Lesson Learned - 10/24/12

Trombone slide dent rods are also great for removing gooseneck dents near the taper receiver. I find I usually can't reach that area with a dent rod approaching from the tuning slide end, because the dent is usually in the curve of the gooseneck and the rod can't get past that curve. Alternately, trying to use a dent rod - one that you need to apply pressure to - is ineffective when inserted through the taper end. You need to have a great length of rod outside the vise to do that, and that length will just flex, making it impossible to apply any significant pressure. But the handslide rods are nice and long, so they reach in through the taper end, they're thick and solid, so they don't flex much, and you can get pretty close to the diameter of the gooseneck for tapping.

Lesson Learned - 10/12/12

It's been quite a while since I've written anything in here. Wedding planning sure does take up a lot of time. But now that the wedding's over, I have no more responsibilities ever again! I just need to sit around being waited on for the rest of my life.

Right?

Well, despite the questionable validity of that statement, my mind is as sharp as ever at work, and I do continue to learn a great deal. My most recent struggle this week was trying to get better with the "Sir James" flute mandrel, which I still need to spend a lot more time with. I do think I'm very gradually getting better with it, but I need to stew over my experiences with that tool before I can clearly articulate what it's taught me thus far.

My lesson learned today was something simple, but something that I need to write down so that I'll remember it - Bach Stradivarius trumpets take .080" thick washers on the valve stem to get the correct porting. True, 080" is just ever so slightly too thick, but I imagine that with compression over time (even though the synthetic washers we use barely compress), the porting will be pretty much right on. I need to see an instrument or two come back with the washers, though, before I can be sure of that.

Lesson Learned - 8/24/12

A neat little trick for soldering on silver-
First heat the joint a little bit, then flux it. Continue to heat it until any excess flux has burned off. Then allow the joint to cool, and use a graphite pencil to color a fairly thick outline of the part you're soldering. In my case, this meant coloring around the S braces and casing brace on a new trumpet leadpipe. Leave a small gap in the graphite where you want your feed point to be. Then proceed with soldering as normal - heat the joint and carefully flow solder in, using only your one feed point. The graphite acts as a barrier to prevent solder from bubbling out of the joint and getting on your otherwise pristine silver plating. Just be aware that if you flux the joint again, it will burn off some of the graphite and leave an opening for solder to escape. It's not a perfect fix, but it worked extremely well for me, and the graphite cleaned up easily. I'm not sure if my success was due to my being extra careful while flowing the solder or adhering closely to the "one feed point only" rule, but the graphite certainly didn't hurt except for adding about a minute of labor to each joint. I imagine it could be even more useful on gold plate, which is more prone than silver to allow solder to flow wantonly.

Lesson Learned - 8/14/12

On a saxophone today, I had a G key where the articulation arm that opens and closes the octave key was crashing into the high E key hinge tube. In fact the collision was so serious that it was preventing the G key from closing. When the articulation arm hit the E key, the G key was still about 1/4" from closing. My first though was "This is a crappy off-brand instrument, and I can't believe anyone was even using it. This kid must stand around on the marching band field and pretend to play." It really is a crappy off-brand instrument, but I couldn't even fathom the inoperability of it. I set the thing down to come up with a game plan while I worked on something else, and only later did I notice a huge dent under the rib that supports the upper G and high E key posts. "Of course!" I thought. The reason the instrument is in the shop is that it was dropped. The customer only asked to have the Low C key guard straightened and reattached (which was imperative, because it was nearly flattened). Foolishly I just went ahead and did that, then started making some minor adjustments to the instrument when I first came across the problem with the G key. Have I not told myself numerous times before that when the customer asks for a specific job, I should always fully inspect the instrument before starting? And I am doubly guilty because I knew the instrument had been dropped, and didn't even bother to consider that it probably sustained more damage than a busted up keyguard (although to be fair, it looks like the key guard took the brunt of the force. It was really busted up). Dropped instruments should receive extra-thorough inspections before starting work.
Alas, maybe I'll learn someday.

On another note, here's a story that APM's Marketplace program did on instrument repairs in New Orleans: http://www.marketplace.org/topics/life/new-orleans-musician-finds-niche-instrument-repair

Lesson Learned - 7/11/12

On Yamaha trumpets that use a waterkey assembly where the saddle and nipple are integrated into the same piece, the distance between the saddle and nipple is different on the main tuning slide assembly and the 3rd slide assembly. In other words, you can't just take a MTS assembly, bend it to fit the curve of the 3rd slide crook, solder it on, and expect that the 3rd slide waterkey will fit on and properly cover the nipple. In reality the nipple will be just out of reach of the waterkey cork, though using a mushroom cork might fix that.


Have you figured out that I tried to do that very thing today? I didn't have any 3rd slide saddle/nipple assemblies, but I did have some for the main tuning slide, so I fit one to the 3rd slide, solderered it on, and only then realized that the 3rd slide waterkey was too short to reach the hole, and using a main tuning slide waterkey was ugly because the tail sticks out so far at such a weird angle. Through some careful bending I made the cork just b-a-r-e-l-y cover, but it wasn't a pretty job and I'm not especially proud of it. Although the saddle/nipple assembly did end up fitting nicely and soldered on quite neatly.

Lesson Learned - 7/10/12

I was going to write a post about something I've read about how a true man always keeps his composure and is in control of his emotions. This is something I try to keep in mind as I get frustrated at work, which always happens at least once a day to varying degrees. I was going to write about how well I've been doing with maintaining my composure under duress at work, then today I lost that control for a few minutes while battling a trumpet and let my emotions and language get away from me. It passed soon and I felt fine and got the instrument finished in fine fashion, but I should have been more aware of what I was doing when I started to get fed up so that I could take a step back and calm down.


Maybe I'll write more about it on another day when I'm feeling better.

Lesson Learned - 7/9/12

Today M and I both got in trouble by assuming that the other works like we do. Since we frequently help each other with projects or finish each other's work, this is a dangerous assumption to make. I got into trouble putting a trombone back together after Mike had taken it apart. The horn had an F attachment with ball joint linkage, and he left the linkage screw in the ball joint when taking it apart, so it was on the end of the trigger assembly.. The screw isn't held into the ball joint by anything – the screw threads into the stop arm. Without thinking, I picked up the trigger to put it back on the horn and promptly dropped the linkage screw. 5 minutes of searching later, I'd found it, but I wouldn't have lost that time if I'd been more observant when putting things back together. I always take the linkage screws out and drop them in a parts bin, precisely because I'm afraid of dropping them from the ball joint, but I shouldn't have assumed that Mike would do the same (although he helped me search for the screw and, realizing the frustration of the situation, will probably be a reformed man from now on). Mike got into trouble as well, putting together a trumpet that I'd taken apart. Maybe we should have each just finished our own projects. Anyway, he took the parts bin that held the valve stems and caps and started grabbing parts out of it to put the thing back together. He must usually mark the stems and caps to match them with their corresponding valves (not that there's usually any harm in mixing them up), which I do sometimes but didn't on this occasion. I just laid the parts carefully in order in the bin, 1 in front and 3 in back. Before I had a chance to tell him that, he'd already mixed up the parts as he searched for markings. He assumed I would have done the same thing he does (which, to be fair, I should have), and that assumption ended up totally negating my own organization system (but again, it kind of sucked in the first place).

When working so closely together, in a capacity where we often have to collaborate and finish each other's work, we can't afford to lose time by being careless and assuming things are set up in a certain way. When picking up another person's work, one must always remember what things can go wrong, even if we regularly take steps to prevent those eventualities in our own work. Giving a coworker the benefit of the doubt is necessary to maintain a respectful working environment, but being observant is equally important.

Lesson Learned - 7/6/12

Today's lesson is simple. Any Keilwerth saxophone stamped R.O.C. was made by Jupiter. These are all student model instruments, and I think they're all model number ST-90 regardless of size. You can't get parts for these from Buffet, which owns Keilwerth, but you can get them from Jupiter since the instruments they made for Keilwerth are pretty much identical to the Jupiter student line instruments.

Lesson Learned - 7/5/12

M and I frequently have problems with overexpanding flute head joint tenons. It's an especially frequent problem on Armstrongs, which have a pretty narrow diameter on the head joint tenon. Our shrinker is just a bit too big to properly shrink an Armstrong once it's overexpanded and that means we have to spend a lot of time lapping. The shrinker will grab then tenon, it just can't be closed far enough to press the diameter to a narrower size. Even with a tenon die that's supposedly sized to Armstrong head joints (.777” I think), I've still expanded a few head joints to the point that they don't fit, though I suspect that has more to do with problems in the socket.

Mike came up with a trick today, though, that seems to shrink these tenons a little bit when they're overexpanded, which at least makes for less time spent lapping. Like I said, the shrinker grabs the tenon tightly but just doesn't shrink far enough to permanently collapse the diameter. Mike put the shrinker on the tenon, then chucked it in a vise sideways (so the vise wasn't exerting any more shrinking force), then drew the tenon through the shrinker. It seems to have worked, and I think with a little paraffin added in to the mix for lubrication and space-filling, it could be a reasonably effective technique.

Lesson Learned - 7/3/12

Today's is another life lesson. While on our trip out west, Steph and I spend several days driving down the Pacific Coast Highway from Seattle to San Francisco. Along the way we listened to a few podcasts in the car, and I was particularly struck by an episode of The Nerdist featuring an interview with Rainn Wilson. The whole interview was over an hour, and I could hardly do it justice by trying to summarize it here, but the part of the discussion that stuck with me was Rainn's emphasis on the need to live in the moment. Here's a link to the podcast: http://www.nerdist.com/2010/10/nerdist-podcast-39-rainn-wilson/. I know that I am personally guilty of trying to live in the future, or less often the past. I constantly find myself whistfully thinking about leaving a particular moment, looking forward to something in the future that will surely be better than right now, and will bring me fulfillment and happiness. Then later, when that thing I've been looking forward to finally arrives, I'm still looking forward, excited for some other thing that I'm again certain will bring me contentment. I almost never stop and realize the absurdity of my mindset, of my whole condition, the state of being perpetually on the edge of climax and never being able to stop and appreciate the value of now.

Rainn Wilson made an excellent example of this flaw by pointing it out in how many people eat. We anticipate a meal, then anticipate the specific food we will eat, then anticipate that first bite. Our excitement becomes more and more focused until it's down to a single moment that we know will bring the joy that's always just out of reach. But almost instantaneously, as soon as we reach that moment, our brain shifts. We start looking forward to dessert, or the next drink, or happen after the meal, or maybe something further in the future. Suddenly the food is gone from the plate, the course is over, our stomachs are full, but we have at best a foggy recollection of the meal, of the tastes, the conversation, the atmosphere of the whole experience. We seem unable to even take the time to enjoy each bite or to take in the flavors of the food, even when that food has been something we've looked forward to. Maybe this is an American trait, a flaw in our desire to always improve our lives that ultimately causes us to never be happy with what we have, or perhaps it's a greater human trait. Whatever the case, it's something I'd like to work on, and the food thing seems like a good place to start. Lately, as I eat, I try to take a few bites and really savor them, analyze the flavors and textures, and appreciate the complexity of the food, what it took to get to me, and how many things had to conspire to lead to a single moment in which I bite, chew, and swallow. Inevitably when I do this I also try to internalize the entirety of that moment, not just the food, and take pause to envelope myself in all the trappings of that specific instance in time. It makes me slow down, sometimes just for a few minutes, and it seems a very good way of reminding myself that I must live the time I am in right now.

As Rainn said "Enjoy your burrito, America."

Lesson Learned - 7/2/12

Today's lesson isn't about BIR. It's more of a personal life lesson, or more accurately a lesson I'm trying to teach myself. BIR happens in my life, though, so it's really not that far off point, is it?

I returned on Sunday from a vacation with my fiance out west. While there we stopped in San Francisco for a couple of days, and during that time we went around the city with a friend of hers who I'll call Tori, because that's her name. My interaction with Tori had been limited in the four years that Steph and I have been together, mostly because she moved out to Florida shortly after we started dating, and then on to San Francisco. In the brief time I'd spent around her, though, I'd rather presumptuously formed an opinion of her that she was prone to flights of fancy and maybe even a bit self-absorbed. I guess I saw that she's the kind of person who does what feels right and what she wants to do, and I interpreted that as being inconsiderate. Of course, I was wrong about that, which became pretty plainly evident in the few hours we spent with her in San Francisco. I should have been more self-aware and realized before then that it was ridiculous of me to form a critical opinion of her with so little time spent together.

Beyond that, though, I realized that Tori had an important lesson to teach me. Beyond doing what is good for her, she seems to be uniquely at peace with others doing whatever is best for them. She sees people doing things that I might internalize and get upset over – little things, mostly – and just doesn't seem to care. Not that she's indifferent in a bad way, but the attitude she exudes is one of “you're doing what you do, and that is of no consequence to me.” Whereas I get angry when a person fails to use a turn signal, or drives by my apartment with their music too loud, or uses profanity in public, people like Tori see those same things and it doesn't even seem to register on their radar. Perhaps that's because she's so driven and focused on whatever thing she is doing in that moment that she doesn't have time to notice. Perhaps it's because she just knows how not to take things personally, especially when those things have nothing to do with her. I tend to have the opposite problem.

One could take Tori's lesson of acceptance to an extreme and not ever hold others responsible for their actions, but I can't see that type of indifference in her. One must be able to distinguish when the actions of a person directly affect us (or affect others) in an immediate and negative way, and when the actions of a person have no consequence. If they have no direct personal consequence, then there needs to be some other reason to intervene. Maybe to speak up on another's behalf, for instance. The point is to not take someone else's actions as a direct affront or sign of disrespect when they clearly arent't. That's something I've been guilty of a lot in the past.

Even when another's actions do directly affect me, there is a line to be drawn when holding someone responsible can serve a purpose (see 7/10 post), and when the effort of holding them responsible for something minute is greater than the impact one could hope to have by doing so. In other words, you need to pick your battles. And sometimes you need to not concern yourself with what others are doing, because if you got angry at everyone who you ever saw commit a wrong or break the rules, you'd either go hoarse or have a heart attack. It's a nuanced thing, knowing when to get upset and when not to, but I think a good rule is to remain calm and let things go more often than you get get to you, and save your energies for when you may actually need them.

Worry more about living your own life than about how others live theirs – that may be the best way to summarize what Tori taught me.

Lesson Learned - 6/13/12

Estimates take a long time. Today i spent about 5.5 hours doing estimates on 130 instruments for a non-profit in Philadelphia. Doing them carefully to make sure I didn't miss anything - and thus didn't have to eat any extra cost later - was mentally exhausting. Stooping over to open cases and then carry them all out the van was physically exhausting.


All things considered, a productive day, and always a rewarding experience to feel like you're helping more kids get exposure to instrumental music. Plus I met a really nice guy who helped me carry the instruments out to the car. He stood to gain nothing from helping me except a little bit of exercise and conversation. I think that must be definition of a kindness.

Lesson Learned - 6/12/12

You can determine whether a leadpipe on a Bach Stradivarius trumpet is lightweight or not simply by measuring the outside diameter of the leadpipe. If it's the same as a standard Strad, it's normal weight. Narrower, and it's lightweight. That makes perfect sense, since the diameter of the tube wall has to be thinner, but the diameter of the bore has to be the same as a standard mouthpipe. Well, unless it's reversed or "O" style or a different number pipe or has slightly thicker plating or the moon is waxing.

Well, anyway, it helped me today, but only after I'd ordered the wrong part. Another indicator is that lightweight mouthpipes rot much sooner than standard weight.

Lesson Learned - 6/11/12

In the past I've used something of a cheat to regulate rental alto saxophones. Not THE Cheat mind you.


Now that I've spent the last 5 minutes checking on HomestarRunner and reading about it's decline, I'm back. Seems that site hasn't been updated since December 22, 2010. Makes me feel not so bad about not updating this for a week.


My cheat was to weaken the spring tension on the G# pad so that it wouldn't have so much lifting power when the bell keys are pressed. That made it easier to regulate F# to G#, especially if the F# wasn't perfectly level, because the regulation screw didn't need to be set as low. The trick was especially effective on Yamaha student instruments, where the F#-G# articulation arm is actually ON the F# pad cup, often causing the side of the F# pad to lift up when the G# key is activated and is trying to open.


That cheat worked pretty well (as I said, I only did it only rental instruments, and then only as a last resort when I needed to finish one quickly). Today, though, I found a problem with it. Weakening the spring tension does indeed make the G# less likely to lift up the F#, but if they are slightly under-regulated (as is often the case when using that cheat), there's nothing the stop air pressure from lifting the key. Unfortunately for me, playing a saxophone creates a lot of air pressure. While test playing an instrument today I did indeed blow open the G# key when pressing the bell keys. My cheat was exposed for the fraud that it was!


That's just a lesson that there are no shortcuts for a job well done. Looks like I'm back to carefully leveling F# pads.

Lesson Learned - 6/1/12

Hooray for June! Today, while trying to solder a new slide lug onto a Silvertone trombone - which the internet says is a Sears instrument - I was having a lot of trouble getting solder to flow into the joint. Because the lug had  no lacquer on it and was made of brass, every time I touched the solder wire to it, solder would just flow onto the surface of the lug itself. My coworker, M, reminded me of a trick I'd long forgotten - to tin the part before soldering it. That just means that before placing the lug on the instrument, I should have heated it and put a little bit of solder on the bottom surface that was going to contact the trombone. Then I could have either stuck it on and just heated it until the solder flowed and adhered to the handslide, or at the very least if I still needed to add more solder, it would have been easier to get it to flow into the joint if there was already solder there. It's frustrating sometimes how easy it is to forget a technique like that when you don't use it for a while. I need to keep exercising my vocabulary of skills.

Lesson Learned - 5/31/12

While finishing up that Laskey-Pinc trumpet from yesterday, I had all the tubes on the 3rd valve slide parallel and aligned with each other, but just couldn't get the slide to move smoothly. On a professional trumpet, that slide should move effortlessly with the slightest push or pull, and this is only achieved through perfect alignment of the slide tubes. I was stumped as to why it wouldn't behave, and I kept measuring spans and checking alignment, but everything I saw indicated that the tubes were parallel. Finally, in a bit of frustration, I moved one of the tubes slightly out of parallel. I pushed the upper tube on the instrument up a little bit, slightly increasing the span between it and the lower tube. 


Eureka! The slide moved like butter. Better than butter, really, because butter isn't a really great trumpet lubricant. With a few more tweaks I had it moving beautifully. I don't fully understand why that solved it, and I believe my measurements were accurate in showing that the tubes were parallel when things just weren't working, but it's a tidbit I'll keep in mind the next time I'm aligning slides.

Lesson Learned - 5/30/12

Today I attempted to realign the 3rd valve slide on a Laskey-Pinc gold-plated trumpet. In addition to the slide being out of alignment the 3rd slide stop screw, which is threaded through the brace on that slide, was really tight and wasn't threading in at a right angle to the slide. It was slightly askew.


I found that the problem with the alignment was on the outer slide. The span between upper and lower tubes was not parallel, being about .005" wider at the ends of the tubes than at the brace that holds the slide in alignment. As I expected, the upper tube (which is an outer slide - the lower tube is an inner slide) was bent upward right at the brace. I expended a great deal of energy carefully trying different approaches to bend that slide back into alignment and make it parallel with the bottom tube, but after about an hour of trying it hadn't budged at all, even with a jig a put together that used a trombone handslide mandrel and a table leg for leverage. At that point I had to take a step back and consider this: If all the pressure I had exerted on the slide hadn't moved it one iota, then I was clearly going about things in the wrong way. Something had to have forced it out of alignment, but if the slides were that tough then it couldn't have been some conventional damage like a bump or a twisting of the slide. Something more complex and far stronger was at play.


It was at that point I began to reconsider the slide stop screw. The threads through the brace were really messy and looked chewed up. This in comparison to everything else on the instrument, which appeared to have been carefully machined, aligned, and assembled. It is a handmade trumpet, after all. It then occured to me that the stop screw threading through the brace at a skewed angle couldn't have been part of the original design, and it was likely that the screw had been cross-threaded by some mistake at some point. I called the customer to see if he could shed any light on the matter and, sure enough, he told me that he'd recently had the instrument apart for cleaning. While reassembling it he started to have trouble getting that screw to thread into the brace, so he repeatedly ran it forward and backed it out incrementally, in exactly the same way one would cut threads with a tap. That explanation made perfect sense, and it suddenly occurred to me why everything was going wrong.


When he was having trouble threading that screw, it was because he had started to crossthread it. Normally a crossthreaded screw will only turn a few rotations or less before completely binding up, but because the screw is made of steel, which is much harder than the brass in the brace, he was able to actually recut the threads in the post at an angle by being patient and running it in and out like a tap. Unfortunately the screw, having no reliefs in it like a tap, didn't just cut material out of the threads and clear it away. It displaced some metal, too, and in the tight confines of that brace stuck between two tubes, that metal went up and out, effectively making the brace taller by a practically microscopic amount. That was enough, though, to cause the brace to push the tubes farther apart, forcing the upper tube to bend slightly upward right where it is soldered to the brace. That was why my prior attempts to straighten the upper tube had failed - because the amount of force required to bend a piece of tubing in the exact spot where it's soldered to a rigid and substantial brace is massive. Somehow, though, that little steel screw had managed to put just that amount of force on the slide and cause the alignment issue.


With that little bit of detective work done, I was able to plan a new strategy. I called the manufacturer and actually got to talk with Ron Pinc, who makes all the slides, and checked the correct thread pitch for that screw (it's 4-40). Then I recut the threads in the brace (after running out to the store to buy a new 4-40 tap, as I discovered ours to be broken) and on the screw. With the screw working properly again, I moved on to bending the tubes back into alignment. Remembering that I saw an amusing infographic a few days ago about tourniquets and how they can be used to apply and maintain incredible amounts of pressure, I rigged up a tourniquet around the slide tubes right at the brace point, and literally pulled the upper tube back down toward the lower tube. Success! With just a couple of tries I was able to straighten the upper tube and realign the slide. A few more tweaks to align it to the slide tubes on the instrument are needed tomorrow, and things will be back in working order.


It may seem mundane, and even I didn't think such a small job would merit so much writing, but I was excited to do some real diagnostic detective work and discover how the damage had been done to that instrument in the first place. If you can figure what caused something not to work, you can almost invariably figure out a way to make it work again. Through patience and a methodical approach, I was able to just that, and it felt pretty great.


UPDATE: I also learned that you can't wipe excess solder from a solder joint on gold plate, because the solder will just go EVERYWHERE.

Lesson Learned - 5/29/12

When attempting to remove a stuck hinge screw from a saxophone, a good last resort measure is to unsolder one of the posts holding the screw in place (ideally an unthreaded post), then get a good firm grip on the newly exposed area of the screw with a set of parallel jaw pliers and slowly twist the screw out. This approach works particularly well if the head of the screw is chewed up from repeated attempts to back it out with a screwdriver.

Lesson Learned - 5/25/12

If you have only one set of dies for making screws (metric or english), then you have limited capabilities for making screws. But have if you both metric and english Screw Check'rs, you can sometimes use them to help you get around a lack of properly sized dies. The other day I needed to make a stop arm screw for a bass trombone rotor, but it was a European instrument with metric screws, and we only have American taps and dies. I needed a 3.0x0.5 metric screw (3.0 mm major screw diameter, 0.5 mm thread length), but we didn't have any on hand, so I was in a tight spot. My work-around was to cut a screw with 5-40 American threads (0.125 in. major screw diameter, 40 threads per inch), which is the closest American equivalent I had to a metric 3.0x0.5. In metric screw measurements, an American 5-40 would be about 3.175x0.635. Once I cut that screw, I carefully threaded it into the 3.0x0.5 slot on the metric Screw Check'r to recut the threads to that size. The reason I was able to do that is that the screw I was making was brass, which is much softer than the steel of the threads on the Screw Check'r. For a metal any harder than brass, I can't imagine the technique would work especially well. It's not a perfect solution - the threads weren't perfect - but the screw worked and I needed to get it done ASAP, so there was no time to find or buy a metric die. This way I didn't have to alter the threads in spindle to force an American screw to work, and the screw I made worked perfectly well.

Lesson Learned - 5/24/12

Today I learned that, no matter how hard you try to keep your birthday quiet from your co-workers so that they won't feel obligated to make a fuss over you, someone will find out and blow your cover. On the upside, though, your fiance may stop by after that with delicious cupcakes and macaroni & cheese. If you don't have a fiance, though, it's probably best to just keep your birthday on the DL.

Lesson Learned - 5/21/12

If a flute crown rubs up against the wall of the head joint as it's screwed in - in other words the crown screw isn't centered - it can push the crown cork off to one side and cause it to leak. This can be remedied by partially screwing the crown onto the crown screw, then tapping it with a rawhide mallet until the proper alignment is achieved.

Lesson Learned - 5/18/12

My coworker is regularly able to do what I am unable to - to recognize that a job has gone wrong before it's even finished, to stop, and to start over. I am irrationally afraid of doing the same. I will follow a task through to completion, through blinding frustration, even though I know it is doomed. My problem soldering a sax post last week was just such a task. Instead of stopping when I realized solder wouldn't flow because of the lacquer around the joint, I forged ahead, blasting the post with heat and flux until I'd burned off enough lacquer to allow the solder to flow. It created a huge mess and took extra time to clean up, which I fully knew and expected as I was doing it, but I kept going anyway.
Maybe I'm afraid that starting over will force me to admit that I don't always know what I'm doing. Maybe it's because I constantly try to avoid sunk costs, even though they are by their very definition irretrievable and utterly meaningless. M spent at least an hour shaping a brass rod to braze into a broken sax neck strap ring, realized the fit wasn't that great before he started brazing, and then started over again with a fresh length of rod to create a better fitting piece. He spent at least another hour on that, but ended up with a great result. Why I'm so afraid of doing the same I don't know - maybe because the prospect of one major failure is somehow better to me than two minor failures followed by a third successful attempt. The possibility that my second attempt might be no more successful than the first is upsetting, but it's one that I need to face. I know that I'll only get better through trying things until I get them right. I need to do a better job of overcoming my tendency to put on blinders and press on, and become more self-evaluative.
I need to remember that a self-criticism of my work is not the same as self-loathing.

Lesson Learned 5/17/12

Today I realized that my normal process of removing dents from an overhauled or repadded instrument after doing all other work on it is foolish. Dent work should come immediately after cleaning. Normally I do things like realign posts and raise dents that will affect the function of the instrument immediately after cleaning, then do all the other work (installing pads/stropping slides/porting pistons), and only then do I do cosmetic dentwork. But dentwork is easier to do when the instrument is disassembled, so it makes no sense to do it after putting things together.


I should come up with a tagline for these posts.

Lesson Learned - 5/16/12

Today I left a flute in silver dip for well over an hour because I forgot about it and was working on something else while I was cleaning it. Silver dip is fairly harmless so it didn't do any permanent damage to the instrument, it just came out super shiny. It reminded me of a habit I've fallen out of, though, which is to always use a timer when soaking an instrument in any sort of solution. Had the flute been in a more potent cleaning bath, some damage could have been done to the plating for certain. We have a timer in the shop, but I've fallen out of the habit of using it. Henceforth I resolve to serve the almighty timer once again!

Lesson Learned - 5/15/12

I crapped up a head joint tenon on a flute today while removing dents on a head joint mandrel and learned a simple lesson - always place a tenon shrinker on a head joint before doing dent removal. Even with the shrinker on, extra care needs to be exercised when removing dents from the top of the head joint, where a lot of leverage is needed.

Lesson Learned - 5/14/12

While resoldering a post on a saxophone today, I encountered a problem I've had several times before, but one that I still fail to acknowledge at times. The flange on the bottom of the post was slightly larger than the footprint left by the old solder joint. In other words, when the post was originally soldered in place, the manufacturer didn't quite fill the joint with solder. Doing so leaves a nicer looking joint because there's no visible solder around the edges. Unfortunately, that also means that when the instrument is lacquered, that space on the body around the edge of the flange gets covered in lacquer. Since solder won't flow on or adhere to lacquer, that created a problem when I tried to resolder the post. Solder wouldn't flow into the joint even when I got it hot enough and applied an ample amount of flux, because the lacquer around the edges of the joint was creating a barrier. Eventually I burned off enough of the lacquer with heat, and the solder was able to flow, but it created a god-awful mess of burnt lacquer and solder in places where I didn't want it. I should have stopped when I realized the lacquer was causing a problem and dealt with that before attempting to solder, but I acted foolishly and hastily - two adverbs that seem to always travel together. I need to be more conscious of that problem in the future, and create a path for the solder by buffing away a small amount of lacquer at the feed point. As it was, my hasty method ended up costing me extra time because I had to go back to wipe away excess solder and buff all the burnt lacquer away.

Lesson Learned - 5/11/12

Further investigation is required, but I think today I learned that when shimming a flute pad, using a full shim that fits very snugly in the pad cup can cause the pad to distort once it's secured in place with the screw and washer. I've always been careful not to use full shims that are significantly smaller than the pad cup for fear that they would move around under the pad and change the way the pad protrudes from the pad cup. It never occurred to me that a snug shim could cause problems, too. I suspect that it's because the shim warps once the pad is against it and bubbles up in certain places, warping the pad.

Lesson Learned - 5/10/12

Today I finished working on a Theo Markardt english horn, a peculiar instrument that required a lot of attention and study. From what I've been able to learn, Mr. Markardt made pro-level oboes and english horns in Erlbach Germany. I believe he's deceased now. The mechanism on the instrument was unlike any I've ever seen. The standard system on an oboe or english horn is known as the Conservatory System, and Mr. Markardt clearly used that system as his template but made numerous modifications. For instance, there were open tone holes and finger rings where the A and D pads would be on a conservatory instrument, some of the trill mechanisms were different, and the instrument had an automatic octave mechanism, which is fairly uncommon for double reed instruments. The fingerings were no different from a normal english horn except for a few trill fingerings, but the ways in which the keys interacted with each other were unique. Because of that I spent a lot of time just looking over the instrument, turning regulation screws, to get an understanding of how everything was supposed to work. Below I've included pictures of two of the mechanisms, along with my understanding of their functions and how to adjust them.


Automatic Octave Mechanism
Most double reed instruments have independent 1st and 2nd octave keys that the player operates manually. On this instrument, there was no way to manually open the 2nd octave key. It was connected to the 1st octave key and when the octave key was pressed, one or the other would open depending on which keys in the left hand were closed. This is exactly how the octave mechanism on a saxophone works. The design was unlike that commonly found on a saxophone, though. I've included the function of each adjustment screw and the order in which I found it best to set them.

F Resonance Key Mechanism
It seems like every brand of oboe or english horn has its own variation on this mechanism, so it usually requires a few minutes of study. This one had its own nuances, so its worth recording.

Because the adjustment of #1 can be affected slightly by #5, it could be necessary to go through this order more than once, making finer adjustments each time. Despite that, this is the best solution I could come up with.


This instrument taught me a lot, and since it's likely I won't see another one for a long time, these illustrations will help me be a lot more prepared with information that I wouldn't otherwise remember.

Lesson Learned - 5/9/12

I spent most of today working on Gemeinhardt open hole flute. A fine intermediate instrument, but not the best, so it's to be expected that the tone holes would not be perfectly level. I find that having flat tone holes really makes padding an open hole flute much easier, so I usually level all the tone holes when I'm doing a repad, as was the case yesterday.


I was using a piece of plexiglass over the top of the tone hole and tapping with it on a hammer to lower the high spots, a tip I picked up from another tech on the Delphi band instrument repair forum. In doing so, I found that I need to be extra cautious if I'm tapping on the back of the tone hole, especially if there is a rib right next to it. If I tap too hard, creating a low spot in the back of the tone hole rim, it's extremely difficult to raise that back up to level because of the thickness and strength of the rib that prevents the metal from moving.

Lesson Learned - 5/8/12

Today I learned, courtesy of my coworker M, that reducing the venting of all the stack keys on a saxophone can help mitigate inconsistencies in the instrument's intonation. He was working on an old Martin alto and found that by closing the stack keys down lower than normal, he corrected a lot of the pitch issues in the middle register. The keys were so low that I would have never thought to experiment with an opening that small because it's so far outside the norm. But that saxophone reminded me yet again that I need to always be open to long-shot techniques when the tried-and-true aren't working.


I also learned that if you're going to plug a piece of tubing with silly putty to check for leaks, you shouldn't draw a strong vacuum on that piece of tubing because you'll suck a huge gob of silly putty up into the tube like a bubble in reverse. As a result of that little lesson, though, I learned that PB Blaster is really effective at un-sticking silly putty from brass tubing.


Seems like the first lesson was a bit more...nuanced.

Fighting "Blog Neglect"

This blog has lain dormant for awhile, partly because of a lack of motivation on my part. Based on just about every other blog on the internet, that seems like a common problem which I've named "Blog Neglect" (trademark pending). Part of my hiatus, though, has also been because I've put the project on temporary hold. At least I hope it's temporary
When I started working on the instrument, I had found it in the shop, talked to my coworker about it, and mistakenly believed that the owner had no more interest in keeping or paying to restore the instrument. I assumed it would an easy matter to contact her about purchasing it, so easy in fact that I wouldn't even need to talk to her before starting work. That's how certain I was that she'd want to get rid of the instrument. As it turns out I contacted her a few weeks ago and she wasn't as certain as I'd been about her willingness to sell. That's her prerogative of course, so while she's been mulling over whether to sell to me, I've agreed to stop my work. She knows about the work I've already done and is fine with it, and may even pay me to finish if she decides to keep the instrument for herself. We'll see - I've learned that it's best not to expect any specific outcome.
In any case I'd hate for this blog to go to waste, and for a while now I've wanted a way to keep track of the things I learn each day at work that I can apply to future repairs and to life in general. My plan from now on is to post every weekday with some lesson that I've picked up that day and ultimately end up with a wealth of information that I and others can refer back to. When my work on the english horn hopefully resumes, I'll continue to write about that along with the daily lessons, but in the meantime at least the people who stumble across this blog won't assume that it's abandoned and start smashing up the windows and doing meth in the bedrooms and squatting on the property. That's what happens to abandoned blogs, right?