Your Memory is an Unreliable Narrator

A few weeks of sub-par English Horn reeds and a general feeling of exhaustion towards the instrument (and specifically my instrument) culminated in a spontaneous gouger maintenance appointment at my reed desk today.

Not pictured: the before,

At a clean desk, I pulled the gouger over, and took stock of how bad it was starting to look: cane dust absolutely everywhere, water marks on the machine, a dull blade that I was tired of convincing myself was sharp enough to use. I unscrewed the blade hex screw and was aghast at the state of the thing. Only myself to blame. Life gets busy=reed desk becomes the worst version of an 'I Spy' book=tools don't get treated correctly.

The whole situation forced me to recollect when I had last serviced the machine. I hadn't kept track of the number of pieces gouged on this blade, nor had I been keeping it in the hard case I bespoke for it. Figuratively connecting red string in my head (and confirming through emails) I remembered that I purchased the new blade from Phil Ross last winter, so that's when I must've felt that there was an imminent inevitability that my setup was on the decline. How horrible to have to pluck clues from the ether, if only there was a better way. Wait, there is!

A simple log placed in your gouger carrying case will help bring you back to reality, Dates, functions performed, and anything else pertinent to you is all that needs to be included.

It doesn't have to be fastidious, but a simple log will really help for future maintenance. My memory serves me well for so many things, but the myriad of oboe and reed related information that seems to be integral in continuous high performance execution transforms my brain into a sieve.

The first reed on the improved setup grounded me to reality, instead of sending me searching for a new horn. Sighs of relief!