Wednesday, June 29, 2022

stepping up the scales

Slow progress in the Plague Year Bach project, as I am still stuck half-way into the Courante from the fourth suite. But the movement has already served the purpose for which I chose it, namely making me lose the fear of keys with more than two flats.

Essentially, the keys with up to two flats or sharps are easy on the cello as you can play the scales using only elementary technique, ie first position and open strings for orientation. Losing the guidance of open strings (and harmonics) is what makes me panic whenever I see more than two flats or sharps in a key signature, like eg. this very lovely repertoire piece:

After learning the Eb major scale which I needed for the Courante, I realised I can recycle this fingering for other flat scales, and stumbled upon a consistent method that in principle works for all scales in remote keys (and is different from the fingerings I find in books). So here goes:

scales with flats

3xb: Eb (loses open A)

A ¦ 1-34
D ¦01-3-12-4
G ¦01x24
C ¦ 2-4

that one was fairly obvious, but I’m now taking the upper octave of that and shifting it down the strings to make it the lower octave for the next scales, and I get:

4xb: Ab (loses open D)

A ¦ 1-34-1-3-12
D ¦ 1-34
G ¦ 1-3-12-4

5xb: Db (loses open G)

A ¦ 12
D ¦ 1-34-1-3
G ¦ 1-34
C ¦ 1-3-12-4

scales with sharps

3x#: A is trivial (upper oct: 01-34-13-12)

4x#: E (loses open D) finger sequence like Ab, Db works here too, doesn’t need open A.

A ¦ 1-3-12
D ¦ 1-34
G ¦ 12-4-1-34
C ¦ ---1-3

5x#: B (loses open A) finger sequence like E, Ab, Db.

A ¦ 1-34-1-3-12
D ¦ 12-4-1-34
G ¦ ---1-3

i.e. for the lower octave, or if the upper octave starts near an open string (eg Eb on D string), use 13 124 134 For an upper octave that starts on 4th finger, carry on: 4 134 13 12

The combined sequence 13 124 134 134 13 12 works for four scales: Ab, Db, E and B. (although with the E major scale it unnecessarily avoids the open A string).

NB books seem to prefer the sequence 1x24 1x24 124 124 134, which has only four shifts instead of five, but the extensions add difficulty where I’m already in unfamiliar terrain, so I prefer mine.

PS the example shown above is the beginning of the Elegie by Gabriel Faure, Op 24.

Thursday, June 23, 2022

my musical miseducation

Here's a memoir fragment I wrote in English in 2015 and kept in a drawer. At the tail end of bringing up my own children, I had built up a lot of anger about all the opportunities I never even knew about when I grew up, but I wasn't really ready to get into discussions about that.

In 2020/21 this fragment became the nucleus for the much longer (and marginally less angry) text of chapter 3 in my cello/piano themed family memoir, written in German. To give an impression of the content of that chapter, I'm now sharing the original fragment, with only a few edits and updates.

 

My musical miseducation

(started writing up 23.10.2015 – this version revised in June 2022)

When I was five, my father finished his PhD and started a proper job, and we moved from an attic in the centre of Würzburg to a place in the middle of nowhere, close to the petrochemical site where he worked, but far away from everything else. At that time the chemical industry was hiring all the chemists they could get, so he had the choice to start at any of the large chemical companies. We could have ended up in a more civilised environment like Mannheim/Ludwigshafen, Frankfurt, or Köln/Leverkusen, but we ended up at the rural northern fringe of the Ruhrgebiet, not even in a village or residential development, but in a field where a local farmer had built a house for his daughter, who then very wisely decided not to move in. The small town of Dorsten was 3 km away, the village which we nominally belonged to about the same distance in the opposite direction.

I was sent to the village primary school aged 5 (and three quarters), a year ahead of schedule as I had started learning to read and write all by myself – probably because there was nothing else to do there.

My mother had inherited a good upright piano (August Förster, Leipzig, ca. 1912) from her mother, who had been a piano teacher and had died just before I was born. That piano now came out of storage and moved in with us. In the early years it had pride of place in the large living/dining room, but later on it was squeezed out and ended up in the dark corridor, near the bathroom door. Meanwhile, in the attic of my (paternal) grandparents’ house, there was a good cello (although in a sorry state) last played by my great-grandfather in the early 1930s.

So my parents had space, disposable income, two quality musical instruments, and an intelligent child in primary school. What would you do in that situation? My mother decided to take piano lessons for herself and put me out to pasture on the steppe. Her teacher, a certain Kurt Kayser, head of the Vestische Musikschule at Gelsenkirchen-Buer, died on April 25, 1972 after smoking-related illnesses, and her lessons notebook runs for two years and a bit from Feb 17 to March 18. As I found payment receipts from May 69 to July 70, and I seem to remember that Herr Kayser was ill for a while, I conclude the lessons ran from February 1969 (just before I started school) to March 1971.

Ironically, Herr Kayser was also a cellist, so in her piano lessons they sometimes played cello sonatas together (the notes don’t say, they only identify pieces by composer) and I remember her raving about what a lovely instrument that was. Nobody told me that there was a cello in my grandparents' attic, and that children can, you know, learn to play that thing.

One time in her late 70s, my mother was still raving about Herr Kayser and how unfortunate his death was (he was 78 though), and how he was her best chance of learning the piano properly, without seeming to notice that I was sitting opposite her and might have opinions on what she should have done at the time.

I learned to play the recorder in primary school by default – I think the whole class did, or at least a significant proportion. That lasted for less than a year and I have a vague feeling I enjoyed it. Also, the things I learned there stuck for a lifetime. After decades of not using the knowledge I have picked up recorders and played tunes from sight. The notes you learn first on the recorder are still the ones I read most automatically.

I still have the booklet with the recorder tunes and dates of the lessons scribbled in. I was shocked to find out that the dates match the year 1974, so it only happened in the second half of year 4 of primary school, when I was 10 already. At the end of the school year, that recorder tuition ran out, and so did my musical education. I am fairly sure that nobody told me that one can “move up” from the recorder to a proper flute and do more interesting things with that. So no music for the next few years, apart from being forced to sing carols at Christmas.

I moved on to the Gymnasium (selective secondary school) where at one point the music teacher tested us for musical hearing. The tasks were things like: “Which of the two intervals is the larger one?” – completely trivial for those kids who were already learning an instrument. If in doubt, you just hum the scale inside your head to count the steps in each interval. And practically impossible for the rest of us who hardly knew what an interval was, let alone how to determine its size. I suppose if anybody had shown up with the unrecognised raw talent of a young Mozart at that point, the teacher would have taken steps to make sure they get an opportunity to use it, but to my knowledge nobody did.

At age 13 at least (I know because I already had the large bedroom that only became available in 1976 after the other family had moved out of the house consisting of two flats), my mother brought up the issue that it might be good for me to learn an instrument. My father suggested a guitar group, emphasizing “group”, as the social aspect was the only part of the equation that he could relate to.

However, by that time I had already decided that I wasn’t really keen on spending more time with other kids than I did anyway, as I was much happier in my own company and had plenty of books to read. So I got upset and argued that a) I could already play the recorder, and b) I could learn the guitar all by myself. By that point, a classical guitar of reasonable quality had joined the household. My mother had bought it (for herself, not for me!) off my cousin who replaced it with a steel-string western style one. The first photo of the guitar shows up in my albums in the summer of 1978, when I was 14.

I got my way, hauled the guitar up to my bedroom, and learned the essential chords that everybody can play. I figured out a way to play a scale without open strings, so I could essentially play any tune in any key, and stayed on that level, without any encouragement to move up and play some easy classics, for instance. Only in my student days did I discover sheet music for easy classical guitar and got to learn some easy bits from Bach etc.

What also didn’t happen between ages 5 and 16 was exposure to live classical music. From January 1981 - I was 17 and a member of the editorial team of the pupils’ magazine spectrum - a music teacher at the school organised free tickets for the spectrum crew to see classical concerts held regularly by the Philharmonia Hungarica in nearby Marl. The PH was a widely known orchestra founded in Vienna in 1957 by musicians exiled from communist Hungary, and for some reason that I forgot, possibly a pot of state funding being available, it landed in the otherwise not too cultured town of Marl. (After losing its politically motivated state finance, the orchestra was disbanded in 2001.) I am quite sure that until then I had not known anything about the PH. In the second concert we attended they played Dvorak’s cello concerto, with Ralph Kirshbaum as the soloist, which became my favourite piece of classical music. Later I found out that my grandfather, being the son of a cellist, although not a musician himself, owned three LPs with different recordings of this concerto. Another piece that left a deep impression at that point was Schubert’s unfinished symphony – these days I occasionally get to play it with Cowley Orchestra and the goosebumps I get from that are remarkable.

Opera, ironically, didn’t happen either, although my mother was a huge opera fan. Presumably that was a pleasure not to be shared with mere peasants such as the rest of the family. The first opera performance I saw was Don Giovanni at the Musiktheater im Revier, Gelsenkirchen, in the season of 1980/81, so I was 17 or just under. Even later still (cinematic release in Germany 23.11.1984), I saw the film adaptation of the opera Carmen, with Julia Migenes in the title role and Placido Domingo as Don Jose and really loved it. (Today I realise that the story is a rather problematic one to love.)

In the summer of 1980, at the age of 16, I discovered my great-grandfather’s cello in the attic of my grandparents’ house. It had a few gut strings, but the bridge was missing, and there were a couple of serious cracks in the body. It had been stored in a cloth bag, so the protection wasn’t all that perfect. I took it home to my room (where it joined the classical guitar as well as an ancient black Framus semi-acoustic guitar which I had bought a few months earlier, in May 1980). I built a very provisional bridge from spare bits of wood, bought a cheap bow, and fancied the idea of learning to play the instrument.

So I went to the local council’s music school with mother and we enquired whether that might be possible. The guy who dealt with us (no idea what his role was) suggested that a) it might take a while to get the old cello sorted out, b) I was way too old to learn such a difficult instrument properly, and c) wouldn’t I like to learn the double bass instead. He took us to instrument storage where they had several of them standing around (clearly a shortage of pupils willing to pick them up!) and let me try it out, all the time emphasizing how perfect my hands were shaped to play the double bass. With hindsight, he clearly had too many pupils for cello on his books and not enough for double bass, but I swallowed the bait and started learning bass, renting an instrument from the music school (at DM 5,- per month, it was obviously at the taxpayer’s expense).

I only have very hazy memories of my first bass teacher, a Mr Balint (possibly Hungarian, not sure, there were lots of Hungarian musicians in the area thanks to the PH). He was soon replaced by a younger teacher, Gunnar Polansky, who was a very down-to-Earth, ordinary child of the Ruhrgebiet, and also a very talented musician with a promising career as part of a Jazz trio (the Thomas Gabriel Trio). He explained to me why the Jacques Loussier trio had their famous interpretation of Bach’s music all wrong, and his trio was playing Bach much better, but I forgot why it was better. Checking up on the internet, I realise the Thomas Gabriel Trio has remained active for over 30 years (they released a CD with jazzed-up Bach music in 2013), and Gunnar also advanced in the classical world, becoming solo bass at the Neue Philharmonie Westfalen (an orchestra that is only new because it resulted from the merger of two smaller regional orchestras).

Through Gunnar’s encouragement, I got into the Big Band of the Music School (somehow, the regular orchestra was never on offer?!), where I learned about three jazz standards (including How high the moon, which I still like today) and I think I took part in one concert, although I have no direct memory of playing in the concert.

I continued bass tuition through to the summer of 1984, as I did my Zivildienst (replacement military service for conscientious objectors) from home, so in total I had nearly four years of tuition on bass, and I got half way through the Simandl etudes, but nowhere near performing anything. On one occasion I had the opportunity to accompany some school choir singing Eastern European folk songs, together with a pianist. Although I practiced my part quite a bit, I fell apart as soon as I had to keep in time with the pianist, never mind the choir. Today I would know what to do about such problems, but at the time I was clueless and didn’t get much help.

Moving on to University in 1984, I had an extremely small student room, so putting a bass in there was completely out of the question. Still, I ventured out to a try-out rehearsal with some local jazz band. As it happened, their bassist was away that day but his instrument was there, so I could pluck a few wrong notes at the wrong time. I was put into my place quite firmly, however, when the other musicians discussed which piece to play next, someone proposed a title, and another one said: “No, without a bass we can’t play that one,” while I was standing next to him holding the bass. Sadly, I haven’t played a bass since that day. (Update: on one occasion at the Isis Farmhouse, I borrowed Noreen’s bass for five minutes. Didn’t get any standing ovations for my playing.)

Looking back, there were many other ways in which I was discouraged from playing music while I was growing up, even discouraged from having opinions on music. My parents liked to ridicule other families where children were bribed to practice their instruments – I remember this specifically of one family they knew from university times and where the children were younger than me and learning piano while I was still learning nothing. Apparently, they traded TV time for piano practice time and apparently that was a completely outrageous thing to do. Not that it would have worked with me as I never saw the point of TV.

Similarly, a school friend of mine who came from a family where children learned violin by default was extremely unpopular with my parents, an aversion which I have never understood. I suppose the bottom line was that those kinds of families come from another planet and have nothing to do with us.

This might have been a valid argument if my mother hadn’t been the daughter of a piano teacher as well as a pianist and singer herself. More shockingly still, we had virtually no contact with the family of her oldest sister while I was growing up (curiously, her contact with that family improved after we and our cousins were all grown up and there were no educational approaches to compare and contrast any more). Allegedly this was because that aunt and her family were very religious and would have tried to convert us to their Baptist faith. Decades later I found out that all five of my cousins in that family had learned to play musical instruments. That little detail was never mentioned in our household. By contrast, we often met up with the smaller and less religious family of the middle sister, where both my cousins were self-taught guitar strummers like myself and as far as I know there had been no serious attempt at musical education.

Photo labelled "Advent 1970" - as I said music making mainly happened in the run-up to xmas.

Monday, June 20, 2022

why we waste energy

The latest special issue of Current Biology is about economy and biology, and my contribution looks at the energy efficiency of the hunter gatherer lifestyle compared to feeding strategies of other primates and to later developments such as agriculture. Turns out we have always prioritised time efficiency over energy efficiency, setting us on a straight path towards today's ridiculously wasteful ways of getting our calories.

The resulting feature is out now:

Shopping with hunter gatherers

Current Biology Volume 32, Issue 12, 20 June 2022, Pages R596-R599

Restricted access to full text and PDF download
(will become open access again one year after publication)

Magic link for free access
(first seven weeks only)

See also my twitter thread with all this year's CB features.

Present-day hunter-gatherer populations like the Hazda in Tanzania, shown here, were included in a study analysing the energetics of this subsistence strategy. (Photo: alexstrachan/Pixabay.)

NB in the non-special section of the issue there is also an interview with Asifa Majid, whose work I have covered on various occasions and who also gave a helpful hint that was crucial for this feature. Her interview appears to be on open access.

Friday, June 17, 2022

wnbr comeback

World Naked Bike Rides are definitely back to normal this year, as the photos from last weekend's rides at London and Brighton demonstrate (eg here and here). (Some rides may also have happened last year as well, not sure what went ahead and what was cancelled, and in any case I wasn't ready to attend any mass events last summer.) See this blog entry for my pre-Covid WNBR ravings.

So if like me you missed the big rides that have already been and gone (London and Brighton clashed with my travel plans), here's the schedule for the rest of this naked cycling season in the UK and neighbouring countries (once the rides have happened, I'm adding flickr links):

18.6. Edinburgh - Brussels
19.6. Bristol
25.6. Chelmsford
2.7. Portsmouth, Eastbourne - Amsterdam
9.7. Ipswich
16.7. Cardiff, Colchester
23.7. Clacton
30.7. Folkestone
6.8. Romford
20.8. Cambridge
27.8. Cork

(I got the dates from here and sorted them chronologically rather than alphabetically, and threw in a few international dates too.)

As the weather forecast looks a bit unpromising this weekend, I'll skip the much-loved Bristol ride. I am speculating that it will be better by the time the Cardiff ride rolls along. In the past, Bristol and Cardiff were often on the same weekend, which is no use, if one has bad weather the other has too, and if not, it's awkward to travel to both. So anyhow, fingers crossed, and here's the lovely poster for Cardiff:

Nicked from their twitter feed. I love their twitter handle @DiffWNBR - it took me years to figure out that they took the Car out of Cardiff.

Special shoutout for Tony Grimes's amazing album of London 2022, with 200+ pics, many of which are portraits of individual riders. They are also in the group WNBR London 2022.

PS On one ride, I saw a guy who had the dates of his WNBR adventures tattooed on his back (maybe a dozen or so?). I'm not quite as crazy (yet) but here's my modest list of seven rides:

2015 Bristol
2016 Bristol, London
2017 Bristol, Brighton
2018 London
2019 London

I just discovered that Flickr user "Sunny days6" has albums with lots of crowd photos from four of these rides (the London and Brighton ones), so I need to go through and play Where is Wally? Might be tricky to find pics I'm in as I don't even remember what hat I wore on which ride.

At Oxford, there has only been one ride, in 2014, and I only found out about it when it whizzed past me.

I mentioned the WNBRs in my 2016 feature A planet with two billion cars and used one of my photos of the ride - one of the occasions when fun magically turns into research. That two billion figure was an extrapolation made for 2030 - I should probably check up on that some time and write an update. Even if electric vehicles get a lot of press coverage these days, the growth that leads us to two billions will happen in the developing world, and it will comprehensively be fuelled by with diesel.

Thursday, June 16, 2022

open doors

Every picture tells a story No. 40

Season finale - as the list of entries gets a bit unwieldy, I am going to close this door and open another one in a few weeks time.

Auguste from the East Prussian patchwork family, who worked in Allenburg at the bottom of the steps moved to Hamborn on the river Rhine (now part of Duisburg) in October 1922, aged 24. The following year she married fellow East Prussian Ernst Leopold and stayed at Hamborn the rest of her life.

She lived there at four different addresses over the years, here she is entering the house in Knappenstraße 43, where she lived with her family from the 1920s through to the mid 1960s, in a photo dating from the 1950s:

Knappe in this context refers to a skilled miner working below ground. Although it's emphatically not named after a poet or writer, the Knappenstraße is part of the poets' quarter (see also this link), a large housing development built between 1905 and 1924 for workers of the rapidly growing steal and mining. A photo of the street appears in this document on page 22.

This photo is also on flickr.

Every picture tells a story series - season 1 now complete:

  1. string quartet Wuppertal Elberfeld 1927
  2. greetings from Adamsweiler
  3. Gastwirthschaft Ferd. Weirich
  4. quartet times three
  5. Neumühl 1923
  6. Tangermünde railway station 1889
  7. a singing lesson
  8. bei Wilhelm Geppert
  9. a bakery at Lorsch 1900
  10. Consumgeschäft von Julius Düsselmann
  11. Hanna and Ruth
  12. a young chemist
  13. school's out at Reichenstein, 1886
  14. a patchwork family in East Prussia
  15. the case of the missing grandmother
  16. checkpoint Glaner Brücke 1929(ish)
  17. finding Mimi
  18. five sisters, five decades
  19. happy at home
  20. gone milking
  21. steel workers
  22. field work
  23. what to wear at Porta Westfalica
  24. a classic convertible
  25. at the bottom of the steps
  26. a forester's family
  27. the Kaiser visits Allenburg
  28. teaching the 'deaf-mute'
  29. a guard dog called Schluck
  30. party like it's 1956
  31. the case of the mysterious uncle
  32. three Hedwigs and a baby
  33. a lost generation
  34. lost illusions
  35. pursued by a bear
  36. three daughters
  37. happy 240th birthday
  38. three sisters
  39. wedding styles
  40. open doors

Alternatively, you can use this twitter thread as an illustrated table of contents.

In a somewhat roundabout way, this series relates to my research for the family history music memoir I have now completed in a first version.

Monday, June 06, 2022

fire and water

The Pantanal, a major wetlands region in the south of Brazil is gradually diminished by the sum of many planning decisions, conservation experts have said, and it is also suffering devastating fires as rainfall produced by the Amazon water pump are decreasing.

I've used these developments as an excuse for a broader roundup of wetland issues ranging from conservation through to restoration.

The resulting feature is out now:

Wetland worries

Current Biology Volume 32, Issue 11, 6 June 2022, Pages R495-R497

Restricted access to full text and PDF download
(will become open access again one year after publication)

Magic link for free access
(first seven weeks only)

See also my twitter thread with all this year's CB features.

In August 2020, wildfires devastated large parts of the Pantanal. This photo shows a Panthera Brazil team trying to save wooden bridges on the Transpantaneira road. (Photo: Fernando Tortato/Panthera.)

Sunday, May 29, 2022

traffic calming measures

Oxford has a few lovely new low-traffic neighbourhoods, essentially closing down rat runs between main roads with modal filters (see my photos of last year's LTNs on flickr). The furious responses amplified by local media and vandalism from some parts demonstrate that people still don't understand the basic science of traffic management in cities, such as the proven fact that building more roads and more parking spaces will produce more traffic. This is called induced demand, essentially, make it easier to drive and more people will drive more. Conversely, you can make it harder to drive, people will think twice if their trip is necessary or could perhaps be done by walking or cycling.

I learned this more than 30 years ago, back in Germany, in a talk held by Hermann Knoflacher, who was then still active in traffic planning in Vienna, and also widely known as an expert on getting cars out of cities. Another thing I remember from his talk is the concept of desire lines, telling planners where people want to go.

Wikipedia reminded me of another thing he probably showed on his slides, namely his "walkmobile" - a home-built frame the size of a car, with which he sometimes walked around to demonstrate the insane space requirements of drivers. This set me thinking, and I came up with a somewhat more practical version of the idea, using a pedal car to take up space (such as the roadside space outside my house where I really don't want to see horrid huge SUVs), and maybe cycle around to slow down traffic and raise awareness for good causes (such as ban SUVs from cities).

A quick search found a lovely specimen from a company in the US, called International Surrey Company:

Source

Wikipedia calls this vehicle type a quadracycle.

Still have to find something closer to home - stop press here is a list. And figure out how to get a parking permit for something that isn't a car.

An alternative idea which I pondered earlier was converting an old truck into a mini-park, like Adam Tranter did. Just shying away from all the hassle associated with owning the vehicle.

Saturday, May 28, 2022

vaccinated in 1883

As monkeypox and the smallpox vaccine are becoming a bit of an issue these days, I am grateful that I am just about old enough to have received the smallpox vaccine, so hoping the protection lasts, even though the scars have faded a bit.

I can also report that Heinrich the cellist, who would be 140 this year, received his vaccinations, the first one in 1883:

and the second one in 1894:

with the Ts and Cs on the back of each explaining that vaccinated "for the first time" didn't mean the first dose, but that they made up to three attempts in cases when there was no visible reaction. Here's the back of the first certificate, which once was red:

The text on the green one is the same except for the explanation that green is for the second dose.

What I also love about these is that they never mention what disease is targeted by the vaccine. Obvious reason: the one against smallpox was the only vaccine known.

Some background: The vaccination was legally required in Prussia since 1815 and in the German Empire since 1874. Thus, each of the certificates emphasises the fact that the legal requirment has been fulfilled.

Thursday, May 26, 2022

wedding styles

Every picture tells a story No. 39

In this series I am aiming to use real life photos rather than studio portraits, but in some branches of the family there is a shortage of informal photos, so sometimes I have to resort to formal ones. This is the case for the family of Paul Gellrich, the husband of milkmaid Hedwig Geppert. The two married in Dörndorf in 1940, and their wedding photo is one of very few photos we have of him. I feel the dramatic hairstyle makes this more interesting than other wedding photos. (He was serving in the army at the time but I'm not sure that this was exactly the specification required?)

To compare and contrast, here's the wedding photo of his parents, who married before 1905 in Silesia. As I mentioned before, there was a shortage of first names in this family, so both couples were known after their wedding as Paul and Hedwig Gellrich. (In my records, Paul's mother is known as Hedwig Scholz.)

This photo is also on flickr.

Every picture tells a story series so far:

  1. string quartet Wuppertal Elberfeld 1927
  2. greetings from Adamsweiler
  3. Gastwirthschaft Ferd. Weirich
  4. quartet times three
  5. Neumühl 1923
  6. Tangermünde railway station 1889
  7. a singing lesson
  8. bei Wilhelm Geppert
  9. a bakery at Lorsch 1900
  10. Consumgeschäft von Julius Düsselmann
  11. Hanna and Ruth
  12. a young chemist
  13. school's out at Reichenstein, 1886
  14. a patchwork family in East Prussia
  15. the case of the missing grandmother
  16. checkpoint Glaner Brücke 1929(ish)
  17. finding Mimi
  18. five sisters, five decades
  19. happy at home
  20. gone milking
  21. steel workers
  22. field work
  23. what to wear at Porta Westfalica
  24. a classic convertible
  25. at the bottom of the steps
  26. a forester's family
  27. the Kaiser visits Allenburg
  28. teaching the 'deaf-mute'
  29. a guard dog called Schluck
  30. party like it's 1956
  31. the case of the mysterious uncle
  32. three Hedwigs and a baby
  33. a lost generation
  34. lost illusions
  35. pursued by a bear
  36. three daughters
  37. happy 240th birthday
  38. three sisters
  39. wedding styles

Alternatively, you can use this twitter thread as an illustrated table of contents.

In a somewhat roundabout way, this series relates to my research for the family history music memoir I have now completed in a first version.

Monday, May 23, 2022

changes at the top

High mountain lakes, streams and glaciers are often seen as the ultimate natural environments untouched by human devastation, but climate change and tourism are already changing that situation. The remoteness of those mountain sites means that we don't see the change when it happens, but there are multiple knock-on effects such as the spread of pathogens and the disruption of freshwater supplies that will fall back on us eventually.

Starting from a hint to a paper about problems with mountain lakes I extended my scope to include mountain streams an glaciers as well and found the overall picture rather worrying.

The resulting feature is out now:

Anthropocene at altitude

Current Biology Volume 32, Issue 10, 23 May 2022, Pages R441-R444

Restricted access to full text and PDF download
(will become open access again one year after publication)

Magic link for free access
(first seven weeks only)

See also my twitter thread with all this year's CB features.

Mountain lakes such as this one in the Pyrenees, although remote from cities and industries, are also exposed to chemical pollution. (Photo: Witizia/Pixabay.)

Thursday, May 19, 2022

three sisters

Every picture tells a story No. 38

Let's move on from Peter Eberle's three daughters to his three sisters. They were Anna Barbara, Barbara Katharina (Babette) and Elisabeth Christina (Dina), born 1893, 1895, and 1897 respectively. Peter, born 1900 was the last of the children of the bakery family at Lorsch.

I don't have a picture with all children, so this portrait of Babette and Dina will have to do.

There's one child in the photo of the family house and bakery, which may or may not be Anna. All children had to work for the business at one point, eg making deliveries. The baker died in 1938, his wife in 1934, but the three daughters kept the house in Lorsch for another four decades, so it stayed in the family for more than 80 years.

In her adult life, Anna worked as a nurse at a hospital in Hanau, and when that hospital became Nazi-fied, she moved closer to home to work as a Gemeindeschwester (kind of a peripatetic nurse / health visitor) at Bensheim.

Dina did an apprenticeship complete with Gesellenprüfung as a seamstress / tailor.

I think Babette ran the household. All three of them shared a reputation as the fiercest penny-pinchers that ever lived.

Various reasons have been cited for their persistent singledom. As protestants in the very catholic town of Lorsch, they were facing a barrier (although not an insurmountable one); lack of funds for a dowry; as well as the fact that the young men of their generation were the cannon fodder of WW1, so they would have had to put in some extra effort. Not sure how hard they tried and how much ambition they had in that direction.

And for comparison, let's throw 16-year-old Peter in the mix too.

This photo is also on flickr.

Every picture tells a story series so far:

  1. string quartet Wuppertal Elberfeld 1927
  2. greetings from Adamsweiler
  3. Gastwirthschaft Ferd. Weirich
  4. quartet times three
  5. Neumühl 1923
  6. Tangermünde railway station 1889
  7. a singing lesson
  8. bei Wilhelm Geppert
  9. a bakery at Lorsch 1900
  10. Consumgeschäft von Julius Düsselmann
  11. Hanna and Ruth
  12. a young chemist
  13. school's out at Reichenstein, 1886
  14. a patchwork family in East Prussia
  15. the case of the missing grandmother
  16. checkpoint Glaner Brücke 1929(ish)
  17. finding Mimi
  18. five sisters, five decades
  19. happy at home
  20. gone milking
  21. steel workers
  22. field work
  23. what to wear at Porta Westfalica
  24. a classic convertible
  25. at the bottom of the steps
  26. a forester's family
  27. the Kaiser visits Allenburg
  28. teaching the 'deaf-mute'
  29. a guard dog called Schluck
  30. party like it's 1956
  31. the case of the mysterious uncle
  32. three Hedwigs and a baby
  33. a lost generation
  34. lost illusions
  35. pursued by a bear
  36. three daughters
  37. happy 240th birthday
  38. three sisters

Alternatively, you can use this twitter thread as an illustrated table of contents.

In a somewhat roundabout way, this series relates to my research for the family history music memoir I have now completed in a first version.

Thursday, May 12, 2022

happy 240th birthday

Every picture tells a story No. 37

Some time last week I came across a photo on twitter claiming to show the earliest born human to have had their photo taken while alive. While I have since found out that there are several claims to this record, the person in question was Conrad Heyer, born in 1749, who had his Daguerrotype portrait taken in 1852 a the age of 103. (He was born in the New World, but his parents hailed from the Rhineland, so I really should find his family tree to compare notes.)

You can kind of see how you achieve this record: get ridiculously old and be around at the time when photography is still a newfangled thing. Logically, any assiduous practicioner of the new technology would consider documenting for future generations things and people that might not be around much longer, so a centenarian fits just fine. The younger people will still be around in a few years time when the prices for the equipment and consumables have settled down a bit (Old Conrad did live to 106 though, so no desperate hurry).

Which then begs the question, do I have any ancestors who were ridiculously old in the mid 19th century and had their photo taken? Well, we can't quite compete with dear old Conrad Heyer, but there is one senior citizen who misses Heyer's record by just three decades.

Christian Gottlieb Weiß, maternal grandfather of the station master of Adamsweiler, was born 12.5.1782. When I looked him up his birthday was just a week away, and falling on a Thursday, so I pushed back the queued entries to celebrate this occasion today. He became a teacher at Hellenthal, Raversbeuren, and finally the village school in Simmern u. Dhaun (not to be confused with the town and former capital city of Simmern, which perished in the Palatinate Succession War and never really recovered after that).

He married Anna Gertrude Keuert from Hellenthal at Kirschseiffen in 1806. They had eight children and more than 16 grandchildren (one of whom married the inn keeper Ferdinand Weirich). One of the daughters emigrated to North America with her husband Friedrich Dick and "a stable full of children" as the 19th century chronicles of the Weiss family note.

In 1852, when he was 70 and getting a bit forgetful, the Prussian government put it to him that he should perhaps retire, and he did in November 1853. He received a decent pension and was able to celebrate his golden wedding anniversary in 1856. His wife died in 1858. So when his portrait was taken in 1866, he was retired, widowed, and a little bit forgetful, but otherwise fine, I guess. He died in December 1867, aged 85.

In the same album (curated by his great-granddaughter Johanna Kauer, oldest of the five daughters of the station master), we find photos from the same sort of time, showing his son in law, Mathias Kauer (* 1813), and his grandson Christoph Gottlieb Kauer. So this may have been a concerted effort, but at this point there is no trace of the women in the family.

Mathias Kauer may well be in second place for the ranking of earliest born person of whom we have a photo. He was the firstborn in his family, so even if there were more photos taken of his siblings, they wouldn't affect his result. Which is why I'm showing him too (although I have used his photo before as I just realised):

Bronze medal may go to Carl Düsselmann from the Krefeld Clan, although he and his twin sister are only 6th/7th in the sibling sequence, so there is every possibility that photos exist of his older siblings. Doesn't matter too much, as for the generation born in the 1840s, it becomes quite commonplace to have portrait photos taken on all sorts of occasions, so no records to be chased there, and by this point the women are also well represented in the photographic archives.

This photo is also on flickr.

Every picture tells a story series so far:

  1. string quartet Wuppertal Elberfeld 1927
  2. greetings from Adamsweiler
  3. Gastwirthschaft Ferd. Weirich
  4. quartet times three
  5. Neumühl 1923
  6. Tangermünde railway station 1889
  7. a singing lesson
  8. bei Wilhelm Geppert
  9. a bakery at Lorsch 1900
  10. Consumgeschäft von Julius Düsselmann
  11. Hanna and Ruth
  12. a young chemist
  13. school's out at Reichenstein, 1886
  14. a patchwork family in East Prussia
  15. the case of the missing grandmother
  16. checkpoint Glaner Brücke 1929(ish)
  17. finding Mimi
  18. five sisters, five decades
  19. happy at home
  20. gone milking
  21. steel workers
  22. field work
  23. what to wear at Porta Westfalica
  24. a classic convertible
  25. at the bottom of the steps
  26. a forester's family
  27. the Kaiser visits Allenburg
  28. teaching the 'deaf-mute'
  29. a guard dog called Schluck
  30. party like it's 1956
  31. the case of the mysterious uncle
  32. three Hedwigs and a baby
  33. a lost generation
  34. lost illusions
  35. pursued by a bear
  36. three daughters
  37. happy 240th birthday

Alternatively, you can use this twitter thread as an illustrated table of contents.

In a somewhat roundabout way, this series relates to my research for the family history music memoir I have now completed in a first version.

Monday, May 09, 2022

oryx, ibex et al.

It is always nice to have a charismatic species with a memorable name as a mascot for a feature, so the Arabian oryx (Oryx leucoryx), the first animal species to come back after having been extinct in the wild, was too good to be missed. Looking at other ungulate conservation efforts on the Arabian Peninsula and beyond, I also took the Nubian ibex on board (are there any other four-letter animals ending on "x" that I missed?), along with some gazelles.

The resulting feature is out now:

Desert revival

Current Biology Volume 32, Issue 9, 9 May 2022, Pages R399-R401

Restricted access to full text and PDF download
(will become open access again one year after publication)

Magic link for free access
(first seven weeks only)

See also my twitter thread with all this year's CB features.

The Arabian oryx is the first animal species that has recovered to Vulnerable status after having been Extinct in the Wild. It is also remarkable for its specific adaptations to survival in the desert.

Saturday, May 07, 2022

stew and cello

some thoughts on

Cocido y violonchelo

Mercedes Cebrián
Penguin Random House Literatura 2022
available from Blackwells, not sure why they add an English title, as the book is definitely in Spanish!

As some of you may have noticed I’m a sucker for music memoirs, especially if they involve an instrument that I try to play myself, so when I came across a brand-new memoir about the author learning the cello in her forties, that was enough reason for me to order a copy and read it immediately. I was only very slightly worried about the cookery aspect covered in the same tome.

So to summarise her story briefly, Mercedes Cebrián studied piano and singing as a youngster, had some experience of baroque summer schools (as a harpsichord player) then started cello lessons in her late 40s. She spends too much time watching internet videos of child prodigies and at one point spends 600 euros on a good bow. Oh, and she’s a foodie but I won’t count that against her.

The memoir falls into two halves, the first is set in that strangely distant world before Covid and has exactly the right mix of cello and rest of the world for my taste with some musical memories of her childhood and travels. The second half deals with the first Covid year, but strangely a travel to Italy takes up much of the space, and the cello somehow becomes less important. This is also where the foodie things come to the fore.

I found this is really surprising as to me, the times of repeated lockdowns meant I had a lot more time to spend with the cello and play unaccompanied Bach. Maybe that should have been included in the government advice around the world. Stay home and play Bach. (Privilege check: yes I do know that this doesn’t work in a block of flats, our cello would be heard five floors up and five floors down, and in this range there is bound to be somebody who doesn’t like the suites - or my interpretation of them.) So I found the second half slightly less engaging and may have skipped one or two paragraphs that appeared to be only about soup (she styles herself as the anti-Mafalda here).

The scary bit comes near the end [spoiler alert] where she suggests she might be terminating the cello adventure, citing Amundsen who didn’t spend the rest of his life in Antarctica either. Now any room with a cello in it tends to be a lot warmer and welcoming than Antarctica, usually, if only because it would be very bad for the cello if it was exposed to the elements. Also, this kind of thing hurts me because I feel the collective guilt about our family cello (memoir to be finalised soon) which spent more than 40 years not being played at all, and another 30 until it came to be played properly and regularly. That, and the fact that it is such a huge privilege to have a cello and be able to converse with it that I really can’t comprehend why anyone would stop (other than for medical reasons such as arm amputation). It just doesn’t compute. There are definitely more cello pieces that I want to learn than I could conceivably master by the age of 100.

So, well, that may just be my problem but I really enjoyed the first half and got some interesting celloing hints out of it. For instance, I had completely forgotten that a cello adaptation of the famous Boccherini minuet is included in book 3 of Suzuki's cello school. After reading the page where she mentioned the piece, I actually dug it out and played a part of it. Also, there were some performers (eg Anastasia Kobekina) and some works mentioned that I need to check up on.

The book comes with a short bibliography of works mentioned in the text, but there aren’t any of the other cello memoirs in it that I’ve read, so here’s my list:

Thursday, May 05, 2022

three daughters

Every picture tells a story No. 36

Frieda the pianist had a bit of a struggle bringing up three daughters on her own during WW2 and thereafter, as her husband Peter didn't come back. They all manage to put up a brave face in this rare family portrait from 1944:

I'm loving the middle child's perpetual grumpy teenager expression. She did grow out of that eventually.

This photo is also on flickr.

Every picture tells a story series so far:

  1. string quartet Wuppertal Elberfeld 1927
  2. greetings from Adamsweiler
  3. Gastwirthschaft Ferd. Weirich
  4. quartet times three
  5. Neumühl 1923
  6. Tangermünde railway station 1889
  7. a singing lesson
  8. bei Wilhelm Geppert
  9. a bakery at Lorsch 1900
  10. Consumgeschäft von Julius Düsselmann
  11. Hanna and Ruth
  12. a young chemist
  13. school's out at Reichenstein, 1886
  14. a patchwork family in East Prussia
  15. the case of the missing grandmother
  16. checkpoint Glaner Brücke 1929(ish)
  17. finding Mimi
  18. five sisters, five decades
  19. happy at home
  20. gone milking
  21. steel workers
  22. field work
  23. what to wear at Porta Westfalica
  24. a classic convertible
  25. at the bottom of the steps
  26. a forester's family
  27. the Kaiser visits Allenburg
  28. teaching the 'deaf-mute'
  29. a guard dog called Schluck
  30. party like it's 1956
  31. the case of the mysterious uncle
  32. three Hedwigs and a baby
  33. a lost generation
  34. lost illusions
  35. pursued by a bear
  36. three daughters

Alternatively, you can use this twitter thread as an illustrated table of contents.

In a somewhat roundabout way, this series relates to my research for the family history music memoir I have now completed in a first version.

Tuesday, May 03, 2022

carry on courante

Plague Year(s) Bach Project, 18th month

I'm back in the swing of daily Bach practice, and have recovered the five performance-ready movements listed under 4) and 5) below. Still need to work on the other five listed under 2) and 3). So far I've managed to recover the memory of the second minuet of the second suite, which is a lovely piece but only a small step towards remembering all I had memorised by the end of June last year.

Progress with the Courante from the fourth suite is also slow, so I'll just keep trundling on with that this month as well, hoping that by the end of the month I can at least memorise the majority of it.

1) movements I've studied for a month, then put aside for now (still true)
1.1. Prelude
1.2 Allemande

2) movements memorised in a significant part
3.4 Sarabande (1/3)
4.3. Courante (work in progress)

3) movements memorised in their entirety (once upon a time, but now mostly forgotten)
2.4 Sarabande
2.5 Minuet I&II
2.6 Gigue
3.6. Gigue

4) movements memorised and synchronised with metronome
1.3 Courante

5) movements recorded on video and also performed in public
1.4 Sarabande
1.5 Minuet I&II- VIDEO
1.6 Gigue(ooops, need to upload the video, watch this space!)
3.5 Bourree I&II - VIDEO

The five movements listed under 4) and 5) are currently my performance practice list - I play a set of three on one day and a set of two on the other, and I normally manage not to get lost.

I like to sit on one instrument when I play the other ...

Oh, and in cello-related book news, I'm currently reading Mercedes Cebrian's excellent memoir Cocido y violonchelo. Here's my review (accompanied by a cello reading list).

Thursday, April 28, 2022

pursued by a bear

Every picture tells a story No. 35

Heinrich the cellist and Maria didn't have a car but they were close friends with a couple who had a VW beetle, and the four of them used this for many joint holiday trips in the 1950s, typically to the Alps and the south of Germany. (That must have been really cosy with four adults in the small car!)

There are many photos taken by one of the quartet showing the three others, but very few showing all four. Here's one taken at Titisee (a lake and town in the Black Forest) with the bonus features of a fake bear and a real dog (presumably the successor to Schluck the German shepherd). Heinrich and Maria appear on the right:

Update 6.5.22: I've been told there is an ancient Hotel Bären in Titisee, maybe the souvenir photo with the eponymous animal comes as part of their service?

A few examples of the trio format:

En route from Wuppertal to Idar Oberstein, Easter 1952. I'm assuming this was the car the friends had before the famous 1950s beetle, looks more like a pre-war model. I can't quite resolve the emblem - it's not like Peter Eberle's 1930s BMW, but a similar vintage and size from a different maker. Funnily enough, I don't have a photo of the beetle which they normally used. There is a photo with a beetle and a fifth person, but the registration plate doesn't make sense, so I'm assuming it's the other person's car.

Herrenchiemsee, near Munich.

This photo is also on flickr.

Every picture tells a story series so far:

  1. string quartet Wuppertal Elberfeld 1927
  2. greetings from Adamsweiler
  3. Gastwirthschaft Ferd. Weirich
  4. quartet times three
  5. Neumühl 1923
  6. Tangermünde railway station 1889
  7. a singing lesson
  8. bei Wilhelm Geppert
  9. a bakery at Lorsch 1900
  10. Consumgeschäft von Julius Düsselmann
  11. Hanna and Ruth
  12. a young chemist
  13. school's out at Reichenstein, 1886
  14. a patchwork family in East Prussia
  15. the case of the missing grandmother
  16. checkpoint Glaner Brücke 1929(ish)
  17. finding Mimi
  18. five sisters, five decades
  19. happy at home
  20. gone milking
  21. steel workers
  22. field work
  23. what to wear at Porta Westfalica
  24. a classic convertible
  25. at the bottom of the steps
  26. a forester's family
  27. the Kaiser visits Allenburg
  28. teaching the 'deaf-mute'
  29. a guard dog called Schluck
  30. party like it's 1956
  31. the case of the mysterious uncle
  32. three Hedwigs and a baby
  33. a lost generation
  34. lost illusions
  35. pursued by a bear

Alternatively, you can use this twitter thread as an illustrated table of contents.

In a somewhat roundabout way, this series relates to my research for the family history music memoir I have now completed in a first version.

Monday, April 25, 2022

war feeding further crises

In my series on "how to turn hours of doomscrolling into useful research" I bring you my insights on the war in Ukraine, more specifically regarding its impacts on food security. The essential take-home message is, there is no global shortage of grains to feed all of humanity, but the impact of war on market forces and logistics will mean that parts of the global south may be unable to get the food they need and we may face humanitarian crises in various places. The longer version is out now:

Global food security hit by war

Current Biology Volume 32, Issue 8, 25 April 2022, Pages R341-R343

Restricted access to full text and PDF download
(will become open access again one year after publication)

Magic link for free access
(first seven weeks only)

The vast fields of Ukraine provide 30% of the global supply of wheat. The blue skies above cereal fields also inspired the design of the Ukrainian flag, now widely seen in expression of support for the country that has been invaded by Russian troops. (Photo: © Raimond Spekking/Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).)
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