Over the past two years or so, I’ve been attempting to learn the oboe, with the goal of playing with a group like an orchestra. I found an oboe through a local music school, who provided one on permanent loan. It’s probably over 40 years old and came with some reeds of the same vintage. Although in good condition, some maintenance and minor repairs were necessary, so it was sent off for an overhaul. A month later it came back, and I had to figure out how to play it. The internet was scoured, distant oboe playing friends were queried. Eventually, through trial and error, luck, more error, and persistence, reasonable sounds were produced. At this point I felt confident enough to attend the local community orchestra, which takes all comers.
Eddies below North Head
Attendance at rehearsals ground to a halt last November when Gordon wasn’t well but had not yet been diagnosed. We were advised to avoid infection, and decided that going to social things – the museum, handbells, orchestra – should be put on hiatus. It would be like lockdown – Gordon would work from home, I’d go on walks and would wear a mask to the supermarket. But I couldn’t concentrate on practising, so apart from a few days earlier this year, the oboe rested in its old, battered case.
Artistic Woodsman
Last month, I decided that April would be the time to restart. Spring, new beginnings, return to playing music, exercise the grey cells. The first day’s practice went better than expected. The next day didn’t go as well, but it was a longer session. The oboe is not the easiest instrument to learn. Developing an ‘embouchure’ is the first hurdle. Imagine simultaneously making a fish face and expelling air through a tiny opening. The small muscles in lips and cheeks soon become exhausted and no longer keep a seal around the reed.
The Red Float
The reeds are the most important and fragile part of the instrument, and the best are skilfully made by hand. The subtle profile of the two blades – it is a double reed, looking like this: () – varies according to the tone desired. They are also shaped to influence the resistance – the effort needed to get a sound. Beginners use ‘soft’ reeds for ease of blowing. More expert players have ‘harder’ reeds with more resistance. Softer reeds don’t have the best sound; it has been likened to a duck quacking. To quote Bennett Cerf: “An oboe is an ill-wind that nobody blows good.” I am in this category, but soldier on.
Impressionistic Waves at South Head
The gansey is chugging along. The split for front and back has been reached, and there’s about three inches done on the back. More knitting time has been squeezed in this week, by knitting during my Thursday morning shift on the front desk at the museum. It’s uncomplicated enough to put down and pick up, as there are few visitors at this quiet time of year. A bit more time has also been found by knitting during tea breaks instead of sitting at the desk.
And successful eclipse viewing, for those in the path.
Lookong forward to seeing you when orchestra strikes up agsin after the summer break
Xxxxxxxxxxxx
The gansey looks beautiful. Wonderful definition in the stitches. I can never get my chevrons as perfect as that.
Thanks! The lighter colour does help a lot. Your latest is no’ bad!
Well done Margaret. I’ve always wanted to play the oboe too.My uncle died last year (also a Reid) and he was a professional violinist. My uncle’s father made violins as a hobby after retirement and my uncle’s executor had one of those violins (found at my uncle’s house) refurbished for me. So I’ve been side tracked into strings but one day I hope to do as you have done. Keep practising! Nicola
PS before she married my mother was a Margaret Reid too…..
Hi Margaret, so sorry to hear of your loss. I messaged Gordon once to ask about size of needles.
I have recently knitted a flamborough pattern gansey and have a strange problem.
Where the gansey is knit in the round there is a slight right lean in the columns of pattern. When the gansey is knit flat, after the armholes, the lean goes the other way, so the pattern looks odd. This has blocked out to some degree, but it is still apparent!
Have you any thoughts?
Hi Andrew
This has happened to Gordon too, on more than one occasion. As you say, it does mostly block out. Assuming you’re knitting from a cone, I’ve always thought it has something to do with the twist of the yard and the way it comes off the cone. But we’ve never done any controlled experiments to find a solution.
I play the oboe and knit ganseys.
Just keep practicing, your sound will improve! And keep on with the community orchestra, it will help. Do you have a teacher??
The gansey looks great. Oboes and ganseys need a lot of patience and determination just to keep going.
Hi Helen
Alas, I don’t have a teacher. There aren’t many oboe players nearby, and I’d prefer not to drive to Inverness for lessons, but may have to.
Morning Margaret, that sounds like a satisfyingly productive week 👍🙂 – the oboe’s said to be the instrument that sounds most like the human voice but I like your quote. Isn’t the ratio of luck:graft interesting?!
Brave lady, Margaret. I tried the oboe some years ago to no avail but other woodwind were more suitable for myself namely flutes and recorders. Keep with your music group, I enjoyed playing with an orchestra and Edinburgh recorder society. Thurso / Scrabster Gansey coming on. Pattern shows well with this colour. Happy knitting.
Hi Kevin
I took up the oboe so I could play with the orchestra – recorders are more my happy place but there are no other recorder players up here. I went to the SRP in Edinburgh a few times when we lived there, and was part of a bamboo pipe group as well.
Congratulations on carrying on with the oboe – probably one of the most difficult instruments to master. The Bennet Cerf quote is wonderful!
I’m sure you’ll be in orchestra form in no time.
Was Cerf the original source? Because that line was in an old Danny Kaye song, “Anatole of Paris”, that my family had on a 78rpm record but I don’t know the date of writing. It could be either.
The line in the song:
“The oboe, it is clearly understood,/
Is an ill wind that no one blows good.”
But of course you will do well!
The gansey is beautiful.
An internet search reveals that the words to ‘Anatole of Paris’ (which is on YouTube, by the way) were written by Sylvia Fine, who was married to Kaye. But I can’t find anything about when the quote was written.
We drove nearly two hours to position in the path of totality for the total solar eclipse, I had no idea how beautiful it would be when the moon finally covered the sun. We almost did not go, but got through the inertia and went off. Spectacular – photos can’t capture the beauty of it. The next one August 12, 2026 – Greenland, Iceland, Spain, Russia.
A little bit further for me!!
The gansey looks great, stitches are so nicely defined, I love this pattern.