Today is a wrapping day here at Firebird. At the moment this is my favorite stage of reedmaking, I think I just like how tidy and finished the blanks look all lined up on the rack. Jenn Grant is on my Spotify playlist, while in the background my flatmate is practicing the Bach Double.

Here in London the weather has been gorgeous and hot, up to 25C for almost a week-- that is, until about fifteen minutes ago. Now it's dark again, summer is over, the rain is back. Small consolation is that the reeds I liked last week are working again. Yay!

I've adjusted my gouge-- when the seasons change like this, from winter to not-winter and back, I find that the reeds just can't adjust enough to vibrate properly. The best way to make this transition is to change the depth of the gouge, and every year it's a little bit different. I have a few blanks that I've gouged to slightly different thicknesses-- we're talking less than half a hair's breadth here-- and later today I'll test them to see which is the winning gouge for the spring season.

Welcome to Firebird!

There isn't really anything that wrecks my workday more effectively than playing on a bad reed.

For a while, you try to excuse the sounds that come out, or explain them away by blaming yourself. My teacher always hated when his students blamed their reeds for their problems, so a part of me always channels him then-- stop making excuses!! Learn to play well on bad reeds!

Which of course prompts an inner dialogue of shame and self-loathing, if you're me. For days I can stare at my bassoon with absolutely no enthusiasm, dreading the time I've scheduled for practicing, making my flatmate miserable with my moroseness. I resent that stupid pile of firewood and scour the internet for get-rich-quick schemes that would let me escape the life I've chosen for myself.

And then, if I'm lucky, I'll soon notice what an idiot I'm being.

Why on earth should I learn to play well on bad reeds, when I know I can make good ones?

At this point I pick up my trusty little hammer (it has a floral pattern on it, it's adorable), and bash the offending reed to bits. What I need is more time at my reed desk-- what I don't need is to be wasting time practicing on reeds that won't settle. (Don't settle for reeds that won't settle! If that weren't bad writing, it would be my new motto.)

So now the cane is soaking.