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Hans-Peter wrote: "Actually Robert Dick in his book on extended technique recommends you hum in tune with the note you are playing to improve the tone quality ..."
Ronit wrote:
And Hans-Peter replied: To clear up any confusion that might linger, humming while playing is or isn't the thing to do, depending on the musical situation. As a method for tone development, practice humming along with the flute to develop throat tuning, which is the "silent singing" done when we're playing. When playing classical music, we don't want throat sounds, as Hans-Peter says. He's also accurate when he says that a "tuned" throat will give a much better tone than an out of tune one. The only way to learn this and to constantly improve it is to sing when playing. The accuracy of the intonation is the key (the better the intonation, the more positive the effect), while the octave sung in should be one in which the voice is comforable and relaxed while singing softly. Taking some voice lessons is also very highly recommended. The open throat concept for flute playing was a huge improvement over the tight throat style heard much earlier this century. And the tuned throat is the evolutionalry successor to the open throat. It will, for example, make the low register much more secure than simply opening the throat as much as possible. Singing along with playing is also done for musical purposes. For example, play a low C natural and sing in unison with it. (Be sure you're in the right octave; its higher than it might seem.) With the voice and flute in unison, keep singing softly, and, without increasing the loudness of the voice, purse the lips forward to push the flute through the overtones of low C. When done well, a kind of human "wah-wah" pedal effect is produced. This will work on all of the notes that you can sing in unison with the flute. A variation on the "wah-wah" tone is to sing an octave below the flute. Just remember to sing softly and use the lips to move the flute through the overtone series. Its rainbow time! Another striking sound is to play a third octave note and make a vocal glissando from as high as you can sing softly and easily to as low as easily possible, holding the high note all the while. You'll hear glissandi that go up, in contrary motion to the voice! They are difference tones, created by the changing relationship between the voive and flute. As the voice glisses downwards, the difference in frequency between the flute and voice increases, thus the difference tone goes... up. Practicing singing and playing with the voice in intervalic relationships to the flute other than unison or in octaves is an incredible ear-strengthener. Practicing singing and playing in perfect fifths (or twelfths) can put you in some fascinating musical spaces -- including Gregorian Chant and heavy metal Power Chords.
Robert Dick
 Its really true that we don't sound the same to ourselves as we do to our listeners, and figuring out what sound we should hear so that the audience hears the sound we would like them to hear is a complex perceptual journey. In one sense, recording and listening over and again is the best answer because it does give us the best sonic picture. I've learned to trust even cheap recorders. There's always enough truth in the playback to learn from. A frustration I sometimes felt when working in the record, listen, record, listen, etc mode was that the playing and listening from outside myself happened at different times. It wasn't possible to experiment on the fly. So I came up with a simple system for listening to yourself from a distance while playing. You'll need a pair of headphones that cover the ears and do a good job of isolating your hearing. Lightweight, "open" headphones are wrong for this purpose. Heavier, more massive phones with generous padding to surround the ears will work much better. (I can't recommend a brand because my stuff is old and I'm not up on current equipment.) Also needed is a micropone on a stand with a long chord and a Walkman type tape recorder or, better, a DAT machine. The idea is to put the microphone as far away from yourself as possible and to listen to yourself through the headphones while you play. You can roll tape or not, depending on your choice at the moment. On first hearings of ourselves, we often think that there's a problem with the recording because it sounds so different than how we hear ourselves. I didn't recognize my own voice the first time I heard it on tape, and my flute playing sounded mighty strange too. The tape somehow "lost" levels of tone color, dynamics, articulation and expression. It was a rude shock to realize that the tape was telling the truth - those levels that I heard were not being communicated to the audience. Why? The flute is very close to the ears, its heard by the player with strong high frequencies in the sound, giving it a detailed sonic prescence. Unfortunately, these very high frequencies don't travel very far, so many of them don't project far enough to reach the entire audience unless we learn to play with an even stronger high frequency component in the sound. Right up close, this can sound a bit harsh, but it will deliver a colorful, alive tone to the listeners. I think that the reason recordings seem to "swallow" articulations is that we hear the articulations through our skulls -- bone conduction of sound is really important -- along with hearing through the eardrum. Also, we feel the articulation as its made, reinforcing our perception of it. Ultimately, perhaps the most significant part of learning to understand how we actually sound, as different from how we sound to ourselves, is sorting out what we actually do from what we intend to do. After all, we're not just hearing the instrument, we're hearing the music in our minds and feeling it. All those energies can blend together to create some powerful illusions. By getting used to hearing with the microphone 10, 20, 50 or more feet away, the first lesson is that it takes a LOT more energy to play than one might think. Imagine a Galway performance. What's the first impression, given even before the first note? Energy! Through practice with remote microphones and also lots of recording and listening, I learned how to hear myself. Its not hard, just daunting at first. Before recordings, musicians had to learn about these differences in perception by trial and error, with results judged by audience reaction. Not a bad method, either. But since there are less live music opportunities, the recorder has gained importance in the feedback loop. Another excellent "truth" enviornment is to play outdoors. When your music sounds good in an open field, it will project well in virtually any hall. It is a fundamental aspect of the classical music culture to tend to focus on possible problems without weighing overall benefit/problem proportions. I know the method I've described isn't perfect, but its very good. And I know that the best equipment is better than cheaper stuff. But using whatever equipment there is at hand is so much better than not using it and waiting for an ideal situation. As students, my friends and I learned incredible things by using what we had or could borrow; cheapo microphones, yard-sale headphones and other junk-tronics.
Robert Dick
There are a lot of stimulating concepts worthy of real reflection here, but in terms of addressing the original question of why European flutists have criticised American flutists in stylistic terms, I think many of us are barking up the wrong tree. I'm basing my response on the experience of co-teaching some twelve weeks of masterclasses with Trevor Wye, Geoffrey Gilbert and William Bennett. In those many weeks, I attended their classes and thoroughly checked out their very varied perspectives. I've also had the opportunity to observe many of the major teachers in France, Germany, England, Italy, etc. The big criticism of American flutists, from the European viewpoint, stems from the fact that American flute playing, certainly American flute teaching, is primarily rooted in the orchestra. Primary values tend to be precision, faithful and literal performance of the notation and a suppression of personality, a "cool" approach. Thankfully, many teachers in the U.S. no longer follow this philosophy, but, conscious or not, it is true that this tradition has permeated American teaching to its core. And while this school has produced marvelous orchestral players, the result in recital and concerto literature frequently is -- blandness. Our Euro friends aren't on our case, in this case, because of some accented or unaccented appogiatura. They're not saying "we don't like your style". They are saying "you haven't got a style -- you're playing the notes but not the music". It should be noted that, while they often are on the mark, their opinions can be skewered by the Olympic-sized loads of chauvinism that some carry on their shoulders. All such expressions generalizing Americans, Europeans, Orientals, etc must have their source very carefully examined. How seriously can one take the opinion, for example, of a famous European flute teacher who plays Kuhlau, Popp and similiar lightweight repertoire beautifully but doesn't seem to have the ability to feel or express deeply in great music like Bach and refuses to play or teach music from the second half of this century? Since I've taught in most of the major European music schools, I know for a fact that the students aren't all that much more or that much less musical than American students. For example, while Trevor Wye has railed at Americans as being "so damned unmusical" -- (said at his class at Wildacres in my presence in the 1980's) -- and Trevor's own students at the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester did indeed play very musically, something important got ignored. And that is that the bulk of English and other European students are not so well taught and don't play with any more stylistic knowledge or zest than the bulk of American students. (And one is far more likely to find English music college students playing on closed-hole, C-foot flutes, crippling their ability to exploit the full range of the flute's beauty -- simply absurd in this day and age.) So where does this leave us? Barking up the tree of our choice I suppose. It seems reasonable to say that, while Americans frequently need to learn the difference between the orchestral and soloistic approach -- so does everyone else!
Woofingly yours,
In the discussions about stylistic performance, the question of composers as interpreters of their own music has come up, and there seem to be some misunderstandings. When we talk about composers interpreting their music, we are talking about the composer as performer, are we not? So while its true that Stravinsky wasn't the greatest conductor nor Ravel a legendary pianist, the comments on Ferneyhough and Wuorinen are just wrong. When a flutist explained to Ferneyhough "my way of thinking through his hemidemisemiquaver mutilations..." she shouldn't have been surprised if he was offended and felt that she understood nothing in his music. SHE was the interpreter of the music, not he. Same goes for the mention of Charles Wuorinen. Not famous for diplomacy, Wuorinen must have said exactly what he thought about someone's performance of one of his pieces. Once again, THEY were the interpreter, not he. The composer was expressing his opinion of the interpretation he had just heard. For a performer to think that she or he understands a composers music better than than the composer her/himself is arrogant. And when this happens (I'm speaking from experience), the overwhelming probability is that a stupid interpretation has just been heard. I have no idea of Brian Ferneyhough's abilities as a performer, but I have heard Charles Wuorinen play his own piano works and he is truly a great interpreter. When I was a member of the Creative Associates new music group in Buffalo in the late 70's, Wuorinen and the violinist Ben Hudson came to play a recital of Wuorinen's music. It was one of the most beautiful and moving musical experiences I've ever had. Afterwards, I went to tell Charles how much I was moved. His reaction? "You have to play this music with the longest, most Romantic sense of line possible. Otherwise it comes out as a bunch of God-damned niblets that don't mean anything."
Robert Dick
Interpreters Interpreting Composers Interpreting Interpreters Steve Owens writes: "I guess the questions are these: 1) When does the composer know better than the performer? 2) When does the performer know better than the composer? These questions were not such a big deal at, say, Esterhazy, when Haydn was right there interacting with the performers, or when performance practice was passed by tradition from teacher to student. In the late 20th century, the score carries the load - there often is no tradtion or dynamic interaction to help out. And with this unique historical situation comes some problems with which we all need to work together to sort out." Dear Steve, Amen. First, I doubt that only some dynamics and other details were the problems Ferneyhough (whose music I don't dig) and Wuorinen (whose music I do) had with the interpretations they heard. Surely they bristled because of a larger -- or total -- sense that that their pieces were not understood by the players. Both these guys are well aware of how difficult their music is, and they aren't fetishistic about surface perfection; they're deeply concerned with interpreters illuminating the compositions from within. As for things like the Stravinsky dynamics you mention, they're certainly judgement calls to be made at the moment, and if your slight increase over the written dynamics makes the music more musical, then Igor would no doubt have approved. In the years I played in the Brooklyn Philharmonic, this type of choice had to be made constantly. We often treated dynamics to mean that the marked dynamics were what the audience heard, not as literal instructions. "When does the composer know better than the performer?" This might be re-phrased as "WHAT does the composer know better than the performer?" And that is the composer, if he/she is any good, knows the inner purpose and inspiration of the piece, understands its emotional and intellectual goals and directions and understands the kinds of energies, phrasings and connections that are desired. Players often miss these points, particularly in understanding the connections. "When does the player know better than the composer?" This happens mostly on instrumental levels. Composers do make mistakes such as marking impractical dynamincs or unworkable tempi. Certainly the tempo marking of Berio's "Sequenza", for an example, gets Berio a "composers error" card. We interpreters are then entitled to a free (short) penalty tantrum as we then have to figure out what to do. (I slow the piece down and go for the dynamics, articulations and expressive phrasings rather than try to play it at the written tempo, which Berio clearly arrived at by composing at the keyboard.) Certainly the rarest experience for composers and for interpreters is when the magic fusion of visions that is supposed to happen actually takes place. When a composer gets to hear the music played with real insight and stylistic understanding flowing through a personal viewpoint that adds to the work, then thats musical Nirvana. Take me there, folks. Please.
Robert Dick
The question of whether or not the flute is an appropriate jazz instrument has a lot of facets to it -- musical, societal and music business. While I'm not a jazz musician in the commonly understood sense of someone steeped in the Bebop tradition, most of the music I perform is improvised and is strongly influenced by the Blues, among other things. And almost all of the musicians I work with come from the jazz tradition. On a routine basis I encounter preconceptions and prejudices against the flute when dealing with listeners, promoters and critics. Its a pity that Eric Dolphy, the greatest jazz voice of the flute to date, is not alive to still be playing his music and to voice his philosophy on this question. Let it be said that the heart and soul of jazz is personal, creative expression. Good jazz players are constantly looking deeper into the music and themselves to develop and deepen their own approach. Since a vital aspect of personal expression is the choice of instrument or instruments, the sonic "voice" that we identify ourselves with must be true. So if your musical voice (or one of your musical voices) is a flute -- then it is perfectly appropriate for jazz. It would be inappropriate, though, to carry the baggage of classical musicianship and classical flute technique on this wonderful trip without having a good look at what to bring along -- and what to leave behind. Unexamined preconceptions about the learning process, about rhythm (particularly the nature of the beat itself), phrasing, tone, articulation, vibrato and intonation can lead to a very clumsy feel. So here is a quick look at these issues, more of a glance really, or maybe a wink. There is much more to say and do about them all. If you hear the call of jazz, then you should be sure to follow up on the excellent suggestions other list members have posted, especially the recommendations for listening. There's an amazing wealth of experience in our group. A) The learning process Learning by ear, by sound is the key. Classical players are used to reading and to learn by reading. Make it a habit not to use music whenever possible. A point that has been discussed before but is worth raising again is that there is no reason to practice warmups while reading them out of pattern books; they are easy to analyze and memorize and this is a useful early step in developing one's ability to pre-hear what one is going to play. The well made jazz books, like Jerry Coker's and Yusef Lateef's among many others (I'm working through Lateef's "Method on How to Improvise Soul Music" right now) give ideas and materials and then send you off the page to do your practicing. Playing along with tapes, recordings, sequencer programs, whatever, is a must. And jamming with friends is a must, too. When we learn a classical piece, we are supposed to learn all of it, to know what's going on harmonically, to know the bass line, etc. But the fact of the matter is that often we don't know these things as well as we should and still can make a musical sounding (although not ultimate) performance. In a jazz tune, if we don't know what's going on in all of its aspects, it just won't work. B) Rhythm Classical musicians, particularly those trained in the orchestral tradition, learn a certain feel of the beat. I'm oversimplifying, but the classical beat can usually be described as a "downbeat" feel. Jazz operates on an "upbeat" feel much more often than not. While orchestral musicians never want to make an entrance ahead of the group (the famous "pioneer prize" Murray Panitz of the Philadelphia Orchestra would laugh about), in jazz its important to know how it feels to be at the leading edge of time. Its not that hard to learn. To start, put your pattern books away and set your metronome on the backbeat (the "and" of each beat: one-and; two-and; etc) while you play your scales. And please don't forget to put the metronome on the backbeat when you practice Bach -- his music will spring to life! C) Phrasing The original instrument is the voice, and phrasing ought to be learned by singing. While the flute is a great instrument for jazz lines, it does help to play the bass line and/or chords on a keyboard or guitar while singing. Just as in learning a classical piece, stay in rhythm! Tempo is the variable -- go as slowly as needed, but keep a clear beat and rhythm. (The Cosmos has provided bathrooms and tiny electric keyboards for the vocally shy. Enter. Lock door. Sing.) D) Tone, articulation, vibrato and intonation This is where the flutist faces the big "instrumental" challenges. Turning back to the voice: listen to a beautifully played or sung jazz phrase on the recording of your choice. Listen closely many times. Then sing the phrase over and over, emulating the expressiveness of the original. There will be lots of non-classical action in the phrase, such as glissandi, notes that "scoop" up to pitch or dive away from pitch, notes that may have fuzzy starts, notes that begin without vibrato or have a lot of change in the nature of vibrato, notes that are near to written values but are not played in a way that could be neatly written out. When you can sing the phase with some freedom and ease, take your flute and try to play what you sang. You can even keep on singing the phrase while you play, then just play without singing. As quick as that, you'll have two dramatically different coloristic versions of the phrase. (Three, really, if you count the sung verson without the flute.) I'm afraid I'm going to upset some folks with the following, but it is something I truly feel and have thought about for a long time: An unfortunate aspect of the bop jazz flute tradition, the music most commonly played under the name jazz, is that it was created by saxophonists doubling on flute. While its clear that the classical flute sound doesn't usually feel right for jazz, let me be out front and say that the traditional "jazz flute" tone gives me the creeps. While these cats were fantastic on sax, the flute playing was mostly second rate and usually less expressive than their sax playing. So while its good to listen to everything, downplaying how sax players doubled on flute and concentrating on how they phrased on the sax makes more sense. That said, starting by listening to singers like Billie Holiday would make a lot of sense for a flutist. Jazz and rock and all manner of improvised styles call for freedom and flexibility in our flute technique. Practice bending notes, warping them below pitch as far as possible by rolling the flute in, then up to pitch and past it by rolling out. Glissandi are an essential ingredient too, and this is where an openhole flute is indispensable. (Preferably with an offset G -- it makes a huge difference in how well you can play even if you have big hands!) Then there is the world of coloristic fingerings. Best not to think of "regular" and "alternate" with "regular" being the one to play whenever possible. When playing outside of classical music, classical rules don't automatically apply. If they did, classical flutists would sound great when playing jazz... Far better to think in terms of vocalisms, developing personal approaches to vibrato and sound color. Mixing multiphonics into improvisations can be both a powerful harmonic and coloristic move. Playing the flute in octaves is a great way to intensify the sound and to get past the lightweight "fluty" thing that so many jazz fans hate. A creative musical approach embraces a creative instrumental approach. Flutes can make all manner of vocal-like inflections that will make jazz, rock and blues very natural sounding. A new jazz "sound", many jazz "sounds" actually, that are neither the traditional saxophonists flute sound or transplanted classical sound is the goal -- and it is totally attainable. E) Prejudice Speaking of hate, the flute is often hated in the world of jazz andsometimes promoters simply cannot even be made to listen to a demo tape or CD. All too often, the "jazz flute" sound and/or the lightweight music of pop jazz flutists has done its work of turning ears away from the wonderful sound jazz flute can be. Its a huge pain for those of us trying to make a living in this field. And its a battle that needs to be fought on all fronts. For the high school and college students who want to play in jazz bands, insist! Make a pain of yourselves. Get the director to think about getting some charts that use flute. And offer your help, too. Somebody has to sit and transpose parts -- if you want to play 'em, then volunteer to copy 'em. Make it hard to say "no" to you. If necessary, show up at rehearsals with a small clip-on mic (Radio Shack has got a really cheap one that sounds surprisingly good) and a mini amplifier to solve the loudness problem. Isn't school for learning? So what if a flutist's early attempts at playing in a jazz band aren't stellar. There is a legendary story of the young Charlie Parker being told to leave the bandstand because he wasn't together. He became one of the greatest musicians in history. Would this have happened if he hadn't had a chance at early mistakes? How does anyone get anywhere without learning how, which in music means some flops and "almosts"? Another dimension to the anti-flute prejudice is the press. Here we find preconceptions hardened like a concrete bunker. Even good reviews usually have to start with a put-down of the flute's jazz history. So while its always great to get a strong reviews for one's CDs, I hope one day that positive reviews won't typically begin with something along these lines: "While this reviewer normally finds the flute annoying, this CD is different..." F) Shameless plug In the discussion of jazz flutists recently, I was a bit surprised nobody thought of me. So let me urge the jazz, rock and creative music fans, and everyone else too, to check out "Jazz Standards on Mars" (ENJA 9327, distributed by Koch International) and "Third Stone from the Sun" (New World 80435-2). These CDs, along with "Worlds of IF" (Leo 224) are the ones that got all those great reviews that began with "normally the flute......... but in this case..............." On these recordings, I've used the new sonic languages of the flute in jazz and rock contexts. The influence of electric guitar blues, especially Jimi Hendrix, is very strong. Developing one's personal sound so as to be able to play "Machine Gun" (by Hendrix) or "India" (by John coltrane) is a long term project to be sure. And a joyous one. There's no reason to accept the limitations others would prescribe for the flute. All we've got to do is feel and hear the music inside, and get to work. G) Bye for now. Hope this was helpful and not overbearing.
Robert Dick
Better than the living composer-performer? - don't wait until we die (or you do) Hello to All, A few days ago, Muchan raised his question about performing music composed by living composer-performers. Here's what he said: "Just a question, intending as a "humor"... When advanced flute players get Robert Dick's books of advanced techniques, having mastered some of them and perform his composition, are they expressing themselves? or they are expressing Robert Dick? The question is similar as to ask what pianists felt, when they played Chopin or Listz's work in front of them, while they were still alive as the best performer of their time. Since the separation of role of composer and performer's roles, performers of classical music is suppose to express composer's musical intention, not of performers themselves. Now performing-composers like Gary Shocker or Robert Dick alive, performing-only players can never express Robert Dick better than Robert Dick himself, can they?" What this question says to me and to other composers and composer-performers, I'll bet, is that there is indefinition on the part of many players about why music is composed in the first place. The issue of whether someone can play my pieces better than me is irrelevant -- it has nothing to do with the creative act of making music, composing or interpreting, and nothing to do with the music itself. More on this later. Composing is an act of giving. Of course those of us who do it professionally would like to make a good living from it, and are pleased (delighted, actually) to receive recognition and income. But there are lots of easier ways to make a great deal more money utilizing many of the skills and talents that contribute to effective composition, so it isn't only renumeration that propels us. There are composers who make it big (Soundtrack: crowd going wild, cheers for a Micky Mantle upper deck home run at Yankee Stadium); it can be done. And sometimes, unlike Mozart, the composer is alive when it happens. (Fade in inspirational string tremolos with whistful, semi-breathless voice-over) "If only I had royalty checks the size of Paul McCartney's... " (Fade out ). Muchan, you seem somewhat unclear in understanding that performing is an act of giving, too. When someone plays a piece, the interpretation is the act of giving that completes the creation of the music. A piece that is intended by a composer for another musician or musicians to play remains incomplete, potential only, until played. What all composers are hoping for is that their music will be performed with understanding, committment, passion, skill. It is a fallacy that performers are supposed to submit themselves to the will of the composer, to do the composers musical bidding and while doing so, to obviate their own personalities. Resaid: Dig the music, dig INTO the music and dig into yourself doing it. Don't erase yourself, join with the music. When players accept the "submission thing", the result is uniformly boring. Composers have individual conceptions as to what kind of and how much interpretive variation they intend for performers to bring to their scores. Hopefully notation makes this clear. But regardless of the type of and degree of interpretive latitude, composers dream of insightful performances that give life to the music and reveal ubnexpecyed dimensions in it. Good composers have always understood that by inviting other humans to participate in a piece means that they will bring their own perspectives to the music. When it works, its transcendant. When it doesn't, it can be agony all around. The number one, absolutely surefire way to make the music fail is not to bring yourself to it. If virtually every note is marked and controlled, as in Boulez and Berio, then interpretive lattitude is in such things as subtle variations of note lengths, tiny but vital rhythmic inflections and personalization of phrase directions. If markings are largely absent, as in Handel, then a great deal of responsibility is being handed to the interpreter. If the composer asks for substantial improvisation, as Bach often does and Duke Ellington typically does, then full scale co-creation is the order of the day. Composers have asked for every degree of interpretive interaction in between. In all cases, we take our chances when we embrace the philosophy/reality that the listeners will experience the music as it is interpreted by others. We hope for the best in terms of an informed performance, one that reflects understanding of what the music is all about and communicates the emotional and intellectual messages with conviction and clarity. And we understand that interpreters must go through their own personalities, realities to reach an understandingof the music. This understanding is not to be a clone of the composer's, but a new life. When it works, its transcendant. When it doesn't, it can be agony all around. When composers don't want interaction with other humans in the course of their art, they make computer music or some form of recorded music that needs only be played by a machine. Or they play the music themselves and don't provide for others to play, content with a unique personal expression communicated in concerts and recordings, Being human, there have been times when composers have misunderstood the interactive role of interpreters and should have used machines instead of people. But these are errors, not norms. During my years as principal flutist in the Brooklyn Philharmonic in New York, we did a huge project with Steve Reich, "The Desert Music". Steve wanted robotic, absolutely literal performance of his music in every detail. When I experimented in rehearsal with microscopic inflections of note lengths, and I mean microscopic -- he flipped out. That he used a giant orchestra augmented by many percussionists and large chorus instead of a sequencer with one little green "start" button was, in my view (and there were many weeks to view it and think about it) an act of pompousity and vanity. It was good business, though, because of the spectacle. We musicians, however, were misused and resented it intensly. And now to Muchan's question about playing the music of living composer performers. Muchan, my man, please don't wait until I die. (Fade in mournful muted brass and stuttering, grief striken oboes - easily done, just ask them to flutter tongue.) When I write out a piece so that others can play it, it is my dearest hope that they will. And that they will not play it exactly the same as I do. Your entire question implies that there is some sort of competition between us. Who can be better? Please get this out of your head and heart. When a flutist plays my piece "Afterlight" (for flute alone), I am hoping the clear interpretative liberties that the notation shows will be taken up in an individual manner by the PERSON playing. Show me yourself in my music, please. This worrying about whether you can express my music, or Gary Schocker's, or anyone's "better" than we can is silly. Its a misplaced paranoia generated by the audition mentality that dictates technical perfection and minimum risk taking. Another way of saying the same thing is that teachers stress that students shouldn't distort music any old way they feel at the moment just because they feel like it, but should play stylistically. Whether playing classical music or rock n' roll, stylistic understanding comes first. Then, inside of the definitions and freedoms of the given style, the interpreters personality, soul, mentality -- all must be in full force. One of the reasons I love to play Jimi Hendrix's music is the amazing degree of freedom in it. But if you lose the focus, then "Voodoo Child, Slight Return" can crash and burn/ its flight as Delta Blues in the Asteroid Belt over, it can quickly devolve into shapeless, boring noodling. No matter what the music, definition is key and passion gets you through the door. Can I play a piece of Gary Schocker's music "better" then he can? I doubt it very much. Is that what Gary is looking for? I doubt that very much, too. But what I can do, and what you can also, is to play his piece with personal, passionate understanding . And if we do this bringing ourselves through the music, then he, or me, or any composer will be moved -- and so will the audience. Whether we are alive or dead, that does not change. Music is music. If you play our music in this way while we are alive to hear it, we won't have to take it totally on faith that our music is any good. (Ecstatic polytonal fanfares. Composer doesn't have to go to grave swearing "They'll realize my music is great one day... maybe in the far far future, maybe tomorrow, sniff... croak ). We will be thankful that you have accepted our gift. And when you bring to light some phrase connection that we haven't seen in our own music, or communicate an unanticipated, yet beautiful and valid interpretation, this is the ultimate confirmation of the music's value.
Robert Dick
Some Thoughts On Doubling The posts written by doublers have been really interesting. Thanks for sharing perspectives, musical and instrumental, that are different from the single instrument, classical focus more typical of flutists. Doubling colleagues (sounds like an antidote to downsizing) like Ned Rothenberg and Marty Ehrlich use their multiple instruments as dimensions in their expression. Whether one chooses to do this with several horns or with one, it all comes down to the reality that its an incredible amount of work to reach the desired level of mastery. Perhaps there has been a sort of undertow in terms of an assumption that a "symphonic" quality of flute tone is "the" sound, the standard that other sounds are measured against. It ain't necessarily so. As a believer in the multi-cultural philosophy, the hierarchical concept is disturbing. My point about the traditional jazz flute sound was simply that as a relative newcomer, its got further evolving to do. There's no doubt in my mind that Eric Dolphy would have grown into a titan of the flute had he not died in his thirties. His flute playing on "Out to Lunch" pointed towards his desire to have as wide a tonal spectrum on the flute as he did on tenor saxophone and bass clarinet. Those tentave multiphonics on his tune "Gazzelloni" were the early blossoms of a sonic spring that tragically never got to happen. What hasn't been talked about so much is WHY the flute often sounds like it does in the hands of reed players. I don't believe its "untrained ears". If you're looking for good ears -- get some good jazzers on the scene, or good players of any other music taught by ear. And now, a little free-associative digression: Doesn't the expression "trained ears" conjure up images of panting lobes exitedly dashing after thrown pretzel sticks, or maybe balancing miniature beach balls while perched on tiny podiums? Little ears doing the CanCan or Bunny Hop? Hurling flute earrings javelin style? (How's that for a segue back to topic?) Anyway... a concept to consider is the difference in nature between sound production on reed instruments and flutes. Acoustically, reed instruments are classified as "impedance" instruments, The clarinet is the clearest example. When making embouchure adjustments towards getting to the place where the harmonics in the tone are strongest, if the instrument sounds best at the same moment the player finds the center of resistance, the place where the instrument "pushes back" hardest, then its a good clarinet. The saxophone isn't quite as resistant but the same concept applies. Comments from those who really know this stuff from experience would be welcome. Flutes of all types -- keyed, un-keyed, metal, wood, bamboo or whatever material, side blown or end blown a la Shakuhachi or Narh flutes from India, and all flute-related instruments such as fippled flutes, the recorders and ocarinas etc -- are classified as "admittance" instruments. If the instrument amplifies its harmonics most strongly when the embouchure is adjusted so that the most air can be moved through it, its a winner. So a musician who plays several reed instruments and gets fine results by understanding the ways they are similar (and different too, of course) would naturally look in the same places when taking up the flute. In jazz bands, the flute is found in the "reed" section. When I have taught doublers, without exception the first thing needed was to explain this difference and to show how the flute uses a lot more air then the reeds. Instead of "leaning into" the flute to find a resistance to push against, better results are to be had in finding where the flute accepts the air and filling it. This concept, more than any other, has been effective in curing the unsupported sound that usually comes from reed players when they begin the flute. Its a problem that often frustrates and baffles musicians who sound beautiful on reeds. They've got ears and can hear that the flute tone doesn't have the same life as their reed sound, and yet the harder they push, the less comes out. And because the embouchure and air are directed towards resistance instead of flow, the formation of the throat and chest often tends towards tightness, compounding the problem. Once the issue of opening up is addressed, then the player is truly at "square one". Embouchure, articulation, dynamics, etc etc can then be worked on with the goal of developing a sound or sounds that are right for the music the musician wants to play. As I am writing this, I am thinking about how, in a very real sense, I'm a doubler too. When I go into my studio to practice, the clamor starts up. "Me first" cry the flute, the bass flute, the alto flute. "You didn't play Me yesterday" the glissando headjoint demures. "I'm feeling ignored these days" comes from the F-bass flute. And "get your ass over here" the contrabass flute, er... requests. Not to mention the piccolos in the closet screaming to be let out. They are all much more than "doubles" and each requires substantial time. Ciao for now. Time to close before I start riffing off topic again. Is there a "lobes" list?
Robert Dick
Asking the Right Questions to Teach a Great Lesson And now (drum roll, please...............) the Greatest Flute Lesson I Ever Took (BOOM!!!!!!!) We are once again in Julius Baker's apartment on West End Avenue and 74th Street in Manhattan, and its awfully early on a Sunday morning in the Spring of 1968. I studied privately with Julie, not at Julie-yard or through another institution, and Sunday was his private students day. Why did I get stuck with the 8:00 AM slot? "You've got the shortest distance to travel, so you're first." Arguing about biorhythms was not going to help, even if I could have had the presence of mind to try. Particularly on sub-artic January and February Sunday mornings that year, I meditated on the remarkable lack of concern on the part of the subway system for passengers' concerns. I froze my young and thin butt off, waiting forever for the damn train. Had to hit the subway platform at 6:30 AM to be sure to get to the lesson on time. I think I mentioned this once to Julie; it appeared not to bother him in the least. Anyway, by the spring of that one year I worked intensely with him, I had made enormous progress. It was one of those breakthrough years and was thrilling. Julie knew I was paying for the lessons myself, and was very generous with extra, uncharged for, time. Coming up with $25 a shot was a challenge for a college freshman in '68 (equivalent to at least $150 now). I didn't have my own bank account then, so I'd sign over $5.00 checks from church jobs, $3.00 checks from flute lessons, and maybe have to throw in a Dollar bill or two in cash. I was always the kind of student who was full of ideas and initiative, but with one strange exception. At that time, I was convinced that Julie's recording of the Bach Eb Sonata was IT, the cat's meow, the living end. Why it was this piece, I haven't a clue. But I absolutely thought this recording (on Decca Records with Sylvia Marlowe playing harpsichord) was the bending end. At that time I believed that anything and everything I might have to say in this piece was alreadyt said better, far better, on Julie's record. Listening to it today, one must still give it up to Julie that he recorded the most beautiful flute sound ever, but his interpretation is pretty darn square. I just couldn't hear that then. But back to my 18 year old perceptions. I decided that, since it was futile to even think about an original approach to this sonata, I was going to copy Baker's record perfectly. I had heard that the the Juilliard students worked hard to copy Julie, and they thought he liked it. Being extremely competitive in those days, unasked, I took on the challenge of copying Julius Baker better than any Juilliard student ever had, would, or could. It was my Secret Mission. And lets not forget that a teenager on a Mission is an Unstoppable Force. Roll over, Beethoven. So I listened to the record countless times, played along with it endlessly. With my first tape recorder, I was able to listen to it at one-half and one-quarter speeds, so as to detail every vibrato placement, every articulation. Put simply, I went nuts. This Secret Mission was not something I revealed to Julie. I worked on this project for many months along side of the massive load of exercises, etudes (at least three per lesson - I didn't have a critical perspective on them then), and pieces that he required. And then, one Sunday, the next student was late.... and Julie said "Well, is there anything else you'd like to play?" I thought "Its now or never" and said "How about the Bach Eb Sonata?" To my perception at the time, I did my "Baker" better than I had ever done it before. I thought that that I had risen to ocassion and played The Man's record for The Man himself. I thought that I had absolutely smoked the first movement. Looking up, I was expecting to see a beaming Julius Baker brimming with pride and satisfaction. Shockingly, he looked like he was in severe abdominal pain. "What did you play like that for? You sounded so good for the whole hour and now it sounds like you're not there." One hears descriptions of moments of crisis or of total surprise in which the very earth seems to dissolve underfoot. These descriptions are true. Gravity had abandoned me. Adrift in a directionless soup of random molecules, I was microscopic. There was nothing to do but cough up the furball of truth and to tell Julie why I had played "like that". "Oh, I understand" he said, in a tone that didn't help me feel one tiny bit better. I still didn't have a clue as to why this all had gone so terribly wrong. Imitating Julie was supposed to be the name of the game -- I believed I had done it superlatively. And yet he looked like he needed an immediate Alka-Seltzer. He then said, "Let me tell you something. No! Let me tell you two things. The first is a reality, the second is important. The reality is, that when people want to hear me, they call me." At this moment, even the finest, most highly callibrated test instruments would have struggled to locate young Robert, who was about the size of a Ping Pong ball in a game played by electrons. I was struggling not to faint, or even worse, to lose my breakfast. Then, bless his heart, Julie reached out and saved me. "And this is what's important -- I like to think that I've gone beyond my teachers, and I want to be damn sure that my students surpass me. I NEVER WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER NOTE FROM YOU AGAIN THAT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE YOURSELF." Blam! Splat! My superficial reality bit the dust. I realized that I hadn't learned the MUSIC, I had learned A RECORD. And only the flute part of the record without going deeper. By asking the right questions, Julie had let me see for myself that I had missed the point, had been seduced by flutism instead of artistry. And, sensing how totally vulnerable I was, he gave me a gift of power. Instead of laying some crap on me about following in this or that sacred path, he told me to be myself. I'll never forget it. Hope you won't either.
Robert Dick
Why I Love the Cooper Scale I love the Cooper scale, having played it or something extremely close to it for over fifteen years. It was an immense relief to shed the extreme adjusting that was constantly needed to play in tune on what some euphemistically refer to as "long scale flutes". And while no scale is perfect, especially while a human is blowing on it, the Cooper scale lets the musician work on the music, making adjustments for timbre. To date, the Cooper and Bennett scales represent the state of the art. If a better scale comes along -- look for me to be playing on with alacrity! While many are familiar with the info that follows, hopefully it will be of use to others who are newer to to the flute. The small C# hole is the most multi-purpose of any on the flute. There is no way that one hole can fulfill all of its functions perfectly. In balancing the roles of that hole -- to make the second and third octave C# s and to vent the second octave D and D#, the third octave D, G#, A and A#, and the fourth octave C# and D -- all designers have compromised. A full sized tonehole placed further down the flute would make wonderful C#s but the vented notes would be terrible. A hole considerably smaller than the C# holes we're used to seeing would be better for venting. It would be placed visibly higher than the usual C# position. While making the vented notes nicer, it would produce extremely sharp and thin sounding C#s. Boehm goes into depth about this dilema and his thought process about it in his book "The Flute and Flute Playing". He devised the compromise small hole, accepting that it would do all of its jobs imperfectly, but well enough for musical players to correct, and he opted away from making the mechanism more complex. A more modern solution has been to add the key that most of us would call the "C# trill", a full sized tone hole which is normally closed and opened by a touch operated by the right hand forefinger. This gives acoustically correct C#s. Some folks don't care for the "extra" mechanism; I think its great. Going even further, Alexander Murray, John Coltman and Jacques Zoon have devised mechanisms that switch between small and large C# holes depending on the note being played. But back to regular flutes made without special options like a C# trill. Time to compare the effects of some "traditional" scales (pre-Deveau Haynes and pre-Cooper Powell) and "new" scales (Cooper and Bennett). I played on a great old Powell (#1735) for fifteen years. Made for James Pappoutsakis of the Boston Symphony, this flute is representative of vintage Powell's at their finest. I also have played on old Haynes flutes extensively. This is a prelude to saying that one has to learn the large adjustments nevessary to play these old scale flutes in tune. The old Haynes scale required more adjustment by the flutist than the old Powell. Both the old scales were copied from a 19th century Louis Lott flute that was well in tune at A=435, the pitch it was played at when made. Lott made the best flutes of his era (I know some prefer Bonville, etc -- but Lott is the acknowledged master of the time, acknowledged by Boehm himself). And thus, what Lott did, other makers copied mindlessly. They emulating his fine qualities, a plus. But because they didn't analyze but merely copied, they didn't modify the scale to bring it up to A=440. Instead, headjoints got shorter and the pitch relationships within the scale got worse. The notes above A got sharp and the notes below it got flat. A Louis Lott flute made by Lott himself is a marvel, if you play at A=435. At A=440, it is an intonational nightmare, a nightmare that Lott himself certainly never had in mind. Players got used to this problem. We had no choice. Up until the introduction of the Cooper scale by Powell in the early 1970's, the only well in tune flutes (at A=440) available in the US were student models. This includes the old Haynes closed-hole flute which Mara accurately pinpoints as having a good scale. My first teacher Henry Zlotnik used to say that in a truly just world, every talented beginner would have a Haynes closed-hole to start on. But the student flutes from other makers also had better scales than their professional models in those days. Student flutes had to play better in tune or band directors would buy another brand. Beginners coulldn't make the adjustments that professionals could, so the flutes were made better in tune so as not to require such large pitch adjustments. The acoustician Arthur Benade commented about this in a long conversation we had about flute scales and flute bores (the acoustic type of bore; the conversation was fascinating). But those same makers, including Haynes, made a "French" scale for their professional models. Kind of dumb, isn't it? Tradition is cool up to a point; the point when tradition means turning off the brain. Then tradition gets old and cold, and needs a warm, living infusion of new ideas. Because musicians are musical, they learned to play on the long scale flutes, the flutes with an A=435 scale with a short headjoint. And since certain makers were gifted, most especially Verne Powell, flutes with remarkable headjoints and superb potential resonance were made. The old French way to deal with a long scale was to push the head in as far as it would go, and even to have the headjoints cut very very short. The player then turned in, covering the embouchure hole a lot and blew HARD. Some folks like this sound, but anyone who is honest when listening to players taking this approach, historic or current, must admit that the intonational problems it causes are extreme. With only rare exceptions, the intonation is generally awful. In the US, flutists took a different approach. Beginning with Joseph Mariano, an American conception of how to get the most out of the old scale flutes was born. Players pulled the headjoint OUT, putting the flute in tune with itself at A=435. Then, with the headjoint turned well outwards from the French position, strong blowing was used to blow the whole flute up to pitch. This yielded much better intonation, brought to a state of perfection by Julius Baker. As a student, I learned this approach. But as time went by, I realized that playing with the headjoint pulled out so far was restricting color possibilities. Its like playing tennis fifteen feet behind the baseline. Nobody is going to pass you, but you can't shoot at many angles. Also, as I played the newer scale flutes that entered the US in the 70's (Cooper scale Powell's and the Japanese flutes like Muramatsu and Sankyo) I realized that by learning to play in tune on a better in tune flute, I could put more energy into expression and less into correction. I most strongly disagree with flutists who say the new scale flutes are less colorful than the old. They are simply playing the new scale flutes as if they were old scale. Making the same corrections that would bring a 1950's vintage Haynes or Powell into acceptable pitch will pull a current day Haynes, Powell, Brannen, whatever way, way off of its resonance. When players learned to handle the new scales, worlds of new colors opened. Anyone planning to buy a good flute today ought to listen to themselves playing a variety of flutes. Record on whatever is available. But record! Nobody can judge your playing like you can! Of course its important to listen to advice as well. But please, ALWAYS consider the source. I'm afraid that not much reasoned advice comes from the long scale corner. Its more than a bit like shopping for a new car, looking at Fiats and VWs and Fords and Toyotas, and then asking advice from members of the Citroën club, or the Bugatti club. (Bugatti's were once very fine French sports cars. They needed lots of maintainance and were very tempramental. Owning a Bugatti was a way of life; either you were a mechanic or could afford to hire one full time. Those who could do this were passionate.) The folks who are dedicated to the old flutes have a point of view, a strong one often eloquently put in poetic, but frustratingly vague terms. The border between passion and denial can be vague. Unless you understand their bias and why they have it, their advice will be misleading. To the best of my knowledge, the main difference between the Cooper and Bennett scales is the small C# hole. The Cooper scale has a slightly smaller hole with a higher tone hole, and this tone hole is placed a tiny bit higher up the flute. The concept is to capture characteristics of the ideal vent hole, higher and smaller, and yet to bring it into decent intonation by making the tone hole higher, thus giving a flattening effect. I have never had a problem with insufficient venting from this hole. That criticism must be made by someone who plays with the embouchure hole very covered, a sound that, frankly, I've heard more than enough of. William Bennett took a slightly diffferent approach to the C#. His C# hole is a little bit larger and is placed somewhat further down the flute. It is also slightly higher than the other tone holes. The concept is to capture more of the essence of the ideal, large hole C#. In the end, I have to say that it comes down to a matter of tiny subtleties in feel. Both the Cooper and Bennett scales are terrific and are light years in advance of the 19th century "old scales". Bennett himself is quite the colorful player, playing on a Bennett scale, naturally. Anyone listening to him ought to use the evidence of their own ears to put to rest fictional fears that modern scale flutes are less colorful than old scale flutes.
Robert Dick
Circular Breathing -- What and Why Read more about Circular Breating in the FLUTE FAQ 2.1.82
http://www.industrialhaiku.com/RobertDickWebsite.html Circular breathing enables the flutist or other wind player to maintain a continuous tone while simultaneously inhaling. This description is very simplified. While playing, the flutist stores some air in the mouth by inflating the cheeks. Then the back of the tongue is brought into contact with the back of the hard palette (the roof of the mouth) as if to say the word "Gong" without the final G -- "Gonnnnn". This isolates the air in the mouth. The flutist then plays the flute by squeezing the air out of the mouth with the cheeks while at the same time sniffing in a bit of air through the nose. As soon as a small amount of air is inhaled, the back of the tongue is brought down to its normal position and "normal" exhalation continues. Very shortly after, inflation of the cheeks begins again, etc, etc. The cycle goes round and round with frequent small breaths, thus its called circular breathing. Circular breathing flutists establish a long term deep breathing pattern when they sustain the sound for minutes on end. Inhaling slightly more than is used to play the flute between circular breaths allows a longer term inhalation, some six or so circular breathing cycles. Inhaling a little less than is used to play between circular breaths creates the long term exhalation. Circular breathing is the normal mode of breathing for many instruments, including members of the flute family such as the Narh flutes of India and the Bulgarian Kaval. Didgeridoo players circular breathe, as do many saxophonists and other reed players worldwide. (A friend just sent a couple of CDs by the Australian didgeridoo virtuoso David Hudson -- fantastic!) Why should a 21st century flutist playing on a Boehm flute learn to circular breathe? Circular breathing ought to be at the top of every young flutist's "must" list for at least three reasons: 1) To stay in touch with the music of our time, your time. The music of the present and future. Creative flutists like Gergely Ittzes, Ann LaBerge, Ned McGowan, Istvan Matuz, Philippe Racine, Matthias Ziegler, myself and many others are leading the way in developing the flute music of the next century. Our music influences composers who don't play the flute but who want to be on the leading edge. This has always gone on, just look at the effect Harvey Sollberger had on composers of his generation, or Severino Gazzelloni had on his. Flutists who do not circular breathe will be progressively isolated from the music of their own lifetimes and the music that will develop in the lifetimes of their students. 2) To play older music better. Circular breathing solves some big musical problems that were caused by the development of the modern flute. Boehm flutes have a much larger embouchure hole and toneholes than did the traverso and conical 19th century flutes. This makes the more powerful sound that Boehm wanted, a sound that uses much more air to create. Not really a problem except for all the music that came before that included the long phrases that are natural on traverso. Especially in J.S. Bach, the Boehm flutist frequently has to compromise by adding breaths where the music would be better without, or by flattening out the dynamics and expression. This is one of the reasons that lead many back to the traverso to realize 18th century music in its fullness. With circular breathing, older music can be phrased as it was intended while played with the modern instrument. Musical taste on the performer's part is of course critical. One doesn't simply remove all the breaths. Circular breathing is like every other technique, a tool that can be used to create beauty or to vandalize it. This issue has compounded itself over time as flutes of the 20th century progressed in the direction of loudness and increased timbral range. The opening of Debussy's "Faun" requires more air on a mid or late 20th century flute than on a late 19th century instrument. And that solo has to be played in larger concert halls for an audience that has learned to hear music from recordings, learned the very present sounds of instruments when played into closely placed microphones. The contemporary audience is not so used to the way sound changes, losing higher harmonics, as it travels. The flutist needs to play with a tone that is rich in harmonics and must project those harmonics far further than the flutist of generations ago, or otherwise risk sounding distant and small. Whether one likes it or not, it is an aspect of contemporary reality, one that is not going to go away. 3) Survival. As simple as that. Circular breathing is a factor when jobs are on the line. The flutist who can play with the more musical phrasing that this technique makes possible enjoys a huge advantage over the flutist who cannot. I received a "thank you" note from Robert Cronin when he won the principal chair in the Kansas City Philharmonic in the 1980's. He got the position because the conductor was amazed at the way he played "Faun". With circular breathing, his playing had more expressive freedom than others, and was without any sense of strain. Circular breathing is taught to all flutists at several major European conservatories. Its here. The time is fast approaching when the flutist who can not circular breathe will have to explain "why not?" And will be in the difficult position of having to justify her or his hiring over the more qualified flutist who can play and teach with circular breathing. Happy new day, week, month, year, century, millenium, infinity! Exciting, isn't it?
Robert Dick
Etudes -- students and teachers, goals and methods I quite agree with those who feel that teachers and students have to come to some reasonable mutual understanding of why the student is playing the flute, what the student's goals are and how best to achieve them. Not everyone is aiming at a professional career and not everyone wants to play every repertoire or to put in the kind of work necessary to play certain repertoires. If a teacher can't deal with someone who is not "serious" enough, then (as has been well said in other posts), its best to pass the student on to someone who they will be comfortable with. Its no crime just to want to have fun with the flute. Nor is it a crime to have limited practice time when non-musical career and family demands come first. If someone has 30 - 45 minutes a day to practice, then some basic warmups combining scales, intervals, throat tuning and the like, a bit of playing by ear and a piece or two is about what can be managed, and that's assuming really good concentration. The technical studies will have to suffice on the "learning the flute" front and for unusual technical problems that crop up in pieces, good teaching of effective practice methods and plain old practice in the context of the pieces will have to do. But if the flutist is serious, as in serious amateur or pre-professional or professional, then the question of etudes -- when, which and how -- becomes very relevant. Speaking of the serious player now, regardless of the type of music someone wants to focus on, a strong fundamental knowledge and ability of how to play the instrument is vital. Technique represents potential musical freedom. If we can't express what we feel, no listener can understand our musical message. And if we can't handle a broad range of repertoire, we're probably never going to survive long enough as musicians to get to the music we most want to do. Etudes are an indispensable part of the mix of things needed to develop our ability to handle the instrument at a high level. Many have oversimplified or misunderstood what I've had to say about etudes in the past. I don't think they are all worthless. And I don't think that learning etudes is unnecessary or is in some way negative -- unless they are learned in an unmusical, unthinking way. Where I part company with many traditional teachers is in the idea of making a more rigorous, thoughtful selection of what etudes to study, how to work with them, and which to avoid. Fundamental to this is to consider the three basic centuries of music we've got to work with -- 18th, 19th and 20th. I do feel that more attention ought to be paid to the 18th and 20th than is generally the case, and less to the flute music of the 19th century, which is an aesthetic wasteland. (I know there are people who love Victorian music and/or Paris Conservatory gymnastics, and as in all cases, I'd urge them to follow their love. We all have our own lives to live.) Since most etudes were written to prepare the flutist for 19th century repertoire, it makes sense to think about how to apportion practice so that things are not overbalanced in favor of the worst repertoire and preparations for it. About preparing for 18th century music. Surely the experts on the list will correct me if I'm mistaken in my impression that etudes per se evolved as a 19th century practice. Frederick the Great's small studies are nice, and very helpful, but are there many other studies from that period? 18th century musicians learned the basics of the music: harmony, melody and melodic embellishment and improvisation and the basics of their instruments, and then developed by playing and creating repertoire. By learning composition, which all trained musicians did, they were, in effect,creating their own etudes as they went along. In the 19th century, technical demands escalated exponentially and it became necessary to spend more time on developing command of the instrument. The "virtuoso" became a fixture on the musical landscape. Many were simply technicians, others like Paganini really had something timelss to say. But with virtuosity on stage, the level of difficulty in repertoire both solo and orchestral, climbed rapidly. The Romantic vision was a grand one. At its best, its truly enobling. At its worst; claptrap. Sometimes very very hard claptrap. I would propose that in working through the basic etude composers like Berbiguier, Kohler, Andersen and the like, that we be selective. There's no harm in skipping a study that's just too dumb. There are plenty of others that will better cover whatever musical issue is at hand. And there are really dumb, uninspired studies aplenty. Why waste time on them? There's a lot of better material to work on. On rare ocassions claptrap can be of value for the teaching of melodrama in music. There are a few slow Andersen etudes that are cloying and silly, but I always asked my young students to play them and to play them in a way that would make a grandmother cry. It helped them get out of themselves and to learn to play big musical gestures. But for the most part, playing stupid music just turns off musicality. It contributes to students quitting the flute andm for the serious to soldier through them but with ears turned off. In taking a harmonically and melodically simple study like one of Berbiguier's, for example, why not practice it in the written key and then transpose it? This brings study of harmony into the flute studio on apractical level and transforms the challenge of the etude. Since transposition is of such importance in folk musics and in the studio, its a Darwinian technique for the 21st century. The "read only" flutist is going to become a scarce commodity in professional music making and will be at a disadvantage in amateur circles where keys get moved around to fit instrumentation and vocal ranges. Now I must add a rare word of thanks to Andersen because of all those double sharps and double flats. Sightreading major Romantic repertoire in the orchestra was made possible because of this background study. That said, Andersen was generous with the double flats and sharps; they are in his musically most palatable studies as well as in the ones he wrote with obvious, trite formulas. No need to suffer through the Virtuosity Studies; they'll saw 20 points off your IQ. And now a word about 20th century studies. Why are practice of these so rare? To start with, the Karg-Elert Caprices are among the best studies ever written. If one actually plays them as marked (and Karg-Elert is the best at marking expressions, articulations, dynamics, etc that I have ever seen), they pay enormous benefits. For help learning styles from later in the century: Marlaena Kessick has a very nice collection of studies for the 1950's period of Italian music, the era of Berio and Maderna called "20 Studietti Preparatori Alla Musica Contemporanea" (Ricordi). More recently, Michael Colquhoun's "9 Etudes for the Contemporary Flutist" (McGinnis & Marx) delves into multiphonics and microtones and the flute's relationship to Latin styles and the world of syncopation. My "Flying Lessons" (Multiple Breath) focus on the wealth of the flute's sound color, multiphonic languages and some world music and rock styles. And there are many more. Its not surprising that so much 20th century music is played with so little stylistic awareness given that background studies in the relevant styles are rarely taught. Of course not every 20th century study is a gem. Some are also just too dumb to burn time on. But it would be great to see 20th century studies getting a lot more air time in flute studios. They are part of the foundation that every serious flute technique has got to have, and if they're missing from a teacher's studio, they probably will be missing from the student's. And along with the missing studies, the missing 20th century repertoire, and the presence of the question that nags so many flutists: "Isn't there anything better than this stuff I'm playing?" There is. In closing, I must support Britt East when he stresses that each of us has a great etude composer right at home -- ourselves! If more flutists were to create studies out of difficult passages or knotty fingering problems, (or just something that sounds like fun!) there would be a higher level of musical knowledge and communication as well as technique in the flute world. I'm afraid I quite frightened a bunch of college students early this year when I told them that they would need to create their own studies. It was so very sad to see their fear and disbelief in themselves. Because of their training, only reading music, never transposing, never improvising, never exploring who they were as musical individuals, they were convinced that they couldn't do something as simple as to make a little study on a fingering sequence. A result of years of conditioning that the classical flutist is not creative, clearly they disbelieved me when I told them how easy it is and that I'd be happy to show them how. Creating etudes was a common activity for 19th century flutists. For better and for worse, shouldn't it be as common in the 21st century?
Robert Dick
Studying in Germany About studying in Germany first. I don't know who the flute teacher is that you will be working with in Mannheim. Perhaps this person will be wonderful -- don't get ahead of your worry schedule. An important aspect of the teaching philosophy in Germany and Switzerland, and elsewhere in Europe too, is that students need to be self-motivated. Teachers are often far less encouraging than in the States -- and this is not necessarily a bad thing. At the university or conservatory or Musikhochschule (roughly "music high school", a conservatory), students are on the cusp of entering adult, professional life, where like it or not, its sink or swim. The idea is that its better to find out if students can be self-powered in a sink or swim environment BEFORE they enter the professional world. Its also important to realize that there still are national and regional styles of playing, which can be QUITE pronounced. Depending on a teacher's experience and attitude, this can either be a boon or a potentially crippling problem. All too often, I'm afraid, a teacher confronted by a student playing in a different national style will simply declare the student to be WRONG and start to "correct". It takes real experience and maturity on both sides of the teacher/student relationship to make an assessment of what is good in a student's playing and should be strengthened, and what might benefit from a truly different perspective. This is equally true regardless of which way the ocean is crossed, or which ocean or mountain or river. That said, the fundamental focus of the teaching of the so-called "orchestral instruments" like flute in German Musikhochschule is to train students to play in German orchestras. Quite frequently, teachers not only don't know about other musical and professional realities but are unaware that there even ARE other musical and professional realities. And in these cases, as in all aspects of life, ignorance is the breeding ground of absolutism. My take on the reason for studying abroad is hardly unique. The benefits of perspective are undeniable. Its a good thing to see and hear that people play differently, very differently. And think differently, very differently. And not only about the flute and music. Perspective, when intelligently used, leads to productive self-evaluation. There's nothing wrong with learning to play in other ways. Flexibility is not only good for your technique, it is a critical Darwinian tool for survival. You will need to be able to match other players' tone and approach when you play second or third flute. Loving your own tone is nice -- but have you looked at your idea of tone in the light of many perspectives? If not, then head yourself to where you will encounter those perspectives! There is so much to draw on in the wider world. Learning about French and German articulations, for example, which are VERY different, can be a huge help in interpreting repertoire that originated in these countries. There are aspects of each national school that are well worth absorbing. And each national school, including the American, has aspects which are better taken out with the trash. Americans are often shocked to learn that they sound "American". Quite often this is applied as a chauvinistic putdown. One must always consider the source. The more absolutely such a statement is delivered, the less likely it is to have validity. Music is an art, not mathematics where 2 plus 2 equals 4 in any physical environment we will experience. I say this to prepare you for hearing a lot of absolute statements in Germany. To a great degree, there is A WAY TO PLAY to get into a German orchestra. While this may not be so true at the Berlin Philharmonic level, it is frequently graven in stone at the regional orchestra level. Your teacher may know no other way -- or, she or he may. The absolutism problem is also partially due to language. German, in translation in the "sort of OK" English you will frequently encounter, comes across as really tough, almost brutal at times. You should know that the opposite is also true. English speakers translating into German at beginning and intermediate levels also sound really absolute to native German speakers. Allow for this margin of error. Qualities of "American" flute playing that Europeans have a tendency criticize are unclarity of articulation, a "lumpiness" in phrasing, large and unvarying vibrato and a general blandness of interpretation. By "lumpiness" I mean that when musical importance is to stressed, notes are lengthened, often to the point of musical distortion and at the expense of accurate rhythm. This is the result of only lengthening to give musical importance and not shortening (or decreasing vibrato) on what is less important so as to let the important material stand out in higher relief. I have to say that I agree with the above points and wish that American flute playing would graduate from its primary tradition of being taught by orchestral players whose stress is on note-perfect playing that stays "cool" and doesn't take interpretive chances. The consonants in American English aren't the most effective for really defined articulation and learning the French approach to articulation (but not to intonation) makes a great deal of sense. That said -- there are aspects of American playing that are a breath of fresh air when compared to European approaches. What a relief -- a HUGE relief -- to hear people play in tune! How enjoyable to savor a rich and colorful sound. And American musicians are more likely to be aware of a multi-cultural approach. I wish this was more often the case -- but its still true that Europeans are generally behind in this zone. What does this all mean? From the tone of your post, I'd say that a plunge into a totally different musical and cultural environment would be a profound and stimulating experience. Strip off that insulation; it can only hold you back! But it will also be important to evaluate what you are told, what you hear. Why not absorb the good things and reject the unmusical? By being in such a different environment, you'll have to rethink the very meaning of "musical" and examine your own presuppositions, a critical aspect of personal and artistic development. At lessons, you may have to play a certain way -- but this way doesn't have to become your religion. Use the musical differences as valuable tools for widening your perspective. Use the flutistic differences as tools to develop your ear for sound, articulation and flexibility. Use the whole experience as an opportunity for growth. Lastly, you ask "should i just go and trust that whoever my teacher is will know what's 'best'?" NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! NOT AT HOME AND NOT ABROAD! By the time you are in college you need to be increasingly evaluating things for yourself. Your teacher is an important source of information and feedback and guidance, but no teacher is a deity. Regardless of where you are from and where you have studied, the professional world is all about sink or swim. The more aware you are, the broader your perspective, the more tools you have developed, the more you are able to make your own judgements -- the better your chances not only to swim, but to be fulfilled as an artist as you do it.
Robert Dick
Berio Sequenza Here are a couple of basic steps to learning Sequenza: 1) LISTEN to Berio's music, at least ten pieces. Flutists who only study the flute piece and have never heard any of Berio's other music won't really have any idea of what the music is all about. Of course, this is true for any and every composer, past, present ad future. Imagine someone who had never heard a single piece by Mozart tackling the G Major Concerto -- it would sound mighty strange because they wouldn't have a clue as to the style. Recommended listening includes the Sequenza for voice (very important!), the Sinfonia (recorded by the New York Philharmonic with the Swingle Singers -- profound and also very funny), Omagio a Joyce (Homage to James Joyce, the writer), a truly great electronic work. Any and all of Berio's songs and chamber music. The more you listen, the more the style becomes intuitive. Good recordings of the flute Sequenza include Harvey Sollberger's on Nonesuch records and (if I may) mine, on the CD, Ladder 5 of Escape (Attacca Babel #9158 - 1) There is a lot of humor in Berio's music: its not all just aggressive short notes. 2) After purchasing a copy of the score, make a photocopy for your personal study purposes. This is legal as long as you do not give a copy to someone else and you have purchased a published copy. (It is NOT legal, or moral, to photocopy "for study purposes" without buying a legitimate copy.) On the study copy, circle every dynamic with an F in it in red and circle every dynamic with a P in it in blue or other color. Color coding the dynamics will help a lot with the "turn on a dime" lightning-fast dynamic changes that characterize Sequenza. Then, using a very light pencil, extend the little time indicators until they are longer than the staff, extending them through the staff and at least a half inch above and below. The purpose of this is to make them really easy to see, yet not to intrude into interpretive aspects of the music. Don't make them into barlines! We are so used to the upbeat/downbeat implications of barlines and the little time markers have no meaning in regard to where and how phrases start, nor do they indicate downbeat feel. 3) Before tackling the notes, SCAT SING! Move your finger along the music and, like a jazz singer, make up syllables. Express the dynamics and gesture (and don't worry about singing exact pitches). You'll get a great feel for the gestures this way. 4) Learn those notes and phrases and read the proportional notation VERY CAREFULLY. So often notes that are close together are played as if they are even. Take a closer look -- there are small but critical variations in spacing. Play these and the music will come to life. 5) The correct fingering for the multiphonic is low C natural. There are no tricks to playing the perfect fourth. One must learn how to produce multiphonics based on the natural harmonics. This is not done by "splitting the airstream". It is done by playing both notes simultaneously. The bottom of the airstream produces the G natural and the top of the airstream produces the C natural. There is a sequence (no pun intended) of exercises on natural harmonic multiphonics in my book "Tone Development Through Extended Techniques". Learn the octaves (the lowest two harmonics in the overtone series) first, they're easiest. Then learn the perfect fifths (second and third harmonics) and go on to use the same pattern for perfect fourths (third and fourth harmonic). It is possible to play the multiphonic in Sequenza beautifully and with great stability, sustaining it as indicated. Hope this helps! With these first steps, learning and enjoying Berio's Sequenza will be a natural consequence of understanding it.
Robert Dick
Scaling Musical Heights Wissam, dear friend, for the most part I agree with you. The focus on "technique before music" typically results in musical sterility. The "audition mentality" which mandates absolute technical perfection is an outgrowth of this, and musical expression becomes a risk factor rather than the central reason for playing. As a teacher primarily of graduate students (although I do have some undergrads), I find, though, that I do have to mix in a good amount of Trevor's approach to technique while at the same time keeping the development of the individual's musicality and musical personality at the forefront. The concept is simply that absorbing the technique we need from the repertoire generally doesn't work well enough. So while playing pieces within or almost within our grasp keeps the musical pot boiling, learning about the musical ingredients for the next levels before starting those recipes does make sense. Its only when music is put aside for technique that, as you say, the beauty of walking is confined to the treadmill. Back in the 1980s I gave several week long classes in Germany with Geoffrey Gilbert. It was a thrill to meet him and I feel very fortunate to have known him. Each day we alternated between giving the morning and afternoon three hour classes, and each of us attended all of the classes the other taught. At one of Geoffrey's classes, a conservatory student was playing the Mozart D Major Concerto, and making rather a mess of it. Geoffrey diverted the lesson from style and expression -- to the D major scale. At first I thought "Oh no, how plebeian!" But then I realized that there wasn't going to be any style or expression until that stumbling block was overcome; it made sense for Geoffrey to work on it. Had the student known her scales, though, she could have had a fascinating lesson on Mozart. When I teach scales, I ask that they be played the way they occur in music, with crescendi and diminuendi, with vivid articulations and dynamics. And we don't read scales; scale patterns are very easy to listen through. I never want my students to only think about their fingers, or their embouchure. Breaking playing down that way produces the musical equivalent of a bag of chicken parts. We are in search of the live bird. My particular missions as a teacher are to be sure that my students have the multi-faceted abilities that enable them to survive and thrive in the tough world of music. Eventually, most will make their own paths and create highly individual careers. In the beginning, though, sometimes it is more than a little gruff. You offer a valuable perspective when you ask if the fastest way is the best way. I too find it distressing when the person who makes the fewest mistakes gets the job, over and again. The more we play like machines the easier it is for us to be replaced by machines. That all said, though, what does the young musician face when entering the profession? Typically jobs in supporting roles where good skills are what counts. Even those with the wildest, most creative futures are going to need some bread on the table. Had I not been able to sightread expertly and to play really well in tune, I never would have had my first orchestra job, in the Sonny and Cher Orchestra. Or to play piccolo in the New Haven Symphony. And while these weren't the musical jobs I was dreaming of, they were stepping stones. I was playing music instead of working in an office or doing something else. A painter friend once said "technique represents potential freedom". And that is true. He also could have said "technique represents potential slavery", and that is true too. Its up to each of us to know the difference and live it in our music. Robert Dickfrom the FLUTE list - August 2007
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