Ali Valerio

Dr. Roozen
ENC 1101 H
16 October 2013
Literacy Lessons of a Cello Player
I first picked up the cello when I was eleven years old. Honestly, I had no idea what I was
getting myself into. I only wanted to play because every year my school organized a field trip to
Universal Studios for students who were in the chorus, band, or orchestra. I threw myself into the latter,
and I was quite disappointed when my school canceled the trip for that year. Luckily, my cello days
lived on. Throughout the years I steadily worked my way up, starting with Hot Cross Buns and
eventually reaching Beethoven; I practiced (quite badly at first) in my living room and eventually
performed in concerts, church, and even a wedding. I knew cello was important to me, but I had no
idea just how monumental a role it would play in my life. It filled a need inside me I didn't know was
there, and helped me serve a purpose I never knew I had. My cello was like family, and the ensemble
was like home.
The beauty of my experience, and that of all musicians I suppose, didn't just come from the
magical performances, however: it came from the incredible journey that began with no musical
knowledge or skill, and led to an understanding and deep appreciation for the musical world that
changed the way I see everything. Part of that understanding involved the literacy that is creatively
woven into the fabric of musical instruments and ensembles. Though unseen to the non-musical eye,
playing the cello consists of critical genres that dictate all aspects of the playing, and the emphasis of
those genres shift depending on the context of the playing. Performing the cello as a soloist and
performing in an ensemble appear as two very similar actions with similar practices, and they indeed
share the same purpose of entertaining an audience. However, the two processes involve or emphasize
different genres that work to serve that purpose.

Goals of the Discourse Community

Cellists are part of a discourse community that have virtually the same goals as those of other
instrument players. Simply stated, they want to perform well. But there's much more to it than that.
First, cellists want to perform at a level where any non-musician would find the music pleasurable. At a
typical high school orchestra concert, many of the concert attendees are families and friends who are
there to support their child, but they don't necessarily know much about what their child is doing. Even
so, most audience members could tell if a performance is decent or way off the mark. For instance, they
might not realize that a part of the song is played too loudly, but they could probably tell if the different
sections play at the wrong times altogether.
Second, a skilled cellist aims to perform at a level that is also pleasing to other musicians who
have a trained ear for quality. If two audience members were asked to give their thoughts on a
particular performance, a casual non-musical observer might reply that the song sounded nice, while
another skilled cellist might reply that the notes were correct but the tone was rather lacking. Not
surprisingly, there is a heightened level of competence and therefore expectations among fellow
musicians, and cellists work to rise to those more critical expectations.
Third, when performing for an audience a cellist aspires to play well while honoring the specific
intentions of the composer. If a song was composed as a slow, moving ballad, performing it as a lively
march would be a poor interpretation. The distinction becomes more subtle yet essential in advanced
musical literature where the pieces are more complex and difficult, and playing with the composer's
intention is limited by the player's ability. If a composer desired a particularly challenging series of
notes in a song to be articulated separately and quietly, that effect might be hindered by the cellist's
ability to only play the notes quickly without doing so quietly and separately. So, the cellist must
sacrifice the composer's intention in order to be well-received by the audience (who doesn't know
explicitly how the composer intended the music to be played, but still knows what a good performance
sounds like). So, these aspects of performance sometimes complicate and even conflict with each other.

Genres Emphasized in a Solo Performance

In order to meet these goals, cellists use a variety of genres that help them reflect on and
improve the quality of their performances. These genres are not always used in every context of a
performance, but they are a majority of the time and are still fundamental to the understanding of
playing the cello. Most of the genres involved in playing the cello in a solo performance are used in the
same way and for the same purpose as performing in an ensemble, but they are not emphasized in the
same fashion. The most critical genre, by far, is the sheet music. A cellist does not always perform with
sheet music in front of him or her. It's quite possible to play from memory and capture the nuance from
the sheet music, but the cellist must still memorize the sheet music in order to play the song at all. Most
people, musicians and non-musicians alike, understand sheet music's basic function. It serves as a guide
for the cellist, telling what notes to play and where to play them. However, to say this is all that sheet
music accomplishes would vastly undermine its value and importance. The complexity of sheet music
is astounding and little-known to those outside the musical world.
In my essay I have included the first page of George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, arranged
by Tony Esposito (see Image A). A non-musician might not have much to say about this piece of music,
but there is an extraordinary amount of information to take in here. While the notes themselves are
important, the terms, phrases and symbols are just as much so. Every black mark on the paper tells the
cellist something more about the piece. I will indicate those in the same style as they appear on the
piece for clarity. The bold words tells the cellist to play freely, then andante moderato, con
esspresivo (at a moderate, walking pace with expression), then grandioso ma non troppo (grandly
but not too much). The bold dynamic symbols tell the cellist how loud or soft to play each section;
pp (pianissimo, or very soft), f (forte, or loud), p (piano, or soft), mf (mezzo forte, or medium
loud), and ff (fortissimo, or very loud). Other miscellaneous words add to the style of the section in
the piece. Poco a poco cresc. is short for poco a poco cresciendo, which means to cresciendo (or
get louder) little by little. Dim. is short for diminuendo, which means to play more quietly. Molto

rit. is short for molto ritardando, which means to slow down very much. A tempo means to return
playing to the original tempo (speed) of the piece, and poco rubato means to play in a slightly
flexible way. There is still much, much more that can be said about this piece of music, but here is a
small sampling of the analysis that can be taken away from it.
While understanding sheet music clearly requires a vast knowledge of musical vocabulary and
literacy, it's less clear when the context of the performance causes a shift in the emphasis of this genre.
In a solo performance, this is the main genre that the cellist uses to evaluate his or her performance. If a
soloist manages to interpret the sheet music correctly and have a strong sound quality, he or she can
satisfy the audience full of experienced and non-experienced musicians while honoring the intention of
the composer. The performer doesn't have to rely on anyone else to help meet the goal, or worry about
anyone else getting in the way of that goal. As you will see, this notion becomes complicated when
other genres apart from the sheet music are emphasized.
Another genre that is essential to perform well is the instrument itself. This may come across as
a peculiar statement, but after a bit of thought it's easier to understand. The cello is not a stagnant object
that remains the same throughout a performance. It is a moving, almost living thing that is continually
checked and modified, consciously or subconsciously, as discreetly as possible. Before going on stage,
for instance, a cellist plays all four strings and uses a tuner which signals the accuracy of each note. If a
string is out of tune, he or she turns the pegs or the fine tuners on the cello until the problem is fixed.
It's very easy for a cello string to go out of tune, and while audience members may not pick it up, a
cellist is constantly listening throughout a performance to make sure this does not happen. If it's not
detected soon enough, the results can be catastrophic. This is one illustration of how the instrument can
be seen as its own genre.
The end pin of a cello is an especially peculiar part of the instrument. When the cello is not
being played, the end pin rests inside the very bottom of the instrument. When it's time to come out, the
cellist turns a knob to bring it out to a certain length, and then again to secure it at that height. I've

included an image of a cello at the end of my essay (see Image B), which shows the end pin in the
bottom left corner of the image. A good length for cellists to pull out their end pins is when the cello is
tall enough for their chins to rest on it. A cellist leans into the cello to play it, and exerting too much
pressure can cause the end pin to move around and even fall in during a performance. Cellists know if
their end pin is in the wrong place or sliding back into the cello, and so they continually reposition it so
that they can perform as naturally as possible. Again, this shows the idea of the instrument being a
genre all its own.
Though the bow is not technically part of the cello itself, the two go hand-in-hand and can be
seen as such. I've included an image of a bow in my essay as well (see Image c). A cellist holds the bow
in his or her right hand and pulls the bow back and forth across the strings to make sounds. Before
each time a cello is played, the cellist twists the screw at the end of the bow to tighten the hair (shown
at the very bottom of the image), and unscrews it after playing to loosen the hair. The cellist must do
this very carefully, because if the hair on the bow is too loose, when it is pulled across the string it
won't make a sound. But if the hair on the bow is too tight, the bow can literally snap from the pressure.
Pushing down hard on the bow while playing can cause the hair to loosen, and a sensitive cellist can
feel this just by using it. So the cellist must regularly twist the screw to tighten the hair on the bow,
even in the middle of performing a song. This once more communicates that the instrument is its own
genre that must be analyzed and adapted constantly.
The above genres all have a role in playing the cello in any context, but they are most important
when a cellist gives a solo performance. They are all factors contribute to the overall quality of the
performance. The sheet music is the guide for what and how the cellist performs, and the parts of the
instrument such as the strings, the end pin and the bow serve as the tools for the cellist to accurately
play what the sheet music describes. So far these genres are physical objects that are quite discreet but
can be observed with a well-trained eye. However, when a cellist is performing with other musicians as

part of an ensemble, there are different genres that the cellist must be aware of, analyze, and adapt to.
The cellist does not just see those genres, but must sense them as well.
Genres Emphasized in an Ensemble Performance
When a cellist performs in an ensemble, the ensemble itself serves as a genre that the cellist
must use efficiently. It can both help and hurt a cellist who is trying to play well while honoring the
intention of the composer. The ensemble is composed of different sections that play different
instruments, and in those sections the musicians play different parts for that instrument. A classical
string ensemble is composed of a violin, viola, cello, and bass section. In the cello section, the first four
performers might play the first cello part, while the last four play second cello. In a solo performance, a
cellist doesn't have to consider how others play, so he or she has a bit more freedom. But in an
ensemble, a cellist has to match the tone, style, speed, volume, and bow articulations of those who are
playing the same part, as well as correctly contrast with the other parts of the section and the rest of the
ensemble. This can be conflicting when an entire section or ensemble plays incorrectly, which happens
much more often than one would think. It's very common for an ensemble to perform a piece faster
than the composer intended, and it can happen for a variety of reasons, often due to nervousness. It can
start with a single cellist who plays too quickly, and so the rest of the section speeds up so that the
single cellist doesn't sound out of place. Then the rest of the ensemble can speed up while trying to
compensate for the cellos who are all playing too fast. All of this can happen in a matter of seconds.
If the entire orchestra is playing the song too fast, and a single cellist tries to slow down and
play at the correct tempo, then they are the ones who appear to be playing incorrectly. They again must
sacrifice the intention of the composer in order to satisfy the audience, who will realize if one musician
is playing differently than the others. At all times, a cellist must analyze the ensemble in order to match
up with the part they are playing and the other parts of the section and the ensemble, and that is the top
priority; the rest of the texts (the sheet music and the instrument) fall slightly behind in importance.

Just as a cellist must analyze the ensemble, he or she must also analyze the conductor who is
leading the ensemble. The conductor directs the ensemble in a similar way that the sheet music directs
the cellist. In fact, a good conductor brings the parts of the sheet music to life and doesn't stray from the
original intention of the composer. That being said, the ensemble naturally follows the conductor
regardless of whether he or she is actually conducting correctly. Conductors can be seen in a
performance with their backs to audience and waving their batons around, but like sheet music, they
give much more information than one would think. A conductor uses constant eye contact, body
language, and baton movement to give signals to each section and the ensemble as a whole. He or she
moves the baton with a precise rhythm and technique to tell the ensemble the speed and style of the
song, and those factors are constantly changing. In Rhapsody in Blue, the conductor might begin by
turning to the cellos, establishing eye contact, and waving the baton with very small but flowing
gestures to signal them to play freely and pp (very quietly). Then the gestures might gradually get
bigger to indicate poco a poco cresc. (getting louder little by little), and stay big for the f (loud).
The conductor reads a score that shows all parts of the song at once, and he or she consistently rotates
between sections to guide the players on particularly important or challenging parts of the song.
Though performing a solo allows for more freedom and interpretation of the song, in an ensemble the
cellist must follow the conductor at all costs. Of course, they must also remember to follow the rest of
the ensemble as well.
Conclusion
In the intricate process of playing the cello, the cellist must constantly read and respond to a
wide variety of genres. This is not unlike the works of literacy scholars we have seen, such as Tony
Mirabelli and Andrea Fishman. In Learning to Serve: The Language and Literacy of Food Service
Workers, Mirabelli emphasizes the use of the menu as a genre when understanding the literacy
involved in food service (Mirabelli). Another example is in Becoming Literate: A Lesson from the
Amish, where Fishman describes a massive list of genres that contribute to the literacy of Amish

children who live and function in a purely Amish society (Fishman). A final example can be seen in
Coaches Can Read, Too: An Ethnographic Study of a Football Coaching Discourse Community
where Sean Branick discusses the several key genres to successful football coaching (Branick).
Going back to playing the cello, which genres the cellists uses depends on the context of the
performance. In a solo performance, the cellist focuses on reading the sheet music and the instrument to
perform well. In an ensemble performance, the cellist focuses less on individual technicality and more
on maintaining a balance with the ensemble and the conductor. Sometimes these genres can come into
conflict with each other, which can make the process much more difficult. Many people don't realize
the sheer amount of literacy involved in playing the cello, and think that the same rules apply for
whatever the circumstances of the performance. As I've shown, this isn't always true. There is much
more going on behind the scenes. No matter what context, playing the cello is a rich and satisfying
experience, and if done correctly the audience ends up satisfied as well. Understanding the roles of
these genres in different contexts leads to a greater understanding and appreciation of the cello and its
complex existence. Furthermore, it leads to a deeper understanding of music at its foundation, in its
rawest and most purest form. And with the joy that music brings to life, it's a very beautiful thing.

Works Cited
Branick, Sean. Coaches Can Read, Too: An Ethnographic Study of a Football Coaching Discourse
Community. Wardle and Downs 557-573.
Esposito, Tony, and George Gershwin. Rhapsody in Blue - Cello Sheet Music. Digital image. Online
Sheet Music. N.p., n.d. Web. 6 Oct. 2013.
Fishman, Andrea R. "Becoming Literate: A Lesson from the Amish." (n.d.): n. pag. Rpt. in Producing
Adult Readers: 1930-50. N.p.: n.p., n.d. Print.
Mirabelli, Tony.Learning to Serve: The Language and Literacy of Food Service Workers. Wardle and
Downs 539-554.
Parts of the Cello. Digital image. The Music Store. N.p., n.d. Web. 6 Oct. 2013.
Parts of a Cello Bow. Digital image. N.p., n.d. Web. 6 Oct. 2013.
<http://www.sim.iinet.net.au/images/bow.gif>.
Wardle, Elizabeth, and Doug Downs. Writing about Writing: A College Reader. Boston: Bedford/St.
Martins, 2011. Print.