Yesterday afternoon Matthew, Sarah’s partner and Lucy’s Dad, got on a plane to fly home to England. It has been fun having him around. I forget how delightful it is to have good conversations with people other than Eileen and Rev Jen. Sarah and Lucy are staying for an additional couple of weeks.
I managed to pick up my rental car successfully. I had reserved a minivan so that I might transport my harpsichord to the harpsichord shop of Chris Brodersen in Northville, two and half hours away. Matthew helped me get the harpsichord into the minivan.
I got away around 10:40. My phone guided me to the Brodersen shop easily. However, it was a bit dismaying to find the owner so reticent and obviously unhappy to work on my old instrument.
I have forgotten how snobby musicians can be.
I think that both Christopher and I were not too impressed with each other. He probably saw an aging hippy who didn’t have a clue about harpsichords.
I, on the other hand, experienced him as a grumpy not too sharp snob.
It took quite a bit of time for him to get around to telling me he would work on the instrument. He ignored the instructions from Zuckermann (fair enough). He asked for the lead weights to reinsert into the keys also he said he couldn’t work on the instrument without the jack rail (which I had forgotten all about). I promised to ship the weights and the jack rail to him.
I do wonder about Zuckermann’s instructions to remove the weights. When Brodersen taped a few weights on a couple of keys they worked very well. Part of my problems with voicing was getting the key to return. This was easily solved by weighting it as was done in the original 1969 design.
Brodersen exhibited little curiosity and problem solving. I am hoping that he is anal enough to do a good job on my instrument. I’m really at his mercy. I don’t have another line on a harpsichord builder. He feels like my last hope before considering sinking considerable money into a new (used) instrument.
I was surprised how much his negative energy affected me. I tried to stay polite and cheerful and probably ended up sounded even more imbecilic to this middle aged Birkenstocked dude.
It was an unpleasant ride home pondering all of this. I got back about 4:30 PM. This was too late to exercise or practice organ. Eileen listened sympathetically to my report. I did not skip my evening martini (sooprise).
I am feeling more positive this morning. But not about snobs particularly. Just about myself.