Holders of various sorts

There's something wonderful about the way in which words are invented for different crafts, jobs, and technical areas. The music world has a number of them, some of which I've talked about in other posts, but here's my latest discovery: a gooseneck holder.

Rather than try and describe this, I've added a photo of one form of this rather cute device:

It reminds me of something from an animated movie, though I can't put my finger on it at the moment.

A related musical item, in a very loose sense (the main connection being that it holds something) is the folding music stand. I don't mean those solid stands that are guaranteed to hold the music upright even in an earthquake or tornado, but the ones you unfold bit by bit, trying to work out why it looks as though it's going to blow apart on you as you do so. An example is in the picture below:

The choir I conduct, The Choristers, went out to sing at a rest home today. I'd left the good music stand that they've provided for their conductor back at our rehearsal room (its only quirk is that it has a tendency for the separate parts to...separate). So I grabbed a music stand from home that I was given recently by a friend who'd got it from another friend who's since died. (Are you keeping up?) I'd been grateful to get that new one, because the one we've had in our house since my daughter was at intermediate school (it has her name and the school's name on it) is a little monster than hates to have to stand up and hold anything. It says that after nearly thirty years of being in my house it probably needs a rest. (I've given it a rest: out on the pile that's going to the junk yard.)

The one I was given recently is a more well-behaved character. I thought. As soon as I went to stand it up at the rest home, it claimed that I was opening it incorrectly, and promptly threatened to burst apart. I folded it again, tried again. It still looked as though the actual part that holds the music would throw any music placed on it onto the floor, So I folded it up and tried a third time, finally managing to figure out its intricacies. Even then it demanded not to stand in the position I wanted, but at an angle it claimed was more suitable. (It wasn't.)

Not a good way to start a performance....

Digital pianos

Back in 2012 we bought a Casio digital piano.  It was worth getting not just for the production of Grimhilda! during which it was used as the rehearsal piano, and later the piano in the pit, but also because I've kept it set up next to my computer, and use it in the winter time for singers and instrumentalists who come here for practices. It's warmer in the winter in this room than in the lounge where the grand piano lives.

I suppose the digital piano we bought is already out of date by several editions, though it's hard to know when these various instruments were produced (without doing a great deal of searching online). I think the Casio PX-130 is probably a later model, but who would know just by going by the numbering system. It's not easy to tell. This model looks more solid in terms of its structure - our one is basically a keyboard that sits on top of a trestle, and surprisingly isn't attached to the trestle in any way except by gravity. (Once it slipped when I was putting it on the trestle because the screw holding the trestle wasn't secure, and there was a moment when it looked as though the whole keyboard was going to dash itself in pieces on the floor. As it was one of the top notes caught on my hand and came loose, to my horror. However it turned out it was a matter of moments to fit it comfortably back where it belonged.)

The PX-130 also has a stand, but the the base and the keyboard fit together all of a piece. You can detach the keyboard part from the base, and apparently it's light enough to shift around. It weighs 25 lbs, being an American keyboard. My keyboard, even though it came in two parts, was quite heavy. I know this for a fact because I had to hump it out of the car and into the rehearsal rooms on innumerable occasions: there were about thirty steps involved in the process. (By steps I mean ones in a stairway, not steps you take.)

Reading about the PX-130 makes me think it's probably a better digital piano than the one I've got; certainly the advertising gives that impression. However I don't think there'll be any new pianos in this house in the near future. We have other things (not necessarily more important things) to spend our money on.