'You've got yourself a Bechstein,' Clark exclaimed as we wrapped up the voicing.
I had made the trip to Portland to check out all the work he had put into my piano over the last what nearly six months since two burly dudes had wheeled it out my front door down the stairs and into their truck as we followed them north to their next pickup us on our way to work.
It was cold out. Not as cold as nearly a year ago when I first went through the doors of Michelle's wearing my canvas Toms and a beatup Mountain Hardware fleece. I remember the light. Purple. Pale. I liked it cold then. And I liked it cold now. Was supposed to dip into the twenties.
But this time was different. I wasn't here to find out what their deal was. I was here to find out how my piano sounded with new hammers, a couple tied-off bass strings and a completely reworked action and damper system. I had only spoken to Clark over the phone so this was the first time meeting him. He appeared from the backroom and we shook hands then he whisked back there me in tow.
And there it was.
I had seen it a couple of months ago. Looked sort of lonely sitting in the middle of a big room lined with old grands on their sides and uprights in various states of disrepair. He asked if I wanted to take notes as he recited to me all the work he had done. When he came up for air he sort of motioned for me to sit and said it would probably be best if I played.
I hadn't touched it in half a year. I rattled off some big chords up and down then a theme I have been working on for 'Singularity.' Nothing much. It was hard for me to get into it with Clark eyeing me from behind and another technician over in the far corner tinkering on an upright taking this key out putting that key back in all under the harsh buzz of the fluorescents. But I tried to ease into the moment of playing my piano for the first time in months as best I could knowing it was important. Had to get a feel of the sound of it despite knowing this was not my living room and I was far from ease.
Instantly though I knew it was too bright in the treble. Clark nodded and switched me places after pulling out his voicing tools. He carefully went to work on the D two octaves above middle C three ... four times shuffling the action in and out between each. On the fourth there it was - I heard it instantly. The softening I was looking for. I nodded instantly and we caught a gaze that told me he heard it too. Then he quickly went to work on the couple of octaves above that before sliding the action back in to have me play it again.
I could tell a difference and we agreed we shouldn't do any more until it had a chance to settle back in its home. Didn't want to get to a point that couldn't be undone.
And that was that.
As he worked on tying off the action so as to keep it from getting damaged on its ride back north we chatted a bit about his upcoming trip to Alaska to do some tuning for someone's Bechstein. How we both had it on our lists of places to visit. How the scale of the mountains would be hard to comprehend. At some point Katie had slipped out to go visit a friend who lived nearby. I asked Clark a bit about his background as he told me some about my piano.
He had never worked on a piano this old. It was caught in the middle of the years where the piano took its biggest (and more or less last) transformation ... when the modern Renner action was developed along with a full plate and overstrung scale design. Mine has hints of them all and as he pointed out was way ahead of its time. He told me how frankly he was surprised that it turned out as beautifully as it did and how he wasn't sure it would when he decided to undertake this little project I presented him. I asked him how often it was that it didn't turn out?
Before answering he seemed anxious to tell me how he had agreed to take the restoration on despite the uncertainty because I had been into 'tone and touch' from the start and nothing else. I don't care and didn't about the cosmetics of the beast ... just wanted it to sound its potential that I could always hear from the first time I sat down to play it after uncrating it on a dock in Seattle and hauling it south to heave it into my cramped living room. And for which Clark gave me credit - admitting to me even he couldn't necessarily hear it when he first started working on it. But because what was important to me was what was important to him he liked the project from the beginning.
And then he told me it's happened less and less as he's gained more and more years of experience - the not turning out in the end thing. But that this instrument was one-of-a-kind and worth the risk. And sure I knew in the back of my mind he was selling me on the work he had done and thereby his expertise and potential future service should I need him to come to Seattle (which I very well may) but I didn't get the sense that was why he was telling me all he was telling me. He had an honesty in him that I picked up immediately and was only reassured for feeling the more we went back and forth.
He seemed surprised at what I all knew about this instrument that more or less controls my life the bit about the way the upper treble hammers needing to be in the exact spot when they hit the very very short strings in that section because the strings are divided into sevenths and the hammers hit on the first node a seventh its length from the tuning pins to avoid unbearable overtones. I got a raised eyebrow and a quirky smile for that. 'How do you know so much?' he asked me wryly. Short of a good answer I quickly replied that I sort of like pianos and left it at that.
The action tied off and secured back in the belly - the fallboard closed and music desk reinserted - I could tell Clark was anxious to be off to his next appointment for which he was no doubt already late. And I felt better. I arranged over a quick phone call to Lotof no doubt enjoying his Sunday off away from the shop to include a follow-up appointment back here at home in the spring. Give my piano some time to settle. Break in. Play it a bit. Then have Clark make the trip up here to do the final voicing and adjust anything that may get out of whack over the next few months.
And that then really was that. It was getting dark out despite not yet even being five o'clock. Before I could leave though there was one last thing I wanted to do. No one was there except Kim sitting politely at his desk mulling over some paperwork. As we wrapped up the payment I said I was going to wander around quick to play one of the new polished and shiny Bechsteins to compare to mine. He pointed to the back and suggested I try out the nine-foot D on the stage.
I wandered over to it. Set down the box of the original hammers from my 1875 Bechstein Clark had handed to me on a metal folding chair off to the side and sat down on the bench. There was definitely an air about this thing. A solidness and power to it that impressed me. I played the pianissimo theme of 'Singularity' up to its explosive section where it hits the F major. Had to restrain myself. Maybe he was on the phone or something and I was too reserved to really pound on a two-hundred thousand dollar piano that wasn't mine. It did sound amazing.
But not like No. 8056.
It didn't have the same history. The same story. The same character of sound. Built from trees felled pre-industrialization by hands now long gone - it was too new. And so I found the old Blüthner nearby that was here last time when I was talking to Lotof about having my Bechstein restored. I played the same theme. Didn't catch the price but I'm sure it was expensive. It had been completely restored afterall. But mine sounded better than it, too.
Satisfied then - I got up. Zipped up the collar on my old fleece. A delivery kid had come in while I had been playing the Blüthner and was talking to Kim about another late night. As I passed them I waved and thanked him and he smiled back. With the of the box of old hammers tucked under my arm I pulled open the door and headed out down Stark as the streetlights flickered on and my breath froze in the November northwest air.
