February 2012 Archives - The Instrumentalist

Jack Wellbaum (1922-2011)

theinstrumenta — Tue, 03 Jul 2012 20:37:14 +0000

   Renowned piccoloist Jack Wellbaum died December 27, 2011 in Cincinnati, Ohio. He was solo piccolo of the Cincinnati Symphony from 1950-1988 and personnel manager from 1974-1990. Wellbaum played principal flute in the Cincinnati Summer Opera Orchestra and the Dayton Philharmonic.
   Wellbaum grew up in Greenville, Ohio where he received his first musical training from his mother, a piano teacher. During WWII he served with distinguished service as a lieutenant in the Navy. He entered the University of Cincinnati’s College-Conservatory of Music where he was a student of Robert Cavally. Besides performing in the Cincinnati Symphony, he taught at the Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music and Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. His students perform in orchestras throughout the world.
   He co-authored Facing the Maestro: A Guide to Orchestral Auditions, published in 1983 by the American Symphony Orchestra League. With Martha Rearick, he also co-authored Orchestral Excerpts for Piccolo with Piano Accompaniment, published by Theodore Presser in 1999.
   In 1985 Wellbaum was honored by the University of Cincinnati’s College-Conservatory of Music with the Distinguished Alumni Award. In 2008 he was honored by the National Flute Association in a tribute concert at the Kansas City convention.
   Wellbaum was married to long time Cincinnati Symphony harpist Linda Iacobucci. They were the parents of three children: Lisa Geber (recently retired harpist of the Cleveland Orchestra), Ray Wellbaum (orchestra manager of the Boston Symphony Orchestra), and Laura Kalaitzoglou (of the Cincinnati Public School System.)

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Questions and Answers

theinstrumenta — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 22:53:31 +0000

Q. Should I practice my piccolo music on the piccolo only?

A. No. Most professional piccolo players practice their piccolo music on the flute, and at the end of their practice session, play it on the piccolo. When playing the piccolo, be sure to wear an ear plug in your right ear to protect your hearing.

Q. My high school flute player wants to attend a summer music festival. Where do we find what is available?

A. The March issue of Flute Talk will include a listing of masterclasses, workshops and music camps. Select one that is age and playing level appropriate. Some camps specialize in such different areas as orchestra or band performance, chamber music performance, or applied study.

Q. Should I sit or stand for practicing?

A. It depends what you are practicing. A good plan is to Stand, Sit, Stand. Stand for warm-ups. Sit for learning notes, perfecting difficult passages, and musical analysis. Stand for solo repertoire.

Q. What kind of cloth should I use to swab my flute?

A. Silk or linen work best because neither fiber leaves any lint. Do wash the cleaning cloth every week or so.

Q. I am a junior in high school and want to major in flute performance in college. I have been told that during my junior year, I should visit each school I am interested in and have a preview lesson. Is this a good idea? Do I pay the teacher for the lesson?

A. Yes, the junior year is the best time to schedule preview lessons. It is better to know now rather than later that you and the teacher are a good fit. While on campus, plan to visit music classes, ensemble rehearsals, and concerts. Talk with current students to get an overall picture of the school. Each school has a different policy on students paying for the preview lesson. Ask the teacher what the policy is when you make the appointment and write a thank you note to the teacher when you return home.

Send questions to editor@flutetalkmagazine or post them to on our Facebook page: .

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A Fresh Look at Breathing, Tone, Articulation and Dynamics

theinstrumenta — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 22:36:19 +0000

Keith Underwood’s masterclasses are a study in creative teaching techniques that simultaneously involve, inform, and entertain attendees with their unorthodox, yet effective, methods. Underwood’s fascination with the mechanics of flute playing, particularly the playing of flutists such as Jean-Pierre Rampal, Julius Baker, and James Galway, has led Underwood to develop many innovative ideas. In addition, he often adapts concepts from the pedagogy of brass and other instruments.
Underwood has been an active flutist and educator in New York for three decades. He has taught and performed in Japan, Mexico, Italy, Brazil, and London, and his students are members of orchestras all over the United States and in Canada, Mexico, Brazil, and Korea. Central to Underwood’s teaching techniques are his observations of flutists, their embouchures, breathing, blowing, tonguing, and posture, to discover what makes them sound the way they do. At a recent masterclass in Portland, Oregon he worked with flutists of all ages and presented practice techniques to improve phrasing, vibrato, articulation, dynamics and sound.

Sing the Phrase
Underwood asked flutists to sing a phrase of music to organize the air and shape the contour of the line. Each variation of this technique was first executed without the flute and then repeated with it. First a flutist sang a phrase of music using the syllable du (as in dew) for each note of the phrase. Next, he placed his tongue between the teeth, blowing air with the syllable th (as in moth) while adhering to the printed rhythms and articulations of the phrase. With this exercise there was no vocal sound, only the swishing of air. The th sound provided resistance to the air and developed the line. Other suggested sounds for vocalizing a phrase of music were duh, luh, and thuh. The air stream was kept constant for best results.
In another exercise the flutist placed a small coffee stirrer straw between his lips and blew the printed rhythms and articulations of the music. At the end of the phrase, he inhaled through the coffee stirrer straw. While holding this air, he removed the straw from the lips and picked up the flute. Then, with this held air, he played the phrase on the flute. The small diameter and resistance of the coffee stirrer kept the aperture small, resulting in better tone and breath control. Underwood remarked that the more emotion the flutist puts into these exercises, the better the results.

Spinning Vibrato
Several additional vocalization techniques help produce a shimmery and spinning vibrato in the phrase. As above, each variation was first executed without the flute and then repeated with it. First the flutist used the syllable yu-yu-yu-yu (pronounced you) to simulate 4 vibratos per beat, as he vocalized the phrase. This exercise also develops rhythmic subdivision skills. Flutists can experiment with other speeds of vibrato, such as 2, 3, 4, 5, or 6 per beat, or different vowel sounds such as yo-yo-yo-yo to change the character of the vibrato. The jaw should be kept still during these exercises.
In another exercise, Underwood had the flutist place the lower lip against the upper teeth to vocalize the phrase with the consonant f-f-f-f (as in fall). Four syllables per beat were used to simulate vibrato. There was a rushing air sound along with the vocalization of the phrase. This technique provided more air resistance and opened up the sound. A variation used the sound tf-f-f-f for a slightly stronger attack or burst of air at the beginning of the phrase.

Articulation
Underwood had several suggestions for tongue placement. For general tonguing, he recommended the syllable du, placing the tip of the tongue on the bumpy area of the upper ridge of the inside of the mouth (alveolar ridge). For double-tonguing he suggested employing either du-gu or ducky. He used du-yu ducky for slur two, tongue two to keep the embouchure stable, resulting in cleaner articulation.
For solos where tongued phrases end with a short note, such as in Rossini’s William Tell Overture, Underwood suggested the articulation du-du-du-du…doy. The syllable doy gives more length and sparkle to the last note with a small diminuendo.

For fast slur 2, slur 2 articulation, such as in Chaminade’s Concertino, he uses the articulation du-ya, du-ya, du-ya.

Tone Improvement
   Underwood advised flutists to angle the end of the flute slightly forward, rather than parallel to the body, such as in marching band position. Think of how violinists use their bow, it is not parallel with the body; it angles out in front of the body.
   Underwood taught a stance called monkey position. (also known as the position of mechanical advantage in Alexander Technique). The flutist should stand with feet facing forward and a shoulder width apart, then bend the knees toward the toes, such as in a ballet dancer’s plié. Then the flutist should lean the torso forward with a slightly rounded back. In this position, Underwood remarked that it is impossible to stiffen arms and legs, or to beat time with the end of the flute because the flutist must concentrate on maintaining balance. Playing flute in this position produced a miraculous improvement in sound by opening up the flutist’s back and improving breath control. Underwood directed students to play a passage in monkey position, then repeat the passage in normal playing position, and finally alternate positions until they could incorporate some of the features of monkey position into the normal stance. Playing in monkey position kept the flutist more active and engaged as he worked to avoid falling over.
   Underwood shared another exercise for finding the center of the sound. With the lower lip slightly away from the teeth, the flutist covered at least ¼ to ⅓ of the embouchure hole. The flutist played a Bb to an A to become familiar with the sound of the half-step. Next, while fingering a Bb, the flutist bent the pitch down to the A, using the airstream only. This exercise was repeated bending the Bb down to an Ab and to a G.

Dynamics
   For dynamics and a better sound, Underwood advised flutists to play loud, but not to blow hard. When flutists blow hard, it closes off the sound. When changing dynamics, the jaw is kept in a neutral position. The lower lip and chin do not jut out.
   A flutist can add more intensity to a note by shifting his weight to the right when standing or sitting. This technique can also be used in playing technically difficult passages with ease. When a flutist’s weight shifts to the right, it releases tension from the left shoulder and hand.
   Underwood also taught the class a technique that William Bennett and Denis Bouriakov employ to produce a loud, vibrant sound with clean articulation. In this technique, the flutists should direct the air slightly toward the right hand. This slight lateral movement in the embouchure also makes low notes more responsive. To demonstrate this technique, Under-wood played a YouTube video of Hubert Laws performing Amazing Grace. Laws clearly directed the airstream slightly to the right to emphasize certain notes. Conversely, direct the air to the left to play softer.
   Keith Underwood’s array of techniques offers many new ideas for flutists to add to their teaching and playing toolboxes.

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Holst’s Two Suites

theinstrumenta — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 02:28:47 +0000

There are several major pieces for concert band that feature folk songs as the main melodic material. Beloved examples of this genre include Ralph Vaughan Williams Folk Song Suite, Percy Grainger’s Lincolnshire Posy, Gordon Jacobs’ William Byrd Suite, and Gustav Holst’s First Suite in Eb and Second Suite in F.

At the beginning of the 20th century, British concert band literature largely consisted of popular music or transcriptions of orchestral music, rendering the concert band something of a second class musical citizen. Gustav Holst’s First Suite in Eb (1909) was one of the first original works for the concert band that helped define the concert band as an important musical medium. Holst wrote the Suite when he was 35 years old. The Second Suite was written two years later in 1911.

The First Suite was not commissioned by any particular group but was written to fit the mold of characteristic sounds of the typical British military band. The instrumentation of military bands was always in flux, because most of the bands were made up of players from local communities.

Neither suite became a part of the standard repertoire of bands, either in England or America, for many years. At first Holst published only a condensed score and set of parts. Because of this, there are some lingering questions regarding instrumentation. The flute part for the First Suite is marked Concert Flute and Piccolo (there is also an ad lib part marked 3rd Concert Flute in default of Eb clarinet in the Boosey & Hawkes Company 1921 edition). It is not indicated exactly where the piccolo is to double throughout the combined part; however, it seems clear that the piccolo should not double every single note that is written in the flute part.

Since Holst was not writing for any particular military band, it is possible he was leaving some instrumentation issues open to the discretion of those performing the work. Because the concert flute/piccolo part is written so that players of both instruments play from the same physical part, I believe this opens the door to various interpretation of the doubling. We might also consider Percy Grainger’s concept of bandistration where different colors and combinations are possible by way of playing or omitting various cues written in the parts. Again, this seems to encourage the idea of changing instrumentation to highlight strengths within a particular group. I can remember being asked to add piccolo at different places in the Holst suites over the years at the request of the conductor.

Frederick Fennell (1914-2004), founder of the Eastman Wind Ensemble, devoted his lifetime to the study, performance, and recording of wind band literature. In 2005 Fennell made a critical edition of the Holst First Suite in Eb and Second Suite in F which were published by Ludwig Masters. This score of the First Suite contains a reprint of an article written by Fennell about the work. The article was first published in The Instrumentalist magazine in 1975. Likewise the score of the Second Suite contains another reprint of an article also published in The Instrumentalist in 1977. Fennell’s artistic ideas on doubling seem to maximize tone color contrasts in the ensemble. In general, he asks the piccolo to play in the same octave as the flute when the overall sound desired is warmer, and in tutti passages, the flutes are doubled at the octave by the piccolo. This doubling adds a sheen to the overall sound of the group. Since folk songs are repetitive by nature, the instrumentation change often happens on a repeat of the melody which adds contrast and makes musical sense.

In the Fennell edition of both suites, a separate piccolo part has been published which clarifies the doubling issues. Fennell’s piccolo doubling choices are listed for each work below:

First Suite

Mvt. 1: (Chaconne) Piccolo plays doubling flute line bar 30-39, then again at bar 41, again in bar 112

Mvt. 2: (Intermezzo) Piccolo enters at pickup to bar 151 thru bar 199, again at bar 241 until 272, doubling flute’s octaves, then plays a small solo at the close of the movement for half a measure.

Mvt. 3: (March) Piccolo doubles the entire length of the movement playing flute line, but plays in the lower octave in two measures which is specified in the part.

Second Suite

Mvt 1: (March) Piccolo doubles flute up to bar 19 (sounding in the same octave from bar 11), in at bar 23 sounding 8va. Bar 35: Piccolo doubles flute octaves through the rest of the work.

Mvt. 2: (Song Without Words, “I’ll Love my Love”) Piccolo doubles flute octave in bar 12-13, from beat four, bar 20, from beat four in bar 24-26 and from beat four in bar 28-30.

Mvt. 3: (Song of the Blacksmith) Piccolo doubles flutes at sounding octave.

Mvt. 4: (Fantasia on the “Dargason”) Piccolo doubles flute octave to bar 57, bar 72-121: same octave as flutes, bar 128-171 doubles flute sounding one octave higher, small solo from 202 to the end.

It seems Holst enjoyed the punctuation mark of a piccolo ending for a couple of the movements, including the half bar solo that ends the Intermezzo movement of the First Suite and the closing of the Second Suite.

When performing this solo, it is important to maintain strict rhythmic integrity and come in exactly on time. The piccolo is involved in a “call and response” pattern with the tuba that should sound humorous due to the register extremes presented. It helps to stress the first quarter notes in the pattern with a bit of vibrato (Note the tenuto stresses on the notes are from the Fennell edition and are not in the original parts. Fennell has also added the word lyrically to indicate the sweet nature of this solo, which is a terrific editorial suggestion).

Keep the articulated ascending staccato scale light and forward moving, taking care to play the duple rhythm in time. If you slow down at the end, this is not the correct musical intention. It is stylistically correct to add a termination on this trill (note that the Fennell version has it marked) and crescendo into the final F. I prefer using the triple tonguing pattern TKT, TKT all the way through the triplets due to the low register. This seems to speak more cleanly than the usual strict alternation of syllables TKT, KTK. I use single tonguing for the duplet.

Frederick Fennell’s ideas about the interpretation of the piccolo doublings are but one solution. As you perform this piece in different ensembles, it might be interesting to keep a diary of each conductor’s decisions.

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Henri Dutilleux

theinstrumenta — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 02:18:40 +0000

In 1972 EMI recording company invited three young soloists, who had been successful in recent competitions, to record a tribute album to Henri Dutilleux. The soloists were Kathleen Chastain, flute; Yves Poucel, oboe; and Jacques Delannoy, piano. The LP was to include Dutilleux’s Sonatine for flute and piano, the Oboe Sonata, and the Piano Sonata, Op. 1. Only the piano sonata had been given an opus number because Dutilleux had not deemed the two woodwind “Morceaux de Concours” worthy of them.

Chastain, who had been my student and later my wife, had graduated from Jean-Pierre Rampal’s Conservatoire class. She was to record the Sonatine. At the recording session she played the Sonatine twice through and the producer decided that it was fine. Everyone was looking forward to a successful LP of these previously unrecorded instrumental works.

Soon after the recording session Kathleen saw Dutilleux at a concert. She told him I was playing the Sonatine in Alice Tully Hall in New York City and she was recording the Sonatine in Paris. Dutilleux, whom Kathleen and I knew quite well, was unaware of the project and became quite upset. He thought he had done a poor job in composing the Oboe Sonata and the flute Sonatine and did not want either piece recorded. Dutilleux was currently working with EMI and Rostro-povitch on a recording of his Cello Concerto, so he called EMI to hold off the pressing of the LP.

Henri Dutilleux is like that. He is a very shy man who is extremely critical of himself, and even more adamant about the quality of his own work. So, to everyone’s disappointment, the record was put on hold. The Sonatine was eventually released much later in a CD called Flute Passion.

January 2012 marked the ninety-sixth birthday of Henri Dutilleux. He was born into an artistic family and raised in Douai, the same city as Gaston Crunelle. Dutilleux always complained that he was a slow worker, which accounts for his relatively small catalog. In addition to a love of painting (his great grandfather was the 19th century painter Constant Dutilleux), he is extremely sensitive to poetry, which explains the titles of many of his works.

He wrote most of his great pieces on commissions, many of them coming from orchestras in the United States. Métaboles (1964) was commissioned by the Cleveland Orchestra (George Szell, Music Director). It explores the transformation of a musical idea in a kind of Enigma Variations format but in a different stylistic context, of course.

Symphony #2 “Le Double” (1959) was commissioned by the Koussevitzky Foundation for the Boston Symphony (Charles Münch, Music Director). This symphony features a concertino group (one player from each section) in dialog with the larger symphony.

His main works for soloist and orchestra are the fruit of commissions by great players. Isaac Stern commissioned L’arbre des songes (The Tree of Dreams) (1985) for violin and symphony orchestra. Jean-Pierre Rampal practically begged Dutilleux to write a piece for flute and orchestra, but unfortunately it never came to fruition. The best commission was by Mstislav Rostropovitch, “Tout un monde lointain…absent, presque défunt” (1970), (A whole world far away… absent almost dead), for cello and large orchestra. I was then a member of the Orchestre de Paris and I have a vivid memory of the premiere. Ah! To be witness to such a great musical moment!

In my opinion, the Sonatine is still one of the best 20th century works for flute, but I perhaps can explain why Dutilleux dislikes the work. One of the perks of the Prix de Rome, which Dutilleux won on the eve of WWII, was to receive commissions for the Morceaux de Concours. The problem with this was that it was restrained by certain formal, age-old traditions. The composition must be approximately 8-10 minutes in length, have a fast movement, a slow one, some détaché, some legato, and a cadenza. The Sonatine had to be composed in a month, in total secrecy, and premiered at the Concours. Henri Dutilleux, the slow writer, was running short of time. That is why he chose to repeat the first cadenza a half-step higher. He told Monsieur Crunelle and me that he disliked this expedient. He said that during the month he always planned to work on the Sonatine, and he never got around to it. The version we have today dates from 1943 and contains a few errors.

There should be a very slight ritard before rehearsal 1, but none before rehearsal 3. In the finale, the scale in the 7th bar after 10 should be meno mosso. Finally, the last notes of the Sonatine, in spite of the written accents, are the culmination of the long final accelerando and should be given rush, not weight. No Brahms Symphony here!

The movement that Henri Dutilleux claims to like and would have reworked is the first one. He was, at 27, still influenced by his artistic and poetic family. He says he had in mind a Cubist painting, where lines and volumes create tension instead of sensual figures.

It is a mistake, in my view, to play the Sonatine like the Poulenc Sonata or even the Sancan Sonatine, with too much color change and rubato.

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Phrasing Study: Barret Melody No. 1

theinstrumenta — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 21:36:13 +0000

Most flutists have a collection of exercise books, including those by Andersen, Altes, Hugues, Furstenau, Soussman, Kohler, Paganini, Karg-Elert, Casterede, Bitsch, and the list goes on and on. In comparison to the flute, the oboe repertoire has fewer offerings. However, one of their most substantial books is Apollon Marie-Rose Barret’s Complete Method for the Oboe, 1862.

Barret (1804-1879) was the solo oboist at Covent Garden for 45 years and oboe professor at the Royal Academy of Music in London. He wrote this method to teach his students and to demonstrate the mechanical improvements he had made in the design of the oboe. About a quarter of the way through the 219-page method is a set of Forty Progressive Melodies. Every oboist spends practice time with these melodies; they are some of the best pedagogical melodies ever conceived. Flutists will also learn from studying these melodies.

* * *

In the preface pages Barret writes, “The nuances or shades of expression give variety to music. In going from a pianissimo to a forte, and vice versa, an intermediate nuance is necessary to avoid an abrupt transition.” This intermediate nuance is illustrated below by the crescendo/diminuendo hairpin marks.
written

played

Barret suggests that it is a general rule to increase the tone in ascending passages and decrease it in descending passages. Barret presents several other musical examples demonstrating this idea. However, what becomes apparent to the modern reader is that Barret, and perhaps other composers of the period, uses the crescendo/diminuendo hairpin marks to illustrate the energy of the air stream to shape the contour of the musical line rather than a large crescendo followed by a diminuendo. He refers to this concept as giving nuance to the music.

Since Barret occupied a prominent position in the performance and teaching world in London, I have wondered if this concept of using the hairpins to illustrate the air speed was well-known by other wind players and composers. Thinking it was probably so, I began to experiment with this idea in other works written from the 1820s through the early 20th century. I found this concept worked exceptionally well in most cases.

Melody number 1 is in the key of C major and in rounded binary form. By definition, the rounded binary form is a musical form in two related sections. Each section is repeated. The form was popular in the Baroque period but was also used in short, one-movement works such as in this melody. The first section (A) begins in the key of C major and modulates in measure 8 to the dominant or the key of G major. The second section (B) continues the character of the first section for eight measures followed with the return of the first section (A) for the concluding eight measures. Rounded binary is labeled as A B A’. Breath marks outline each phrase.

Two Notes under a Slur

A basic phrasing rule that works well in almost every instance is: “When playing two notes under a slur, the second note is played softer than the first, as in strong on the first note and weak on the second note. To explore this basic rule of phrasing, play measures 2, 4, 5, 6, 10, 12, 14, 15, 16, 18, 20, 22, and 24, with the first note louder than the second note.

Contour

Find the melodic contour of each phrase by drawing a line from one note head to the next, as if completing a child’s dot-to-dot puzzle. There are five basic melodic contour shapes: mountain, valley, going up, coming down, and gruppetto. The first four phrases (measures 1-6) are mountain-shaped phrases. The highest note in a mountain-shaped phrase is colored. You may add color by playing the note louder, softer, longer, or with faster vibrato. In the first phrase the G5 is highest note in the phrase. In the second phrase, the G5 is also the highest note, but in this case it is better to emphasize the F5 in the next measure because the F5 is on the first beat (a strong beat) and the G5 is on the fourth beat (a weak beat). The strength of the beat rule is always considered first.

Measures five and six are sequential phrases in that they present the same melodic contour and rhythmic structure only on different scale degrees. Play the first one with the crescendo to the F5 and the second one with the crescendo to the A5. Play the second phrase more loudly than the first because the A5 is higher than the F5.

The last phrase of the A section includes bars seven and eight. Phrase the pick-up G5 and the next three beats as one unit and beat four into the final G5 as another unit. These two grouplets are shaped in a coming down melodic contour format.

The interval connecting these two grouplets is a major sixth (D5 to B6). William Kincaid, the legendary Philadelphia Orchestra principal flutist, suggested lengthening the note before a skip of a perfect 4th or more. James Caldwell, who played principal next to Kincaid and later became the oboe professor at Oberlin Conservatory, suggested “imagine playing all the notes between the D5 to the B5” rather like a string player would slide from the lower note to the upper note. Joseph Mariano, former flute professor at the Eastman School of Music, took both Kincaid’s and Caldwell’s ideas and added “increase the vibrato speed on the end of the note before the slur.” Whatever you decide to do, you can be assured that many before you have thought long and creatively about playing wide intervals.

One Phrase vs. Another Phrase

The A section has five phrases. On a scale from 1 to 5, decide on the level of loudness for the top note of the phrase in relation to the top note in another phrase. One possible scheme could be: phrase 1, level 3; phrase 2, level 4; phrase 3, level 2; phrase 4, level 4; phrase 6, level 3 and phrase 7, level 4.There is no correct solution, so most musicians experiment and try several ideas. Record yourself to help decide which version sounds logical for the listener.

Pick-Up Notes

Phrases three and four begin with pick-up notes. Generally, pick-up notes are softer than the note that follows on the strong beat and are lifted into the next note. There is an articulatory silence between the pick-up note and the landing note. Articulate with a clean attack (thi, thi).

The B Section

The eight measures of the B section contain four, two-bar phrases (Measures 9-10, 11-12, 13-14 and 15-16). Measures 9-10 and 11-12 are in sequence. Play measures 9-10 at a level 3 and measures 11-12 at a level 2; remember to shape the contour of the individual phrase. The dynamic hairpin is to show air speed. Since measures 13-14 and 15-16 are identical, employ the echo rule on measures 15-16. Play measures 13-14 at a level 4 and measures 15-16 at a level 1. The grace notes are acciaccaturras and are played before the beat but as close to the beat as possible.

The A’ Section

Measures 17-20 are a repeat of the opening A section with a slight rhythmic change in measure 19. The gruppetto (group of notes in Italian) or turn (G5F5E5F5) is played on the upbeat of the third beat in the measure. The third beat and the gruppetto notes are slurred together.

The C6 in measure 21 is the highest note in the piece and also the one marked with the loudest dynamic (forte). The C6 is played at a level 5. Remember to follow the rule about playing pick-up notes on the C5 to the C6. The two F sharps in measure 21 should be separated so the listener hears two separate notes. Notice Barret has marked a small diminuendo on the first F sharp. He is reminding the player of the rule to decay (diminish) to the dot or tie.

T he rhythm in measure 22 is a syncopated rhythm. To enhance this add a slight separation between the first and second beats in the measure. In measure 23, follow the rule that notes of shorter note value lead to a note of a longer value (E5F5 to C5). The fourth beat in measure 23 is a pick-up into the final measure (lift, strong, weak).

Repetition

Once you can play this melody with the above directions, begin to work on melodic control. Can you play this melody the same way five times in a row? Ten times? It is a valuable asset to have control of your phrasing and execution of the notes when you perform excerpts for an orchestral audition setting. Remember Adam Kuenzel, principal flutist of the Minnesota Orchestra once said, “To win an audition you must be able to play perfectly for ten minutes.” (Flute Talk, January 2012). This is a good opportunity to practice to be perfect. Once you can execute this melody well as written, repeat the exercise at the octave.

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Bass Flute for Beginners

theinstrumenta — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 21:14:27 +0000

The size, curve, and weight of the bass flute present special challenges for flute players. The following tips will help flutists get started with the instrument, including how to adjust the curve, tune, avoid arm fatigue, and keep the instrument stable during performances. With so many new basses and products coming on the market, there have never been so many choices and helpful tools.

Set the Curve

The first step is to learn how to adjust the curve of the instrument so it is comfortable to hold. Begin with the head joint lined up directly over the keys as shown below.

The strips of blue tape mark reference points where the headjoint goes into the curve. You will make two adjustments, one where the curve goes into the body of the flute and one where the headjoint goes into the curve. (The second set of blue tape strips is not visible because they are directly behind the headjoint.)

With the headjoint lined up over the keys, the picture above shows the starting position of the curve where it goes into the body. This is the second set of tape and marks not visible in the first picture.

The first adjustment to make is to rotate the curve in towards you at the point where it goes into the body. The next picture shows the new position. I rotate the curve 9/16ths of an inch – about the width of your index finger.

The second adjustment rotates the headjoint. Without moving the curved section, rotate the headjoint away from you about 5/16ths of an inch – about the width of the fingernail on your little finger.

The following picture shows the results of both rotations.

With the headjoint now in position, put the bass against your chin as if you were going to play. Check to see if you can lift all fingers away from the flute and have the flute remain stable. To play the flute well, the fingers and thumbs should only be used for closing and opening the keys, not for keeping the flute stable. If the flute wants to roll away from you, increase the distance (perhaps 11/16ths) that you move the curved part where it goes into the body. If the flute wants to fall down your chin, decrease the amount you move the curved section, maybe to 7/16ths. It will take some trial and error to find the best position. I have made a YouTube video that shows this whole process at

Notice the angle of the curve in relationship to the rest of the flute. The goal is to adjust the curve and the headjoint so the flute balances easily and the fingers are free to move.

The Left Hand Crutch

Many basses come with a left hand crutch that helps stabilize the instrument. The crutch is a mixed blessing as many do not fit all hand sizes. Manufacturers are beginning to offer crutches of different sizes and shapes. Other basses are designed to be played without crutches.

Tuning

To tune the instrument, play A5. This is preferable to tuning the A6 because bass flute parts are usually written in the lower octave, and the lowest is the least adjustable octave as far as the lips and alternate fingerings are concerned. Also, determine what key you are in and use the first note of that scale as a second pitch check. The pitch of the first note of the scale is just as important as the tuning A.

Pull out where the head joint goes into the curve. Usually, an instrument is pulled out about the width of the little finger for the standard tuning of A-440. I have found this preferable to pulling out where the curve goes into the body. Adjusting where the curve goes into the body actually moves your arms slightly farther away from the torso and will affect the intonation in the third octave. You can pull out a little at both locations, but the intonation is no better than just pulling out the headjoint. Why make two adjustments when you only need to make one?

Right Arm Fatigue

Many flutists experience pain in the right arm from holding the heavy flute up during rehearsals. There are several new products on the market that assist the player in holding the flute in playing position. (See my YouTube video for an example.) You can also use a solid black music stand. Flip the music rack part of a stand upside down so the place where the music usually sits is on the top. Place a thick cloth or towel on the stand and rest the end of the flute on the cloth. The support is not very flexible, but it does help. It can adjust to a standing height as well as sitting. This setup unfortunately does not look good in a performance situation, but it is primarily in rehearsals that the arm becomes so fatigued.

Tight Tenons

Frequently the connection between the curve and flute body is tight and difficult to adjust. Get an alcohol swab, or put rubbing alcohol on some facial tissue, and wipe both parts of the connection thoroughly. The alcohol removes any dirt or oily residue that might have collected and should solve the problem. Keep the alcohol away from the pads as it will dry them out.

If the connection is still a little tight, rub some pencil lead on the connection. Pencils use graphite, a dry lubricant used on sticky locks. The graphite will add some sliding capabilities. If it is still too tight, find a repairperson who can squeeze the tenon down a little. You may have to send the flute back to the factory to get this accomplished.

Slippery Flute

Because the bass flute is so heavy and the tube so wide, the bass seems especially vulnerable to slipping with perspiration during a performance. There are several products on the market that may be used on the embouchure plate or on the body to minimize slipping. Another option is a postage stamp cut to a half-moon shape and placed on the backside of the embouchure plate (the side that is in the chin).

With the increasing popularity of flute choirs throughout the United States, more and more flutists are purchasing and performing on the big flutes. While there are many similarities to playing the C flute, the size and weight of alto and bass flutes require flutists to experiment with the physical aspects of aligning and balancing the instrument in the hands. These tips offer a starting place, but because everyone is a different size, the best solution will be what you discover for yourself.

The post Bass Flute for Beginners appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

Finding the Perfect Practice Space

theinstrumenta — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 20:59:17 +0000

In conversations over the years with others, I have discovered that I am a bit unusual when it comes to my practice space. I do not like to practice around listening ears. Not so with performing, which I eagerly live to do, and I have no problem rehearsing in public. However, the solo work of dismantling and rebuilding with constant repetition that is my practice method seems an intensely private affair to me, and I marvel at those who can unselfconsciously practice no matter the proximity of any other hearers. This struggle has led me to find special places in which to practice.

Of course, I have often been forced to practice in places where others can hear, such as hotel rooms, or in our small Italian village where the entire town can hear the flute wafting through the narrow streets. They don’t mind hearing me practice, but I do. To avoid being heard, I trek off into the mountains that surround the town, and practice freely at an ancient, forgotten hermitage. My wish to spare others hearing me practice is more than mere politeness. I simply do not work as effectively when I know I am being heard; I lack the impetus to experiment, which is an essential part of the training process. Instead I simply play through pieces of music for the unseen listeners, and it becomes a day off from real work.

I suspect my problem toward public practicing came about shortly after starting the flute at age ten. I had studied the piano for three years and loved that my teacher was my grandmother who lived just over the hill from our Montana house, but I disliked that I had to practice publicly because of the location of the piano. You could not carry it out to the woods or to another room. Though our piano was down in the basement, it was still heard by the entire household, and I found myself always aware of this fact and felt less free to try new things. More than that, this public practice inevitably invited parental comments and suggestions, which were never received as willingly as offered. I discovered that I needed to be free of being critiqued while practicing, whether internal or external, real or imagined. Practicing in its fullest means keen analyzing, not the stifling critic.

The day finally arrived in 5th grade when I got that beautiful flute in my hands. I was adamant that I would find a place where I could learn to play without being heard. It turned out that the only place I could find was in my bedroom closet. An entire wall of my bedroom was closet space with four large metal bi-fold doors. The depth of the closet was only about 2.5 feet, but there was plenty of length to establish a private work area. I have the happiest memories of this space; it was perfect with a chair that allowed me to sit facing the sliding doors, flute lengthwise in the space. I put in a light, books, and everything I might want while practicing. Best of all, the closet muffled the sound, and I was free to work without outside observation. It did tend to get a bit hot in there, and I periodically had to open the door for fresh oxygen, but it was a superb place to practice, where I could diligently work in solitude.

When everyone in the house happened to be gone, my favorite place to practice was right in the middle of our living room, looking out an enormous picture window at the stunning Montana mountain range. I also thoroughly enjoyed hiking to the top of a ridge behind the house and from this great height playing music into the vastness of mountains and sky, as far as the eye could see. I believe it is just such experiences that teach us musical depth.

When I went off to the university, I had a perfect practice room on the top floor of a large building. In a previous incarnation it had been a woman’s dormitory but was now converted for use as ideal practice rooms. The rooms had high ceilings, most had upright pianos and some included carpet remnants – and all produced varied acoustics.

It was here that I learned how vital it was to have a practice space with helpful acoustics. A slightly reverberant space is always inspirational, as opposed to my previous heavy-carpeted and cloth-filled closet acoustic. In this new practice building, I took advantage of the variety of rooms. Sometimes I would go to a very live, reverberant room to see if a fast-tongued piece was still clear in all the swim of sound. Other times I would go to the driest room possible, to see if I could still make the slow melodies sing. I had a private room in this building with its own key, where I could keep a tape recorder, metronome, and lots of sheet music. For added inspiration, I hung pictures of Mikhail Baryshnikov dancing to remind me of the way I wanted to play the flute. A Carnegie Hall poster with the view from the stage out to the audience reminded me where I wanted to go. The room had a little carpet, a mirror I found somewhere else in the building, and a nice southwestern blanket on the ceiling to make the acoustics better. It was my permanent practice space all five years of university.

Since this building was only for fellow practicers, I did not consider it public practicing. It felt private. It also helped that I was on the outside wall, top floor, farthest from all other rooms, and I came to practice every day at 7 a.m. The only other person that had that same hour of practice was a clarinet player, who evidently had the same need for privacy.

One year I worked part-time to continue putting myself through school and adopted a crazy practice schedule. I came in the dark from 2 a.m. to 7 a.m., and finished up by swimming laps at the school pool. I headed home to go to bed when everyone else was just getting started with their day. For those 2 a.m. practices, I played in an internal room, so the fraternity house next door would not hear me. I also never turned on the lights, so I became good at memorization and inventing exercises that did not require reading music.

I was the only one in this large, old, three-floor building, and I often heard creaking noises down the halls when I stopped playing. This always scared me into a cold sweat, so I learned to keep playing with as few breaks as possible, until daylight began to dawn. It worked, and no ghost ever opened my practice room door!

After university I faced new practice challenges during tours around the world. Little time is available for real practice on the road, so I have learned to be satisfied with stage rear, green rooms, bathrooms, and stairwells. When I was back home, I found a variety of practice spaces: a high-ceilinged, heated tack room located in a beautiful old barn; early mornings in a boathouse on a misty pond; a room in the maids quarters of an old New England house; a perfect cabin that had no electricity or plumbing (but had a wood stove); and finally, a stunning country church that I had all to myself except for Sunday mornings. This church was an ideal practice space, with its live acoustics and large size that taught me how to really play out. I still practice in this church whenever I am in New England. I realized again that these varied practice spaces taught me as much as the work itself.

From this church practice domain, I moved to Michigan where my husband built me my own practice building. (See picture at top) It looked like a smaller version of the church I had just left, with plenty of windows and wonderful acoustics. It was perched out in a meadow teaming with wild-life and blueberry bushes. I enjoyed that place for eight years, until moving again two years ago. I am happy to say that the place where we now reside has an authentic 1878 one-room schoolhouse, moved to the property years before our time (below). This is the wonderful practice space in which I now thrive. I love the daily reminder of its purpose; it was a place for learning long before I was ever born.

To enter a separate space that is designated solely as a work space is an inestimable gift that allows me to keep focused on the work. There are far too many distractions when I play at home. The phone rings, laundry beckons, company visits, and there is always another chore to do rather than practicing. When I come to my schoolhouse each day, I dress up for work, including performance shoes. This is how I train for what I do, and it helps me focus better on the tasks at hand.

I encourage everyone to find a special place that is free from distractions, where you can start simply with just your flute and some music. Don’t be afraid to ask a local church if you can practice there. Another option is a small concert hall, stage, or high school auditorium during the times of day when it is not in use. I have found that the world is full of conducive work spaces; each one offering different lessons for you to expand your playing abilities and musicality. May you find your perfect space, and thoroughly enjoy the journey while searching for it.

The post Finding the Perfect Practice Space appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

An Interview with Jasmine Choi

theinstrumenta — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 20:36:53 +0000

In December 2011 flutist Jasmine Choi was named Proud Citizen of the Year in her home town of Daejon, Korea. This talented musician came to the United States and entered the Curtis Institute of Music at the age of 16 on a full-scholarship. There she studied with the legendary Julius Baker who called her “a huge sensation.” She studied with him for four years until his death in 2003. Currently Choi is associate principal flute with the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, a position she won at the age of 22.

She holds a bachelor’s degree from Curtis and a master’s degree from the Juilliard School where she studied with Jeffrey Khaner. Upon her graduation, she worked with Thomas Robertello. In addition to her orchestral position, Choi performs as a soloist both in the United States and around the world.

When did you become interested in music?

In the third grade at my school, all students learned the recorder. I was given an assignment to play a song for the music class and became obsessed with the recorder. Playing the recorder was fun. It wasn’t like practicing the violin which I had begun to study with my mother. I played night and day. My parents worried about my disturbing the neighbors and told me that ghosts would haunt me if I continued to play the recorder all the time.

I learned the tune for the class and then continued playing by ear. My repertoire included children’s tunes, cartoon music, and violin repertoire I had heard my mother playing and teaching. My frustration was that I had only learned a single octave of notes on the recorder, and wanted more to play the music I heard in my head. There was a girl who was about three years older and lived a floor higher in our apartment building. I could hear her playing the flute and thought maybe I should try it because it seemed like the flute had more notes than the recorder.

At my Catholic elementary school each child chose an instrument, so I selected the flute. Each day 20 minutes was spent in orchestra, band, or private lessons, six days a week. I enjoyed playing the flute so much more than the violin because my mother did not know much about the flute and was in awe of my accomplishments. When I played the violin, she was always correcting me. I progressed rapidly and knew that the flute was my passion in life. I performed the Haydn D Major Concerto for my first solo appearance with orchestra about this time.

I practiced all the time and progressed faster than my classmates. I was worried about what music studies would be like in middle school and decided to audition for an Arts Middle School in Seoul, which was two hours away from Daejon. I was accepted into the program but was only 12 years old. My family arranged for me to stay with a cousin, whom I had never met. She was single, in her late 20s, and a workaholic. The business culture in Korea is such that after work you go out with colleagues until late in the evening, so I was left alone most of the time.

What was it like to be on your own at the age of 12?

I was lonely and homesick and couldn’t eat. My diet consisted of bread and orange juice, and I practiced day and night. It was a difficult time. Unlike most Asian parents, when my parents called, they told me to stop practicing and go to bed. However, when I practiced, I forgot how lonely I was. I told myself that I had come all this way to study flute, so I had better work harder than the other students and do really well.

As I approached high school, I realized that the curriculum at the next school was not going to change. It would continue to be the same as middle school: a jury piece, a recital selection, and the same competitions. I felt trapped in a little world. I decided I would go study in America.

My parents had been opposed to my studying in Seoul and now again did not want me to go to America. However, they eventually arranged for me to stay with some distant relatives in Staten Island, New York, so off I went. I ended up in a private school that had few Asian students and no music program. I continued to practice and tried to figure out what I should do. About half-way through the year, I learned about the program at Curtis. The admissions materials said you did not have to be a high school graduate to enter the program, but there was only one opening per year. I had to win that place for the next year.

I practiced day and night, auditioned, and was accepted into the class of Julius Baker and Jeffery Khaner. I was 16 years old. Curtis had an arrangement with a Philadelphia high school so I could earn my high school diploma while beginning the program at Curtis. What was even better was that the administration said I could live on my own.

What were lessons like with Julius Baker?

The first few months I practiced non-stop because I worried the school had made a mistake in admitting me. Baker gave me freedom and made me find my own voice. His assignments were demanding. For example, he often had me learn a new piece each week complete with accompaniment. I had so many questions. In my lesson I would play a phrase four different ways and ask him which he liked best. He told me all were very nice, but it was important for me to pick what I liked. He often said, “the best teacher is yourself.” He encouraged me so much and was like a nice grandfather. The worst comment he ever made to me was “not bad,” but mostly he would say “amazing” or “you made my day.” I began to judge my playing by the level of his compliments. Sometimes he would call at 6 a.m. and say “how wonderful you played yesterday.” I would let the voice mail take the message and call him back later in the morning. He would ask, “where were you.” “Sleeping, I would reply.”

Baker came to Philadelphia each Wednesday afternoon. He taught two students on Wednesday afternoon and two on Thursday morning. My lesson was always 8 a.m. on Thursday mornings, but he wanted me to join him for breakfast at 7. As I rushed to meet him at the restaurant, storekeepers would yell, “Mr. Baker was just asking where you were.” Everyone in the area around Curtis knew who the faculty was. I would look at my watch noting that I still had time to spare to make the 7 a.m. breakfast. In all those years, I was never late.

What else did you learn there?

Otto-Werner Muller was the conductor of the Curtis Orchestra and the conducting professor. Once a week conducting students worked with the lab orchestra under his guidance. Much of the repertoire was repeated from year to year such as all the symphonies of Beethoven and Brahms. By the time I graduated, I had played these works many times. If you paid attention, you knew how to apply Muller’s concepts when performing them.

We also got to work with some of the biggest names in the orchestral conducting world. Whoever was in town conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra also worked with the Curtis students on the same repertoire the Philadelphia Orchestra was performing. The schedule was the same each week: Monday: Wind class with Richard Woodhams, the oboe professor; Thursday: Complete orchestra rehearsal with the staff conductor; Saturday morning: Perform the repertoire for Curtis patrons and donors with the guest conductor; and Saturday evening: Attend the Philadelphia Orchestra concert performing the repertoire we had studied during the week. We were given free tickets to the concerts each week.

Chamber music was also an excellent experience. Everyone was so eager to play. You selected the piece you wanted to perform, assembled a group, and requested a coach. If the coach agreed, he or she met with you weekly until the performance. Imagine coaching with Jennifer Higdon, Gary Graffman, Michael Tree, or Stephen Tenenbom among others.

At Curtis there are no juries, only student recitals. You could perform as little or as much as you wished. No one pushes you, it is your choice. Each and every recital performance was recorded and placed in the Curtis archives. This meant you could listen to famous musicians when they had been students at Curtis, but this also meant that future students could listen to you. This placed a lot of responsibility on you to produce your best work.

What repertoire did you study at Curtis?

The first year I studied works by Prokofiev, Reinecke, Ibert, Nielsen, Jolivet, Feld, Dubois, Sancan and similar pieces. The second year I completed most of the works of the standard flute repertoire, and the third year I began making transcriptions of works from the violin repertoire. These included the Franck Sonata, Dvorak Sonatina, Mendelssohn Concerto and Tchaikovsky Concerto.

With Mr. Khaner, I explored different etudes including those by Paganini, Bozza, Casterede, Bitsch, Chopin/Moyse, Andersen, and Karg-Elert. One mistake in playing them, and it was back to the top. It is interesting that I was Baker’s last student at Curtis and Khaner’s first at Juilliard. I learned a tremendous amount from Mr. Khaner both at Curtis and Juilliard. He really made me become the musician I am now. I still play for him these days, and, I still call him Mr. Khaner.

Have you ever had an injury?

One fall semester at Curtis my right hand began bothering me. Curtis arranged for me to see around 20 different doctors. One thought I had focal dystonia; another thought something else. I did not play for an entire semester. At Christmas I went home to Korea. I rested and ate good food. When I came back for the spring term, I could play again. I am not sure what happened, but I am extremely thankful that whatever it was cured itself.

What was your audition like for the position in Cincinnati?
I had just graduated from Juilliard and was looking forward to beginning a career as a free-lancer in New York City. The audition was a few days after the end of the term in which I had learned the 47 excerpts for the final jury. I flew to Cincinnati, not even sure where it was.

I played the first round and was not nervous at all. Then I was asked to play the next round and the next. In a strange way I was afraid I was going to win. At the end when there were just two of us left, I assumed they would call my friend’s name, but they called mine. I was shocked and just said, “ok, thank you.” When each member of the jury came up to congratulate me, I was still so shocked that I showed no expression on my face. Several asked if I was happy. After I returned to New York, it took me a week to tell anyone that I had won the audition. The position was for one year, and about half-way through the year, they advertised the job again. By this time I knew how fortunate I was to have this position and loved everything about it. I wanted to win the audition again so I practiced and practiced. In Cincinnati the screen stays up through the final rounds. When it finally came down, and my colleagues saw I had won, we were all overjoyed.

I won the position when I was 22 and have been playing there for the past six years. I love my job and my colleagues. Randy Bowman is the principal flute, and I am so lucky to work with him. I am also pleased to be the first Korean woodwind player to hold a post with a major orchestra in the United States. Randy and I share each masterwork concert. If there are more flute parts than usual, I may play piccolo or alto flute. Recently I played alto flute on Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and Ravel’s Daphnis and Chloe.

What are some recordings you have made?

When I was a student at Curtis, I attended a music festival in Japan. While there I played the Mozart Flute and Harp Concerto with Xavier de Maistre, former principal harpist of the Vienna Philharmonic. In 2006 I was going to record the Mozart D major Concerto as well as the Flute and Harp Concerto. My manager asked Xavier if he would record with me and he agreed. The recording turned out quite well. My second recording Fantasy is now out on iTunes and Amazon. I recently recorded Claude Bolling’s Suite for Flute and Jazz Trio and Gary Schocker’s Winter Jasmine. Schocker wrote this piece for me. The recording will be released in the summer of 2012.

What upcoming solo performances do you have planned?

The Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra is a 52-week orchestra; however we have 10 paid vacation weeks a year. During this time, I play recitals and concertos and make recordings. I will play the Uriel Vanchestein Concerto for Flute and Clarinet (world premier) and my transcription of the Saint-Saens Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso with the New York Classical Players on February 4th in New Jersey and February 5th in New York. () In August I will attend my first N.F.A. Convention where I will play a solo recital and share a recital with Thomas Robertello.

What do you practice?

I practice the basics. I might warm-up on something like the Bach Partita or one of the Paganini etudes and then work on fundamentals. Sometimes my practice is all about one note. I do scales from the Taffanel & Gaubert and also play some of my favorite tunes. I rest every hour, often going outside to get some fresh air and to have a coffee.

Do your neighbors ever complain about your practicing?

The first year I moved into this apartment building my neighbors loved to hear me practice. They thought it was interesting that I played in the symphony and would often attend concerts. Then some new people moved in. The first day they were there, they slipped a note under the door that said, “Whatever you are playing, (Is it a flute? a clarinet?), it needs to stop.” The note continued, “You should keep playing though, because you may have some talent.” I try to practice when they aren’t home. If I have a lot to do, then I go to my church and practice.

Finding a suitable place to practice has always been a challenge. When I was at Curtis, I practiced in a walk-in closet and while studying at Juilliard in the late evenings I used an empty kid’s playroom in the lobby of my apartment building. When you really want to do something, you somehow always find a way to do it.

Do you have advice for students?

Playing the flute is not a “you-just-play-way-better-when-you-wake-up-next-day” sort of thing. It is such a long, ongoing process that truly takes a lot of time and patience. It is always so exciting and fun when you start anything new, but I think only people who have a true passion and sincere love for the flute can keep going without feeling exhausted or in despair. It is so important to remember how much you love playing. Just be patient and keep focusing on the joy of playing. As long as you love doing it, good things will come to you sooner or later. What a blessing it is to do what we love every day.

* * *

Advice for Orchestral Playing

Orchestral playing presents many musical challenges: solo moments, chamber music sections, and tutti sections where the entire orchestra plays. A good orchestral player is able to shift back and forth automatically as the demands of the piece change. I have learned tremendously since I joined the Cincinnati Symphony in 2006 and am still learning and improving at every rehearsal and every concert. As you work on orchestral works or the list of excerpts on page 11, consider the following ideas.

1. Know the score inside out.

Remember the flute part is just a tiny portion of a gigantic artwork. You should know the full score as if you were going to conduct the orchestra. This means you know who is accompanying your solo and know what is happening when you are not playing at all.

2. Work on the details.

Being able to control the details is what distinguishes a good player from a great player. Some elements to consider are tone, articulation, phrasing, technique, breath control, rhythm, intonation, vibrato, tempo, and posture.

3. Be flexible.

Playing in an orchestra means playing together. You might be asked to play a passage differently at any given moment. Try to prepare with different tempos, phrasings, and interpretations. It is also important to listen to more than one recording of

a piece.

4. Express who you are and be yourself.

Don’t be afraid to show your personality and your own color. There is no right or wrong answer, which is what makes music so charming. In the end, just go on stage and enjoy playing.

Choi’s Excerpt List

While at Juilliard, I studied orchestral excerpts. I think for one jury I learned something like 47 excerpts. The following are some that students would do better to learn now than later.

Bach: St. Matthew Passion, Soprano Aria, No. 58 “Aus Liebe will mein Heiland sterben”

Bartok: Concerto for Orchestra

Beethoven: Symphonies No. 3, 4, and 7, and Leonore Overture No. 3

Brahms: Symphonies No. 1 and 4, Variations on a Theme by Haydn, Op. 56A

Debussy: Prelude a l’apres-midi d’un faune

Dvorak: Symphonies No. 7, 8, and 9

Hindemith: Symphonic Metamorphosis

Mahler: Symphony No. 9, Das Lied von der Erde

Mendelssohn: Symphony No. 4, Incidental Music to A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Mozart: The Magic Flute

Prokofiev: Classical Symphony, Symphony No. 5, Peter and the Wolf

Ravel: Daphnis et Chloe, Bolero

Rossini: William Tell Overture

Saint-Saens: Carnival of the Animals

Strauss: Salome, Dance of the Seven Veils; Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks, Op. 28, Der Rosenkavalier, Op. 59; Sinfonia Domestica, Op. 53

Stravinsky: Firebird Suite, Petrouchka, Chant du Rossignol

Schumann: Symphony No. 4

Smetana: Overture to Bartered Bride

Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 4, Sleeping Beauty Ballet

Jeffrey Khaner’s Exercise for Tone, Vibrato, and Breath Control

This is a very helpful exercise that Jeffrey Khaner taught me. Using the following music example, try the steps below.

Instructions:

1. Start with the metronome set at 60 to the beat. As your skills improve, lower the setting to 59, 58, etc.

2. Continue the chromatic half-step pattern descending to low C. Repeat ascending to high C.

3. Play it forte the first time, and piano the second time.

4. Place four (five, six) vibrato cycles on each beat.

5. The length of the fermata should be for as long as you can play the note. When you begin this exercise, the fermata may be 12 counts; build it up eventually to 16, 20, 24, etc.

6. When you think you need to breathe, play for five counts more.

7. Relax and breathe between each set of two notes.

Jeffrey Khaner is principal flute of the Philadelphia Orchestra and the Flute Professor at the Curtis Institute and the Juilliard School of Music.

The post An Interview with Jasmine Choi appeared first on The Instrumentalist.