I'm Heather, and I have a lot of double basses.

"Baroque" for Bach & Handel
Viennese for Haydn & Mozart
violoni in G and D for 17th-century continuo
“modern" bass for almost everything else
... plus a few extras for my students to play

Oh, yes. I DO need them all!

I’m the principal bassist with the Handel and Haydn Society in Boston. But I live outside of Philadelphia, where I direct the early music ensemble at Temple University, maintain a select private studio, and perform as part of a vibrant early music community. I don't even mind driving a minivan!

How did all of this happen?

My work as a performer, teacher, and artistic director has taken me in directions I never could have imagined when I graduated from the Curtis Institute in the late 1990s. I'd recently finished my degree program and was freelancing around Philly. My heart was set on a full-time orchestra job, and I'd even advanced in a few auditions. But playing the same excerpts the same way, day in and day out, was starting to get to me.

One day, I inadvertently wheeled my steel strings into a rehearsal where literally everyone else was a period instrument specialist. For some reason I'd never gotten that memo—but it was absolutely my lucky day, because they let me stay and play some Beethoven.

Five minutes in and I was hooked. How did they make the music groove like that? I had to know. And the gut strings sounded absolutely glorious.

So I set out to learn everything I could about historical bass playing. I spent what little savings I had on summer festivals, lessons, strings, concert tickets, and books. Eventually, that journey led me to pursue a DMA in historical performance practice at Cornell University.

The best part of the process was learning on the job with experienced players, whenever I could get the chance. The worst part was feeling like I didn’t know what I was doing for a good long time. I had just spent four years in conservatory and a couple more playing professionally. It did NOT feel amazing when I sounded squeaky and clunky in my practice room, and I was mortified when it happened in public. But I pushed through, and I’m glad I did.

What I discovered is that historical performance is not elusive or reserved for specialists. It is a way of listening, thinking, and making musical decisions that can enrich the playing of any thoughtful bassist.

Whether your interests lie in orchestral playing, chamber music, or teaching, an understanding of historical style can deepen your relationship with the repertoire and expand your artistic possibilities.

Historical performance practice changed the way I hear, think about, and perform all music.

Every bassist has a differnt path.

Some pursue period instruments and professional work in early music; others bring historical ideas into their playing on modern bass. What matters is not equipment, but the curiosity to explore and question how we understand music, old or new.