter in a major blood vessel so that
clots that formed in the lower half of her body wouldn’t reach
the heart, lungs, and brain. Almost immediately, the filter
clogged up, so the lower half of her body swelled up and it was
impossible to move her. Essentially she never left her bed
after this.
February 9, 2008
Several really upset phone calls from Bonnie. The medical
thing that happened apparently was that the cancer had eaten a
hole in her intestine and stuff was leaking out into the
abdominal cavity and causing infection. So they weren’t letting
her eat or drink, and she was pretty scared about the dying
thing. It is about this time that she rewrites her will and her
health care proxy and power of attorney, naming me, with Phyllis
as an alternate.
February 15, 2008
They tell Bonnie that she’s about to die, if she doesn’t
have risky surgery to fix her leaky intestine. She asks for the
surgery. This is the last time I talk to her on the phone. She
goes in for the surgery at about 3 PM, and at 10:30 the doctor
calls me to tell me that she came through the surgery, and that
they’ve removed some intestine and fixed the leaks, but that
there’s still a lot of cancer in there.
February 19, 2008
The lawyer and I agree that I should take power of
attorney. Bonnie is under heavy sedation and expected to
continue to be unconscious for at least a couple of weeks.
March 5, 2008
Bonnie seems conscious and may be trying to talk, but is
unsuccessful.
March 12, 2008
Phyllis and her husband and I meet with Bonnie’s doctor, who
tells us that she has a small number of months to live, and will
never be able to live independantly again. She is clearly able
ot understand what people say to her, but not to talk, or to
move her left side. The oncologists do not consider her a
candidate for further chemotherapy, but if the motion problems
are due to cancer in the brain, they might be able to do
radiation.
April 1, 2008
Bonnie bleeding from GI tract, needs transfusions. The
doctors want to know whether they should do an endoscopy or just
stop the blood thinning medication and hope that works.
April 4, 2008
Discussion of hospice care with palliative care doctor and
social worker. Several friends visit and play recorder
ensembles; Bonnie clearly enjoys this. The cats are delivered
to their new permanent home.
April 11, 2008
The Cantabile band meets at Bonnie’s room in the Lahey
Clinic and plays for over an hour. Bonnie is clearly enjoying
it, and asks (by gesture) for more several times. This may be
the last time she is really able to react to a group.
April 15, 2008
Bonnie moves to hospice. We have a conversation with the
hospice social worker about what she expects. She is quite
alert, and writing very clearly.
April 19, 2008
Bonnie is no longer strong enough to write legibly.
May 3, 2008
Group of shape note singers come sing for Bonnie. You can
imagine that she’s enjoying it, but she isn’t really responding
much.
May 9, 2008
The hospice nurse and I agree to discontinue the tube
feeding.
May 18, 2008
Bonnie dies.
May 24, 2008
Funeral

I’ll write another timeline about the executrix and POA stuff.
And of course lots of the above could be expanded. But usually
these posts take me less than an hour, and that was over two hours.

Transcribing from facsimile

It’s Tuesday, which means I have to get ready for the Cantabile
Band rehearsal, and I just finished guessing where to add time in
the parts for the facsimile I’m transcribing.

I had planned a nice post about my marathon train ride through
Germany, but it’s going to take until well past lunch to write,
and I have other things to take care of.

So that one goes on the spindle, and I’ll just tell you how
much I marvel that they ever got any part books right before there
were computers to take the notes from the parts and combine them
into a score for them.

It’s also surprising that the sixteenth century singers didn’t
care more that there were all those mistakes. In the case of the
Weelkes, I think they weren’t really reading the music the way we
do at all — they just learned it to get the basic tune and then
put the parts together they way they had to go. They knew the
style, and so they didn’t need every ending note to be exactly the
right length to know where to start the next phrase.

You’ll be able to see what I’m talking about when I put the
piece I just transcribed up (maybe tomorrow), but there’s an A
section where the parts are supposed to all cadence together, and
a B section where they all end together. In both cases, once I’d
entered the notes as they were in the facsimile, one part was
short — in the A section the cantus was a half note short, and in
the B section the bassus was a quarter note short.

In both cases, if you knew the style and were really singing by
ear, it wouldn’t have thrown you — of course the Cantus goes back
and starts the A section the second time the way it did the first
time, and starts the B section the way it’s written, even if the
Cantus final note should be a half note longer. In the B
section, the Bassus part was clearly doing the obvious cadence,
even though it was written a quarter note short.

So I doubt that Weelke’s singers had any problem with his
mistakes, but the Cantabile Band would have if I hadn’t fixed them.