maestro @cillianbristow-blog - Tumblr Blog

where do you hope to be in 10 years

Back across the pond, ideally. I miss my dreary weather. In general, I want to be doing what I’m doing, but better, universal acclaim, all that.

#[answered]#Anonymous

what's something you regret saying?

I suppose I could have been more diplomatic about telling certain people to fuck off. But then again, they fucked off, so all’s well that ends well.

#[answered]#sunnydefazzio

describe your worst nightmare

Neurodegenerative disease. There is a… history of it in the family. If I went the same way, I would lose music. Which is to say I’d lose everything.

#[answered]#Anonymous #chronic illness tw

#soundhh

lcvebroken‌:

* ⟩ “ YOU’RE SPENDING YOUR FAUX SICK DAY COOPED UP IN A LIBRARY ? —— after all these years —— i’ve rubbed off on you more than you’d care to admit, it seems. ” the words fall from ernest’s lips with a poorly concealed favour & glimmers of mirth & cheek, the male regarding the latter with no mere modicum of familiarity. “ LOOK, how about this. i’ll listen in, but not here —— we should head to the park, don’t you think ? it’s such a deeply lovely day outside & it’d be such a waste not to steep in it. ”

Cillian chuckled, despite annoyance that Ernest was already unravelling his best laid plans -- as the younger man tended to do. “God forbid,” he shot back, feigning horror. “May I never retain an ounce of your blandness, it’d cripple my air of suave sophistication.” He waved a hand around the nearly empty room. “You’re missing the true charm of this place. Barely any people. And if they’re present, they’re not talking. It’s lovely. The park... has crowds. And noise. And sunshine.”

#[ernest]#//same!!!

mcrtys‌:

as strange as the task may be, marty is still happy to help. when the other’s phone is slid in her direction she plucks one of the headphones up and sticks it in her ear, leaving the other out so she can multi-task and listen to him speak while she listens to the music at the same time. “i’m just not musically inclined,” she defends, nodding her head along with what’s playing on the other end of the phone. “plus i can’t play piano anyway. look at these grubby little hobbit hands.” with a little huff she’s lifting her hands to show off stubby fingers, wiggling them around to add emphasis to her point.

Cillian shrugs a shoulder. “Alright, fair enough, not everyone can be. But if you ever want to learn another song, you might as well not be rubbish at it.” He blinks at her wriggling fingers, and coughs out a laugh at her description. “You could still play,” he says. “With... some trivial limitations. Fairly well-known pianists have had similarly, uh, hobbit-like hands. Worst case, get yourself hobbit-sized keys.”

#[marty]

caciaxlaurent‌:

Acacia rolled her eyes. “Boundless optimism or ‘I’m the best syndrome’, you can never really be too sure.” She was definitely not going to admit she’d been that girl with her fashion drawings at one point in her life. She let out a dry laugh at his irritation, she knew when to stop pushing though. She set the paper down gracefully. “How exciting. Is it any good? If it is, you’ll have to play it for me sometime.”

A small grin. “Yeah, well, it’s my job to provide a reality check,” he said. He remembered being on the other side of auditions -- young, brilliant, and arrogant. He rose faster than most musicians his age, and yet, every rejection still felt like a slap to the face. “Good for growth,” he said, wryly. “Being told in no uncertain terms that you’re not good enough. Ensures you’ll be better, next time. I’m doing them all a favour, really.” Cillian stared down at his work, melodies rising off the page, and laughed. "Oh, I hate everything I write. Will never see the light of day.”

#[acacia]

sms — open.

grayson: yes, i still have all of my organs.

grayson: and everything else i need to survive.

Cillian: Oh good, so organ harvesting is not on your list of troubles today. Anything stopping you from just... walking out?

#[grayson]

◜sms◞ — open.

olivia: well today is your lucky day.

olivia: chinese takeout.

olivia: concert hall? i mean, yeah i can.. you'd just have to talk me through how to get there.

cillian: Apparently so!

cillian: It's the Meyerhoff on Cathedral Street. I have no sense of direction so can't actually provide useful guidance, but do you know where that is?

#[olivia]

allie-brunton

Visit Original Link

Mishima/Closing | Philip Glass

beautiful.

#[music]

mcrtys‌:

marty nods her head slowly, finally understanding what he wants from her. it makes sense. sometimes a person just doesn’t feel like working and even though she’s fully convinced that she isn’t qualified to lend a hand, she’s going to go ahead and do it anyway. “okay, i think i can do that!” she says with an enthusiastic nod, holding her hand out slowly so she could listen for herself. “oh, i played it more than once! i just only learned one song. and i wasn’t very good at it. anyway—thanks, i think?”

“Right on,” Cillian says cheerfully, in his best American accent, which isn’t very good. He passes over the headphones and pushes the phone towards her, out of his way. As she chatters on, he tosses her a sideways glance. “Well, you’re not supposed to give up while you’re still awful. Perseverance, young padawan. Skill tends to only come with practice. Can’t all be musical geniuses like myself.” He laughs. “Sure, take it as a good thing. I’d suggest starting with piano, it’ll teach you more than a few chords.”

#[marty]

lazharis‌:

sami glanced over to realise that the male may be indeed USING her to do his job for him. a brief frown flitted over her features, before she lowered the earphones again. “why not change jobs then?” she said, simply. if it were that tiresome and repetitive, why not find something that he’d actually LIKE more? “sounds like these people are trying very hard by giving you their time and effort.” she felt the need to point out, softly. if it was part of his job, wouldn’t it be slightly more courteous, and just NICE to give them the same thing right back?

Cillian tilted his head. He spent a lot of his time complaining, and being generally disagreeable, but few ever called him out on it. He couldn’t even be indignant because her tone wasn’t harsh. Ugh. Nice people. “I do enjoy other aspects of my profession,” he said after a moment. “Won’t quit just because I dislike a few parts of the process. I do it because I’m good at it - better than most. I just dislike... boredom.” He snorted lightly. “As for the musicians, they knew what they were getting into. That’s how this world works. There are so many hopefuls, and so few spots. You need to be the best. If you’re not, you’ve got to become so, or you’re wasting your time and everyone else’s, including mine. You earn attention, you don’t get a gold star for showing up and trying.”

#[sami]

ftspcncer‌:

spencer had been set up in the library for the greater part of the day, working on assignments she should’ve started ages ago and with every passing moment she questioned why she always did this to herself. she had taken a break for a moment, and as she was making her way back to her table, she was happy to make conversation with someone else for what seemed like the first time in ages to her. “ oh, me?” she asked, a bit confused at the proposal at first, but she took the headphones offered out to her nonetheless, “ i mean, are you sure? i don’t really know anything about this, i don’t wanna mess anything up, but i can try my best? ” she replied with a smile.

Her earnest response was almost charming, but Cillian merely scoffed and shook his head. “You can’t mess this up, don’t worry. A single inspiring musician in the lot is bound to shock you out of your chair. Those are the ones we want.” He was silent for a moment, frowning at his papers, then it occurred to him to offer a bit more guidance than that. “The music should sound fluid, polished, free of hesitation. I don’t want to hear a person thinking louder than they’re playing; that means they’re probably young and inexperienced, and they don’t belong at this level, not yet. I also need cohesion, not an orchestra full of soloists. It’s a fine balance. If they’re boring and robotic, I don’t want them. But if they’re all about obnoxious flourishes that distract from the music, they can fuck off and stroke their ego as a busker for all I care, I don’t want them. Beyond that, it’s mostly preference, so yeah, your ‘best’ is probably fine.” He said most of this on a single breath, then glanced sideways. “About sums it up. Any questions?”

#[spencer]

ftscvrlctt‌:

it’s a rare occurrence to find scarlett setting foot inside a library but today she’s struck with an overpowering urge to read. what though, she is unsure of yet any form of decision making process is put on hold. “listen in?” she queries as she walks over to him, pulling her coat further around her growing figure. “well, you’ve asked the right person. if you want brutal honesty, you’ll get it. are you good at keeping conversation or am i going to have to ask you to find me a book to read while i do this?” the dj teases as she takes the headphones.

Cillian couldn’t help but laugh. He appreciated someone with as little tact as himself... especially if she was willing to do his work for him. “Obliged,” he said, pushing his papers over to make room at the table. “I do need to retain some select musicians rather than just roasting all of them, but there are about two dozen auditionees for each seat in the orchestra. So. You don’t need to worry about crushing the hopes and dreams of a few.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll need a book. Got a preference?”

#[scarlett]

matt-hagen

# dramatic af

#[vanity]#//cillian giving his orchestra constructive criticism :p

sms — open.

grayson: i fuckin' woke up in someone's bathtub.

grayson: a BATHTUB !!!

grayson: i don't even know who's house this is.

grayson: i've not left the bathroom since i woke up.

grayson: what do i do?

Cillian: Do you still have your kidneys

#[grayson]

caciaxlaurent‌:

Acacia raised an eyebrow, turning her head over he shoulder just to see if he was actually talking to her. “Me?” She half laughed. Clearly this poor sap had no idea who she was. “I’d take you up on that but I’m practically tone deaf and still think the 1990s was the best era of music.” She smiled. “Besides, what could be so important?” She walked over, taking on the sheets of music in her hand. She turned it around, pretending like she was reading it.

Cillian shrugged a shoulder. “You and half the people auditioning today, it seems. Everyone fresh out of college thinks they can be first chair.” He made an indignant noise as she snatched his papers away, more irritated than embarrassed by someone inspecting his work. “I’m writing. Well, arranging. Have a melody in my head, scribbled it out last night. Now writing the full score.”

#[acacia]

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