Level 1: Beginner
While I'm busy tinkering with tempo, dynamics, proper technique, and of course playing the right notes in the right order, my brain temporarily shuts off the valve of outside concerns and focuses on the musical challenge. Fears about the pandemic and the state of the world, lamentations about how life has been upended, grief about losing people to illness, politics, and change, fade away as my fingers glide over the strings.
Practicing the harp has become an oasis of peace for my troubled brain. But sometimes I wonder how my harp is coping. Every time I sit down to practice and release the tension on the strings, I worry they will break, or the stress will damage the frame. It just seems like too much for one instrument to handle. As if to express my frustration, my harp strings sometimes break, a sharp popping sounding like a gunshot.
After five weeks of lessons, my teacher paused and asked if I had ever considered switching to a larger harp. She gently suggested that the harp I had might not suit my musical tastes, abilities, and enthusiasm.
“You're playing the harp too hard,” she says. “If you want to grow musically, and don't want to have to fight with the harp in the process, you should buy a bigger harp.”
I knew that one day I would need to upgrade to an instrument with a wider range and strings and levers. Harps increase in price exponentially as they get larger, so I figured I could learn the basics on my current harp for a year or two. Lever harps average between $2,500 and $5,000, while full-size pedal harps average between $20,000 and $100,000. This forced me to significantly accelerate my plans to buy a second harp.
Level 2: Beginner-Intermediate
I don’t turn to my harp and say, “It’s not you, it’s me.” We both know this won’t work. No matter how gently I try to pluck the strings, the notes continue to thunder rather than ring delicately before fading away.
During the COVID-19 lockdown, I picked up the ukulele as an easy instrument to play, both in terms of cost and instruction, and began learning. I practiced diligently every day in my ample free time, participating in Zoom classes packed with kids stuck at home. But even as my ukulele skills improved, my musical passions were elsewhere: the harp.
I can't say exactly what attracted me to the harp. I like its sound and the lack of frets. Even if you're a beginner or haven't touched the harp in years, the sound is beautiful enough. Unlike the violin, it doesn't sound like you're fighting. In fact, since I started playing the harp, my neighbors sometimes stop by my window to listen. No one complains if I play after midnight.
I took harp lessons in high school, but stopped when I went to college and left my teacher and rental instrument behind. Still, the harp remained my favorite, even though it was expensive and highly impractical. Modern orchestral harps are expensive, cumbersome giants. The pedal harps you see in orchestras are about 6 feet tall and weigh about 80 pounds. I never thought I would end up playing a pedal harp, instead longing for a smaller lever harp, which uses levers instead of pedals to change keys. From time to time, I would idly browse online listings for used harps. One day, I came across a medium-sized lever harp with 26 strings that seemed within my budget.
Buying an instrument during a pandemic is not an easy task. I considered ordering a harp online, but buying one without inspecting and hearing it in person seemed risky. I emailed the seller and arranged to meet at a park near her house. This being Portland, no one paid us any attention as we chatted over the edge of a picnic bench, holding a harp between us. We played a few scales, trying to balance the harp on the bench, and, pleased with the sound, we parted ways, agreeing to purchase my first harp. Now I had to carry it home.
Harp playing is not intuitive. The last time I had formal instruction was 10 years ago, and my fingers hadn't remembered anything. But my brain remembered bits and pieces like, “Keep your fingers curled! Thumbs up!” Proper playing seems to be a combination of what looks most graceful and what produces the best tone. Most beginners, myself included, start with the dreaded “claw hand.” I practiced keeping my hands gently curled and closing my fingers into my palm after each note. I played endless variations of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” instilling in my partner a newfound dislike for the piece. Plucking chords was especially satisfying, and multiple strings seemed to ring out very intensely. The calluses on my fingers grew rapidly with daily practice.
To practice, I have to get the harp out of the way, wedged between the desk and the washing machine. If I eliminate all places where the harp is exposed to direct sunlight and heating vents, there are very few places to put it. The harp is top-heavy, so it's best to tuck it in a corner to cushion it if it falls. That's where it is now. Once I set it up, I tilt it between my legs and lean it against my right shoulder. When it's in the right position, it doesn't feel heavy. When I pluck the strings, the vibrations travel down the soundboard and seep into my body. I practice different scales to warm up, explore the techniques and pitfalls of the piece I'm practicing, and count time quietly. It's a never-ending process.
Level 3: Upper beginner
My harp teacher told me about a 36-string maple lever harp for sale. It has high string tension and is spaced like a concert harp. It's available locally and you can rent it to try before you buy. I was put off by the price, but I decided to give it a try.
When I get home with the larger harp, it feels right. My partner was shocked by its size when I tipped it in through the door and was momentarily silent. But when I play, I realize I'm not fighting with it to get the sound I want. The taut strings withstand the pressure of my fingers as I play melodies. The levers move up and down smoothly. At this point, I don't have to constantly check if my hands are in the right position, and most of my focus is on the music. Its size makes it comfortable to sit and play. No need to support it or use a stand. Unlike its smaller, more delicate sibling, this harp is sturdy. I joke with my teacher that I could use it as a battering ram. I knew on my first day with it that I needed this harp, or one like it, to improve.
I moved a lot when I was younger, and I still struggle with breakups. You'd think the art of losing would be easier to master if I were more accustomed to it, but loss, in real life and fiction, still haunts me. If I were reading a never-ending story, I'd be perfectly happy. But in this case, I think it's all too easy to say goodbye to my little harp. I wonder if I should be ashamed of myself for being ready to move on.
When I first started, this little harp was perfect. It was by my side as I navigated the hardships of the pandemic, absorbing all my tension and putting up with my initial fumblings. But I was ready for change, and honestly, I think the harp was too. I ended up selling it to another beginner who wanted a smaller, lighter instrument she could play while traveling. It just seemed like a less stressful existence for the harp.
This new harp probably won't be my permanent harp — my teacher has already hinted that she might prefer a pedal harp with higher string tension — but for now, when I play my new harp at home, the strings ring out true and clear. I will learn how to produce more complex sounds such as glissandos and bell-like harmonic effects. My ambition has peaked and I want to perform. The Nutcracker Suite One day I decided to try playing the “Imperial March.” Star WarsI wake up my partner, who knows the tune even when he's asleep. I still struggle with the dynamic changes from loud to soft and back again, but I'm getting better. The strings fly under my fingers, and the harp sings, happy to be released from silence.
I recorded a video of myself playing “Amazing Grace” on my new harp and sent it to family and friends who asked about my new hobby. I thought nothing more of it until I heard that my partner's mother, a pharmacist, was playing the recording for people while giving them their vaccines. I feel like I've made my small contribution to the vaccination effort, and I hope that the newly vaccinated find it comforting, not unpleasant.
I grab my harp and head to the park to join my harp circle, who are meeting in person for the first time since the pandemic began. As I load my instrument into my car, I regret the life decisions that got me here and wonder why I picked up such a bulky instrument.
It feels surreal to be surrounded by people again, playing together. The music comes easily, unlike the conversation during breaks. The small talk is tongue twister, the words unfamiliar and ponderous. When the performance is over, I walk away with a stack of sheet music someone gave me, a variety of tips for playing the harp outdoors, and a sense of trepidation and excitement, like I'm riding a galloping horse that I don't know how to stop.
Level 4: Beginner-Intermediate
Shortly after our first meeting, I received an email from the harp circle saying that future meetings would be held online due to the rising number of infections. Closed again, I return to being a solitary performer. My fingers have no time to rest as harp music grows in complexity. Haydn, Bach, Salzedo, Mozart, Grandjany pull me away from the gloom of a life suspended. I focus on arpeggios, harmonics, new chord patterns. I must be precise to play resonant harmonics. The sound dissipates my fear.
***
April Choi is a Portland-based author. Her work has appeared in newspapers and magazines across the country and abroad. She's since bought a bigger harp. This story first appeared in Oregon Humanities magazine's “Beyond the Margins” series (read the original here).