February 2020 Archives - The Instrumentalist

Practice Motivation

theinstrumenta — Sun, 16 Feb 2020 00:44:36 +0000

Question: Some days I don’t want to practice. Do you have any suggestions to motivate me?

Answer: Struggling to maintain the motivation to practice is a problem that most flutists encounter at some point. Just asking this question shows that you are on the path to overcoming this obstacle.

Identify Why
First, ask yourself why you do not want to practice as there may be a simple, easy solution. Understanding why you wish to skip a practice session could mean the difference between taking a necessary day off or starting down the slippery slope of developing a bad habit. Dealing with the issue quickly might lead you back to a readiness to practice. For instance, if you are hungry, grab a healthy snack or evaluate your nutritional habits. If you are tired, take a nap or make sure you are sleeping enough. If you are feeling overwhelmed, create a to-do list, or explore the possibility that you may be overcommitted and should evaluate priorities. Sometimes not having an impending concert or audition takes the momentum out of practice routines. So, plan a recital or recording project to create some new excitement.
My practice time is a sanctuary where I hope to refine my best musical efforts. If boredom creeps in, I typically rally against it by changing my routine, finding a new inspiring practice environment, or even throwing in a bit of pre-practice workout, cardio, or yoga to energize my mind and body. I also jumpstart my routine by shopping for new repertoire, listening to recordings, or attending live concerts.

Practice Anyway
Sometimes there may not be a clear-cut reason why you do not want to practice. Some days it may be necessary to show up and just practice anyway. While you may not feel like practicing, you can choose action over feeling, especially when there is an impending concert or audition. I remind myself that while I have thoughts and emotions, I am not defined by them. Stay on schedule, press forward through the resistance, and know that it will be worthwhile in the end. My high school band directors, James and Sheila Sammons, taught me that the best excuse does not get the job done. These words have carried me through much of my professional career, especially when other musicians and audience members are counting on me to know my part.
Often initial inertia is the largest barrier. Consider slowly luring yourself back into the practice room by starting with music you love to rekindle your passion for creating music. I often negotiate with myself. For example, if I need to play for one hour, I will convince myself that thirty minutes of maintenance practice will suffice. Convincing yourself to start may become a powerful catalyst that increases motivation. Once I begin practicing, ideas start flowing, a momentum is established, and I frequently do not want to stop.
If you are not able to intrinsically motivate yourself, find a partner or two for encouragement, or join the #100daysofpractice trend on social media. Rely on group momentum to propel yourself forward on days you do not think you can do it on your own.

Get Funky
Perhaps your routine may simply need a makeover? Purposely add some spice into your routine by changing things up. Practice a melody backwards or section it off backwards. Practice vibrato with only your headjoint, holding a bag over the end to catch the air. Add in some extended techniques like pitch bending, flutter tonguing, harmonics, or singing while playing. Create some tuner or metronome games. Push the boundaries of your own creativity to ensure you are engaged. Sometime I practice for auditions with the television is blaring or while standing on one leg to make sure I can play the music under any circumstances.
Years ago, I saw Rhonda Larson perform an classical flute etude with cricket sounds playing through the sound system. Since then, I have not only added geophonic sounds into my live performances and recordings, but also my practice routine. I practice over the sounds of the ocean and thunderstorms. I add iTable app sounds to underscore my improv practice time so it feels more authentic.
I also have a motivational secret weapon. If I find myself in a funk that I just can’t seem to shake, I revert to my emergency backup plan of laughter. I set a timer for 30-45 seconds and just laugh. This method has never failed me. Laughter holds many cognitive, neurological benefits. To get started, I often gear up by listening to Uncontrollable Laughter from the Broadway musical, Hands on a Hardbody.
Once you have reestablished practice equilibrium, stay in the focus zone by celebrating both large and small accomplishments. My elementary school teachers made lists, charts, and stickers to motivate us, and these tools are equally helpful for both me and my flute students. I track my progress, tempos, and goals to monitor growth. Sometimes it is worth practicing just to check off an item on the chart. Determine what it takes for you to accomplish your flute goals. I have never finished a practice session and wished I had not spent that time with my flute.

Don’t Practice
Consider also that time off from practicing might also have value, especially if you have been putting in extra effort lately. If you officially decide not to practice, use that time to relax, rest, or get stuff done, so when you return to the practice room, you are ready to focus on the flute. When asked how to write a novel Ernest Hemingway once said, “First, you have to defrost the refrigerator.” Time away from the flute may not be wasted, especially if it clears pathways for clarity and better quality practice in the future. You could also spend this time on other essential components of your musical career, like marketing, networking, music theory, researching repertoire, or staying current on readings.
It is also not likely that you are going to be productive if you don’t want to be practicing. I routinely ask myself, what would I like to be doing right now? Then, whenever possible, I go do just that. Many of my most engaging ideas spring from this level of artistic honesty. However, if resistance to flute practice becomes extreme or chronic, it may be time to reevaluate your commitments, and seek other activities to be passionate about. Heart-to-heart conversations with a mentor, teacher or friend can also provide valuable insights for solutions.

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Finding the Sound and Refining Technique

theinstrumenta — Sun, 16 Feb 2020 00:39:04 +0000

Physical exercise such as running and weight training are part of my general routine, and if facilities are available, I recommend swimming. These all help with breathing when playing the flute. A personal trainer is helpful for assessing individual needs and safety issues when working with training equipment.

Before I begin practice in the morning, I recall the playing of my teachers (Harry Houdeshel, Kenton Terry, Louis Rivière, Wolfgang Schulz, Carol Wincenc and Karl F. Kraber) and imagine what it would feel like to create their sounds. Frequently I listen to recordings or broadcasts of players’ whose sounds I admire. I also plan my practice before I start so that I cover everything I will need in my playing for that day. I also build change and new experiences into my daily plan.

Basics
The first thirty minutes of practice are crucial. My aim is to create the most beautiful sound I can as efficiently as possible. I start with Marcel Moyse’s De La Sonorite first few pages or Trevor Wye’s Practice Book 1, pages 18-19 and concentrate on tone formation and the balance between abdominal support, amount of air, flexibility of embouchure shape, and resonance spaces. Thinking of vowel shapes like the German ü or the French û (saying ee, with the lips shaped for oo) during these long tone studies helps me to create a resonance cavity that aids in controlling color. Next, I take a couple of minutes to practice whistle tones to increase abdominal support while still maintaining a relaxed position in my facial muscles.
I also check the relationship of the lower lip and embouchure plate. This position should be firm enough to allow for relaxation of the lips with adequate turnout, which affects intonation and allows fingers to relax. Finding a fluid and relaxed balance that is gentle on the embouchure but dependable, frees flutists to make music. I should note that I find it helpful during the first five to ten minutes of my warmup to take frequent, short pauses to give my body a chance to wake up and adjust. I also check my body alignment in a mirror.
As part of my low-register warmup, I like to play and sing, working downward chromatically from the B natural in the staff, first singing, then playing and finally matching the pitch with my voice. I find this helpful for regulating the amount of air needed to produce a well-controlled sound.
Harmonics are part of my warmup and help with intonation in the upper range. There are many examples online for visual instructions on how to play harmonics on the flute. I recommend Trevor Wye’s Practice Book 4 for a good routine with clear instructions. I make sure to include some flutter-tonguing in my warmup, which I do from the back of the throat as if gargling and not rolling the R’s.
Remember when working on any aspect of warming up that your greatest resource is your ears. Most flutists have a sound in mind that they have heard, either in a live performance or in a recording by a wonderful flutist. Throughout my warmup up, I try to match the tone in my imagination with the tone I am producing.

Technique
Once my tone is flowing freely, the other point of focus involves working for relaxed, smooth finger technique that allows me to move flexibly through phrases and to make music. I use some of the chromatic passages from Paul Edmund Davies’ 28 Days Warmup Book, being sure I cover the full range of the flute while making sure my fingers are working well and evenly. Periodically I check my abdominal support, the amount and speed of the air, and the use of the embouchure to develop and maintain control of the sound. I also continue to look into the mirror to check body alignment and make sure that my finger tips are close to the keys.
To work on the larger intervals, I move on to the arpeggios in Taffanel et Gaubert 17 Big Daily Exercises, No. 10. To work on intonation, it is beneficial to use a tuner drone set on the first note of each measure. Every 10 measures, reset the drone pitch.
If I have little time, I use the Reichert Daily Exercise No. 1 for agility and evenness of fingers in the keys that are the same as the keys in my concert
literature, using the metronome set at quarter note = 60. Playing these more slowly gives me time to really listen to my sound to be sure the notes are uniformly beautiful and homogeneous in color.
On days when I have more time, I play the Taffanel et Gaubert 17 Big Daily Exercise, No. 4 scale routine. With these you may vary the articulation using the patterns suggested by T&G or make up your own. Creating a dynamic plan is also beneficial. I often alternate this with playing two- and three-octave major and minor scales.

Melodic Work
Next, I move on to melodic work, using lyrical passages from repertoire I am playing. With these melodies I strive for lyricism, a beautiful legato, and a ringing, well-made sound.

Tools and Resources
As I achieve the sound I want, I frequently check the tuner to be sure I am in tune. Use of a drone during long- tone practice is helpful for centering the sound. The metronome is essential when working on scalar or chromatic passages and functions. Once again, the ears are the most important factors in a warmup. Recording the warmup offers many advantages because it gives immediate and objective feedback.

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A Performance Checklist for Debussy’s Syrinx

theinstrumenta — Sun, 16 Feb 2020 00:19:40 +0000

Undoubtedly the best-loved flute solo from our present century is Claude Debussy’s Syrinx. This unaccompanied masterpiece was written in 1912 for Gabriel Mourey’s play Psyché, in which Syrinx was used as incidental music for a scene depicting the death of Pan. Debussy’s friend Louis Fleury gave the first performance, and the manuscript remained in his possession until his death in 1925. Syrinx was finally published in 1927 by J. Jobert in Paris.*
Most flutists are aware of the high degree of musicianship and technical control it takes to perform Syrinx. Beautiful tone, careful phrasing, delicate nuances, smooth legato, and fine intonation are all necessary to an artistic performance. But in our eagerness to “interpret” the piece and imbue it with our personal feeling, we often ignore some of the explicit notation of the composer, thereby compromising our performance. The following checklist spotlights some of the more common deviations from the composer’s text.
For those who have already studied Syrinx, I hope this will serve as a stimulus for careful review. On the other hand, if you are preparing the piece for the first time, this checklist should give you some firm guidelines for study, especially in matters of rhythmic control, which is so crucial to a good interpretation. As Austin points out in his analysis (pp. 8-9):

The melody seems like a long cadenza, a rhapsodic improvisation. But not a note of it is random… The rhythm of the melody is as intricate and peculiar and intelligible as its contour.

Measure 1
Don’t rush the 2nd beat. The Ab is too often played as a dotted 16th instead of a dotted 8th.

Don’t play a diminuendo at the end of the bar. You should offset the natural tendency to do so by hinting at a slight crescendo from the En to the Db and across the barline, being careful not to go sharp on the Db or over accent the beginning of bar 2.

Measure 2

Don’t diminish before the 32nds. Otherwise there will be too little diminuendo left for the half-note Bb.

Measure 3
Just as in bar 1, do not rush the second beat.

The natural diminuendo in beat 3 need not be resisted quite so much as in bar 1, so that the crescendo in the first beat of bar 4 will grow out of the sonority of the third bar without sounding forced.

Measure 4

The piano on beat 2 is subito. The end of the preceding crescendo is presumably about a mezzo forte. (Debussy rarely gave explicit dynamic values to ends of short crescendos when followed by a subito piano.)
The breathing comma after the Bn should be deleted if you can play from the beginning of bar 3 to the Bn of bar 5 in one breath. It is highly doubtful that Debussy furnished these printed breath markings, and most of them should be ignored. They were probably inserted by Louis Fleury, to whom the piece was dedicated.
Be sure to play an accurate triplet rhythm in the second half of beat 2 so that there is a recognizable rhythmic contrast to the second half of beat 1.
Keep the crescendo growing to the very end of the bar. The usual tendency is to diminish on the last triplet, thus spoiling the subito piano of bar 5.

Measure 5

In addition to observing the opening subito piano, note that the slur goes across the barline from bar 4.
Don’t begin the first crescendo too soon.
It is tempting to play the second half of beat 1 as a triplet because of the influence of the rising triplet figures in bar 4. Beat 1 must be in rhythm.
Although it has become customary to play the third beat considerably faster than the normal tempo and to shorten the dotted 8th rest in bar 6, this tradition is now getting so out of hand that it is beginning to sound like a parody on František Drdla’s Serenade. As a starting point for a fresh interpretation, try playing it in a more strict tempo.

Measures 6-8

Don’t play the pickup as a 32nd note, and don’t slur into the Cb, but tongue both the Ab and Cb as softly as possible.
Keep the crescendo going gradually through the Cb to the beginning of the Db (to about a mezzo forte). Do not diminish too rapidly going across the barline, so that the final diminuendo of bar 8 has a better chance of being well rationed.
If you play a French model flute, the final diminuendo can be enhanced by using the harmonic fingering for Bb: Finger low Eb, but let the left-hand second finger slightly vent its hole.

Measure 9

Although this sounds like a repetition of the opening theme, be well aware of the three elements that contrast this section from the beginning of the piece: a little faster tempo, one octave lower, and softer. Being one octave lower is an obvious contrast, but in order to take full advantage of the concomitant color change, you should be careful not to play too loudly. Flutists who have just developed a rich, sonorous low register are especially prone to show off their big sound here.
Although the tempo is a little faster, don’t rush the second beat. (My tempo preference for this section is about quarter note = 50, compared to about quarter note = 40 for the beginning.)
On beat 3, don’t raise your right-hand little finger when going from F to En in anticipation of the low Db. This spoils the tuning and quality of the En. Neither is it necessary to slide the little finger if you learn to jump it over to the Db key at the very last moment. The same observation and technique are applicable to bars 16 (beat 1), 18 (beat 1), 29 (beat 3), 30 (beat 3) and 31.

Measures 10-11

The crescendo at the end of bar 10 should follow through across the barline so that the beginning of bar 11 is strong enough (about mp) to permit a recognizable diminuendo on the third beat.
Don’t rush the third beat of bar 10 and the first beat of bar 11. This would destroy the contrasting rhythmic diminution of this passage in bar 12.
Whenever there is a grace note following the first note of a beat, as in bar 11, don’t let it disturb the underlying rhythmic flow. Although the grace note’s value is borrowed from its preceding note, don’t jump in so early that the next note has to be held longer.

Written:

Correctly played

or

Incorrectly played

or

In any case, don’t play the grace note too short. There is ample time to fit it in gracefully.
If possible, avoid the breath in bar 11 and wait until the third beat of bar 12.
While holding the Bb in beat 2 of bar 11, switch your right-hand little finger to the Db key in preparation for a smoother fingering change from Ab to Db in the third beat.

Measure 12

After the crescendo on beat 1, don’t diminish the second and third beats. Otherwise the preparation for the climactic mf of bar 13 will run aground.
The last three notes of the bar are sometimes played so slowly that they sound like normal 16ths rather than triplet 16ths, again spoiling the composer’s carefully planned rhythmic scheme, which is always balancing and contrasting the duple and triple subdivisions.

Measure 13

Two rhythmic pitfalls occur in this bar, the 32nds played too slowly, sounding like 16th triplets; or too fast, sounding like 64ths.
Be sure to keep the mf going through the first two beats (imagine a slight crescendo to offset the natural diminuendo), and don’t let the 32nds sound softer than the 8ths.
Some flutists prefer to slur the whole measure together (as they often erroneously do in bar 1 and elsewhere), but this tends to make the passage sound too glib. A soft, well-coordinated tongue stroke on the second and third beats should not disturb the legato qualities of the phrase.

Measure 14

Another grace note trap occurs in beat 1, the printed version

misplayed as

This is a very common error and has many subsequent chances for reinforcement in bars 15-19 and 31.

Measure 15

The dynamics in this bar are rather puzzling, but from careful study of similar markings in other works of Debussy, my interpretation is that the crescendo at the end of bar 14 leads into an implied mp (or perhaps an mf) on beat 1 of bar 15, which diminishes to the p of beat 2, which in turn diminishes to an implied pp. Thus the pianos on the third beat and the first beat of bar 16 would be subito pianos following the implied pp’s. Of course all of this must be done with great subtlety, without losing track of the tempo, rhythm, or legato flow.
Double check note accuracy, especially in beat 3. Also the Gb grace notes in beats 1 and 2 sometimes become unwitting G naturals because of a careless right-hand third finger that does not want to stay down after the Eb. Don’t play the grace note so fast that you can’t really hear its pitch.

Measures 16-17

After the Cédez (slowing down) of bar 15, we now have a Rubato tempo which lasts until the au Mouvt of bar 26. Bar 16 can be poco accelerando, bar 17 more relaxed, and then bar 18 in tempo. From bar 19 there is a very gradual and steady moving ahead to bar 24 (the interim metronome marking for bar 22 would be about quarter note = 66; for bar 24 about 72). Despite the overall flexibility of this Rubato section, one must not lose sight of the importance of rhythmic proportion. For instance in bar 16, the second and third beats are almost always played too fast, making this bar sound like seven equal (but rushed) 8th notes. It is the same thing in bar 18.
Antidote: Dwell on the low C of beat 2. Then fill out the crescendo nicely. Try to do without the breath at the end of the bar.

Measure 19

This bar begins with a subito piano, so don’t forget to push the previous crescendo right to the barline.
Be sure to start the crescendo of bar 19 somewhat before the third beat. This will give you a smoother change of sonority as you go from the low register to the middle register.

Measure 20

Tie over long enough from bar 19 so that you don’t convert the triplet in beat 1 to duple 16ths.

Measure 21

Compared to bar 20, this has a reverse trap, the first three notes of the second beat often being played as triplet 16ths in imitation of the legitimate triplet just before it. But in avoiding that trap, don’t fall into a worse one by playing the second beat like triplet 8ths.

Measure 22

Don’t get carried away with cadenza fever in this bar – at least not until you are absolutely sure of note accuracy. Check these notes especially: second beat Cbs and Ebbs, and third beat Gbs. Remember that the descending notes of each beat mirror exactly the ascending notes.
For the same reasons as given for bar 13, it is better not to slur the whole measure together.

Measures 23-24

In the second beat, start with the regular Eb fingering, then immediately switch to the trill fingering (second trill key).
Despite the implied accelerando, take enough time on the third beat so that the quarter note does not sound like an 8th. The same observation applies to the second bet of bar 24.
Give special attention to controlling the three grace notes leading up to the Bb fermata. The excitement of the previous build-up can cause you to play the grace notes so fast that it becomes difficult for the listener (or for you) to hear a clear three-note scale.
Debussy omits dynamic markings altogether in bars 20-24, but the performer has been given responsibility here because of the Rubato indication. The musical tensions so strongly developed in these five bars give us plenty of encouragement for a healthy crescendo, especially in bars 23 and 24. One must be careful, however, not to exaggerate.

Measures 25-26

Too many players ignore the third beat Bb and simply play the recap of the theme without Debussy’s suspenseful “extra” beat.
Observe the crescendo here (which was not indicated in the first statement of the theme). It culminates in an implied forte in bar 27, the last climax of the piece.

Measure 27

Again, the breathing comma at the beginning of this bar is highly questionable.
Doublecheck your note accuracy in the second beat. The Ebb is often played as an Eb.
Be sure to hold the third beat properly across the barline. This is comparable to the “extra” beat feeling going into bar 26.

Measures 29-30

Ration your crescendo carefully toward the Gb, but don’t let down too suddenly for the diminuendo. Some subtle changes of nuance can be explored in bar 30, but don’t indulge in a cliché echo effect. Debussy did not mark it that way.
The triple-duple rhythmic contrast is often marred here by rushing the second beat, but I have also heard a recording by one well-known player who plays the second beat so slowly that the 16ths sound like 8ths! (It was probably to compensate for the overly fast triplets of the first beat.)

Measures 31-32

Because of the risky fingering change from the low Db to the grace note Gb in the second beat, the Gb is often unclear. Slow practice with the aid of a mirror should improve your control. One tempting solution not recommended is to keep the Db key down during the entire triplet. This dulls and flattens the F and E natural. On the contrary, the little finger should get to the Eb key in time for the F, remain there for the E natural, then at the end of the E natural jump over (not slide) to the Db key as the third finger gets ready to go down. In other words, all the notes in the second beat are to be fingered normally except for the Gb, for which the little finger can be up.
So that 1. the A natural will not sound too loud, and 2. the following diminuendo will be more effective, give a tiny crescendo at the very end of the first beat.
Contrary to the admonitions given for bar 31, here you should keep the little finger on the Db key. It will not dull the A natural and G natural, but will ensure optimum legato.

Measures 33-35

Don’t diminish the Db so much that it gives the impression of being the final note, thus spoiling the dying-away effect of the final Db two bars later. Rather, release it quietly but with a slight feeling of suspense so that the listener knows there is one last phrase yet to be heard. (The same caution applies to the Db tied over from bar 30.)
The accent (marqué) is usually done by means of a sudden vibrato intensification.
Considering the long value of the B natural tied over from bar 33, the gradual slowing down of the tempo from bar 31 (En retenant jusqu’à la fin) and the Trés retenu of bar 34, it would seem that the inner pulse feeling would by now be so feeble that it would be useless to attempt a precise rhythmic rendering of the final descending whole-tone scale (five notes divided into two beats). Nevertheless, the pacing of this scale is so important – it can easily be done much too fast or too slow – that one should study it closely. It is not too difficult to feel the penta-rhythmic pulse of this bar if you establish it immediately on the first beat (the marqué accent will be a helpful stimulus), so it will be instructive to practice it first this way:

Then:

In the example immediately above, I have attempted to give a realization of the grace note that exemplifies the final sigh of resignation of this piece. By relating it to the inner penta-rhythmic pulse of the preceding bar, I believe that the proper expression can be obtained more easily. The Eb at the end of bar 34 should be diminished slightly (and quickly) in order to set off the grace note more effectively, but be careful not to let the sound actually stop at the barline.
The final Db is a very long note, so postpone your final diminuendo until about the third beat so that the sound is not lost prematurely. Keep the vibrato going as long as possible – a fairly fast, shimmering kind of vibrato that gives the impression that it is continuing into infinity.

This article originally ran in the February 1976 edition of The Instrumentalist with the following: ©1927, renewed 1954, Jobert. Paris, France. Used by permission of the publisher. Theodore Presser Company, sole representative, Canada, U.S, Mexico.

*A lengthy but fascinating analysis of Syrinx, emphasizing the details of Debussy’s compositional style, appears in William W. Austin’s book, Music in the 20th Century (New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1966), pages 7-15.

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Reflections at 95 A Conversation with Walfrid Kujala

theinstrumenta — Sat, 15 Feb 2020 23:46:32 +0000

On February 19, 2020, Walfrid Kujala will turn 95 years old. He has had three major careers spanning decades: Chicago Symphony piccolo, Northwestern University flute professor, and writer. In the summers he continues to teach masterclasses, especially those devoted to piccolo study.

Through the years he has had a close relationship with The Instrumentalist and Flute Talk magazines. His first article, Jawboning and the Flute Embouchure, was split into three parts and published in the September, November, and December 1971 issues of The Instrumentalist. In other articles he wrote about Advice for Future College Flutists, The Benefits of Inflation, A Brief History of Flute Design, Cleaner Technique, The Five W’s of the Major Scale, Flute Fingerings, Flutists’ Common Mistakes, High Notes, and The Kincaid Legacy among others. He also wrote performance guides for Andersen Scherzino, Bizet L’Arlesienne Suite, and Syrinx, and his article on Embellishment, Italian Style: Ornamenting the Largo movement of Vivaldi’s C Major Piccolo Concerto is the most requested article by flutist scholars. (See , Feb. 2017 when it was reprinted).
Kujala is a graduate of the Eastman School of Music where he studied with Joseph Mariano with additional studies with William Kincaid, principal flute of the Philadelphia Orchestra and flute professor at The Curtis Institute. Many of the major orchestras in the United States are proud to have a former Kujala student in their flute and piccolo sections.

You have had successful careers as an orchestral player, university professor, and writer of articles and flute method books. How did each of these come about?
In 1939 my dad, August Kujala, became principal bassoonist and librarian of the Huntington, West Virginia Symphony, which at that time was a semi-professional orchestra funded in part by the Federal Music Project. (We had moved to Huntington from Clarksburg, West Virginia.) Dad was part of the core orchestra of the HSO consisting of twenty-five professional musicians augmented by forty volunteer part-timers from the tri-state area (Ohio, Kentucky and West Virginia). Though they made their living in other fields, a surprisingly large number of those volunteers were extremely competent, dedicated players. Luckily, a few high school students like me were invited to fill some of the positions, and I got to play second flute and piccolo, a position that I held for four years until I graduated from high school.
The principal flutist was Parker Taylor. He was gracious enough to take me on as a pupil, and for the first time in almost three years I had the opportunity to study formally with an artist flute teacher – and also have the honor of sitting next to him in the orchestra (a remarkable privilege I would again experience eight years later in the Rochester Philharmonic with Joseph Mariano).
Taylor was a graduate of the Eastman School of Music, having studied with Leonardo De Lorenzo (who was just retiring) and his successor, Joseph Mariano. Taylor’s style of playing was a remarkable blend of the technical discipline derived from De Lorenzo and the wonderful tonal expressiveness and musicality learned from Mariano.
Playing in the Huntington Sym-phony for four years proved to be an especially valuable experience for me. We had a new conductor, Raymond Schoewe, who was top-notch. He had resigned from the Cincinnati Sym-phony first violin section to take the Huntington Symphony conducting post. He had also previously played in the Boston Symphony after having graduated from the New England Conservatory. Schoewe’s concert programming was wide-ranging, and as I look back on it now, I am utterly amazed at the enormity of the symphonic repertoire that we covered. It laid a solid foundation for my future career as a professional orchestral player in the Rochester Philharmonic, Chicago Symphony, and the Grant Park Symphony.
As far as my teaching career was concerned, I had taught some private lessons during my student days in high school and at the Eastman School of Music, but it was not until my 1949-54 Rochester Philharmonic stint (after having served in the army for three years during World War II) that I had the marvelous opportunity of honing my teaching skills in the Eastman Preparatory Department. Most of my students there were middle school and high school age, but I also taught a few Eastman freshmen and sophomores flute majors when Mariano’s teaching schedule became too much for him to handle.
I took a special interest in helping students improve their embouchure control, using a more scientific approach than was typically taught in the teaching literature of that time. This eventually became the basis for my very first book, published in 1970, The Flutist’s Progress. That is when I began to take my new writing career more seriously. Many of my articles in The Instrumentalist, Flute Talk, and Flutist Quarterly have continued this quest, and I am continuing to research other topics for possible publication.
I wrote all four of my books primarily with my Northwestern students and summer masterclass students in the back of my mind. The Orchestral Techniques – An Audition Guide book represents my philosophy that a thorough working knowledge of the orchestral repertoire for flute and piccolo is just as important as the solo repertoire for those instruments. The scale and arpeggio material in the Flutist’s Vade Mecum kept growing steadily over the years, so The Articulate Flutist actually represents the overflow of much of that material.

What was your audition for the Chicago Symphony like?
Wow! How drastically things have changed since my audition for the Chicago Symphony 66 years ago. Nowadays we take it for granted that virtually all current vacancies in American and Canadian professional symphony orchestras are listed in the International Musician, which is the monthly journal of the American Federation of Musicians (AFM). However, that did not become standard policy until about 1965. Before then all of us aspiring musicians had to keep our detective skills highly polished to find out about possible vacancies.
Conductors of the so-called Big Five orchestras, New York Philharmonic, Boston Symphony, Chicago Symphony, Philadelphia, and Cleveland Orch-estras, were very much in demand as guest conductors for lower tier orchestras. They would often look upon these orchestras like farm teams where they could spot talented up-and-coming players for future recruitment. They also relied on well-known contractors like Joe Fabbroni, who was Fritz Reiner’s agent in New York, for recommendations.
Conductors of many lower tier orchestras would visit conservatories like Juilliard, Curtis, New England, Cleveland Institute, Peabody, and Eastman to hold auditions. For instance, in the spring of 1943, Hans Kindler, conductor of the National Symphony, visited Eastman to hold auditions for the NSO. I auditioned just for the experience and was pleasantly surprised to receive in the mail a contract for second flute, which I had to turn down because of my impending military draft. This whole scenario should give one a clearer appreciation of the dilemma facing aspiring symphony players in the thirties, forties and fifties.
In 1954, my direct knowledge of a vacancy in the Chicago Symphony came about by sheer chance because the CSO’s new music director Fritz Reiner had offered Mariano the principal flute position. Mariano, much to everyone’s surprise, turned it down. Mariano told me that it was highly probable that there would be two more vacancies in the flute section and that I should apply.
Here was the frustrating thing. The auditions for all eleven of the CSO’s vacancies (almost all of them due to firings!) were to be held in New York in January during Reiner’s mid-season break. (His home was in Westport, Connecticut, within commuting distance of New York.) The CSO’s regular personnel manager had very little to do with audition arrangements. Instead, all of the auditions were set up by Joe Fabbroni, Reiner’s New York agent. I was advised to call him, and he turned me down flatly.
I then asked Erich Leinsdorf, the Rochester Philharmonic’s music director (and my boss), to call Fabbroni to recommend me. (Leinsdorf had known Fabbroni quite well during Leinsdorf’s previous years as music director of the Metropolitan Opera.) Leinsdorf asked me to listen in while he phoned Fabbroni, and I was totally surprised to hear his effusive compliments to Fabbroni about my beautiful playing.
That did it! Fabbroni called me back to set an audition time for the afternoon of January 11, 1954 at the New York City Center Theatre on 55th Street. Reiner was surprisingly friendly, and the audition went well. I began with my solo piece, the Bach B Minor Suite, after which Reiner proceeded to pull out some first flute parts from his briefcase for me to play. They were all standard works. No surprises. (He was famous for pulling out unexpected, tricky excerpts in auditions, and of course, there were no pre-announced audition repertoire lists in those antediluvian days.)
After I finished my audition, much to my surprise, Reiner immediately began talking about contract terms. He offered me a choice of either assistant principal flute or principal piccolo. Having already garnered much piccolo experience in the Rochester Phil, I felt it was the opportune time to widen my horizons, so I opted for the assistant principal flute position. Reiner subsequently engaged Ben Gaskins as principal piccolo. Ben had already built a distinguished career as the former piccoloist of the Cleveland Orchestra, New York Philharmonic, and Arturo Toscanini’s NBC Symphony. For the next three years the CSO flute section consisted of Ernest Liegl, principal flute, Ralph Johnson, second flute, Ben Gaskins, principal piccolo, and me as assistant principal flute.

How did you eventually become principal piccolo?
It’s an extraordinarily sad story, but this is how it happened. The Chicago Symphony program for the weekend of March 28, 1957, with Reiner conducting, consisted of the Goldmark In Springtime Overture, the Rachmaninoff Isle of the Dead, and the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2 with Rudolph Serkin as soloist. Only three flutes were needed for this program, so I had the week off. Friday morning, March 29th, Ben Gaskins phoned me, and in an almost sobbing tone of voice as if in dire pain, said, “Wally, I know you’ve got the week off, but would you mind doing me a great favor and sub for me at this afternoon’s concert? I’ve got a really bad toothache, and my dentist says he can treat it this afternoon.”
I was glad to help out and drove to Orchestra Hall early enough to review and practice the third flute and piccolo parts to the Goldmark and Rachmaninoff. (I had listened to one of the earlier rehearsals that week, so I was already familiar with Reiner’s tempos and interpretation.) There were only two flutes required for the Brahms concerto, but I stayed to listen to Rudolph Serkin who was one of my favorite pianists.
When I returned home, I anxiously called Ben’s house to see if he was feeling better, His wife answered the phone, crying and barely able to talk, and told me that Ben had committed suicide. What a terrible shock that was! For the remaining few weeks of the 1956-57 season it was my responsibility to cover all the piccolo parts, and then Reiner appointed me as Ben Gaskins’ official replacement.

Your performances of the Vivaldi Piccolo Concertos are legendary. How did you prepare the ornamentation of the Largo movement?
I did a lot of reading in my preparation. Some of the sources I used include: Ornamentation in Baroque and Post-Baroque Music by Frederick Neumann (Princeton Univ. Press), A Performer’s Guide to Baroque Music by Robert Donington (Scribers), On Playing the Flute by J.J. Quantz (Schirmer), Chapters 13 and 14. The opening slow movements of Tele-mann’s Twelve Methodical Sonatas for Flute and Continuo also have very instructive examples of extempore variations. The Minuet movement of J.S. Bach’s C Major Sonata also benefits from extempore variations as demonstrated so beautifully on the recorder by Michala Petri in her recently released recording of the J. S. Bach sonatas.

How did you select students while teaching at Northwestern?
Northwestern has always had a strong pool of applicants in all instrument categories, and a music admissions department that does an excellent job in recruiting applicants. It was always challenging for me to rank applicants fairly in such a manner that we could look forward to seeing an accepted student complete the four-year undergraduate program with a high degree of success. All applicants had to have a high school grade-point average that met Northwestern University’s high academic standards, and on a few occasions, I would be disappointed if an applicant with a very high audition score was automatically rejected by the university admissions office due to a mediocre high school grade-point average.
In auditions I listened for a good sense of musical phrasing, attractive tone quality, strong technique, and above all, a good sense of rhythm. Careless attention to rhythm is often a reliable predictor of poor musicianship and limited chances for future professional success.

How did you structure your four-year undergraduate curriculum?
I always tried to strike a good balance between traditional repertoire and new music. Back in 1973 I constructed a basic curriculum design that was divided into four parts. List A was the standard list of 34 flute solos, List B had 38 solos (including piccolo) that a student was encouraged to explore, and List C contained 51 more solos (including piccolo) that could be considered for adding on to post-graduate recital programs. By 2013 I had added 3 and subtracted 2 solos from List A. For List B, I added 20 solos and subtracted 3, and for List C I added 18 and subtracted 6.
There is not enough room here to post a detailed list of all these solos, but I would like to share my preferences for etudes (which constituted my list D): Andersen (mainly op. 33 and 15), Karg-Elert 30 Caprices, Genzmer Neuzeitlich Etuden (2 vol.), Casterede 12 Etudes, Bonsel 8 Concert Etudes, Bitsch 12 Etudes, and selected Marcel Moyse and Robert Dick
volumes.
By the way, I am a strong believer in the importance of recording students’ lessons so that they have the immediate opportunity of reviewing their performances and my comments. This tradition goes all the way back to the days of cassette tapes, around 1987, and through the CD era to 2012, when I retired from Northwestern. I would always hand over the recording to the student at the end of each lesson.

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Exercises for Success, Balancing Symmetry and Asymmetry

theinstrumenta — Sat, 15 Feb 2020 23:30:14 +0000

Playing the flute requires an asymmetrical stance and balancing position, but there are activities that can mitigate that lopsidedness so that breathing is freer, and the body does not get in the way of a great performance. People are roughly symmetrical on the outside (two arms, two legs, two eyes, etc.), but there are many internal asymmetries that have a profound effect upon the way we subconsciously stand, move, and breathe. The heart is on the left; the right lung has three lobes; the left one has only two; the right half of the diaphragm is larger than the left; the liver is on the right; and so on.
Flutists tend to stand on the right leg with the left hip dropped and the left leg rotated outward. The right side of the thorax is bent to the right, limiting rib movement. There are many more differences, but just imagine Michelangelo’s statue of David to get a general idea. One way to offset these tendencies is to turn off some muscles and turn on others. The goal is to create a natural and even subconscious way of using the body symmetrically. The following techniques are physical and relatively easy to do. Add them to your practice sessions now to be in tiptop shape for upcoming performances this spring.

Shifting Weight
While you are playing, shift your weight back and forth while standing or sitting. Move from the left foot to the right, or if sitting, from the right ischial tuberosity (sits bone) to the left. This back-and-forth movement breaks up muscular tension, allowing your ribs and thorax to move more easily during the quick inspirations and long slow exhalations required by flute playing.

Reaching
Reaching forward helps to open the back between and below the shoulder blades, an area especially important in expansion of the ribs and the spaces outside of them. While sitting in a chair, take a breath in through your nose and then slowly exhale while you reach forward with your left arm. Keep the left side of your back against the back of the chair. Pause for three seconds and then inhale through your nose again and try to reach a little further as you exhale out. Repeat for a total of four times. Continue on with your practicing and see if breathing seems easier.

Blowing Up a Balloon
This activity is an amazing way to promote optimal posture and neuromuscular control of the deep abdominals, diaphragm, and pelvic floor. As you sit in a chair, bend to the left side so that you are leaning on the armrest (if there is one). Inhale through your nose and gently and slowly, partially exhale into the balloon. Pause three seconds with the tongue on the roof of the mouth to prevent airflow out of the balloon.
Without pinching the neck of the balloon and while keeping the tongue on the roof of the mouth, inhale again through the nose. Slowly blow out again into the balloon. Repeat four times. Then pinch the balloon neck, remove it from your mouth and let the air out. See if your breath control feels better now during playing. (It is okay to cheat and pinch off the balloon between breaths if you have to.)

Reaching while blowing up a balloon

Bow and Arrow
Assume a position as if you are shooting an imaginary bow and arrow with the right arm reaching forward (as if holding the bow) and the left arm back (as if pulling string and holding arrow). This is the opposite position to holding a flute. The left leg should be in front with your weight on it, and your right hip should be forward. Use the same breathing techniques as explained in reaching. Returning to your regular flute stance should feel freer and easier and your breathing deeper.

Left Front Lower Ribs
Because of the asymmetrical set-up of the thorax, rib depression of the left front lower ribcage is limited. An easy way to get this area of the ribcage to move further down and in during exhalation is to simple place your hands over that area and assist the ribs to move down and in as you exhale through the mouth fully. Curve your spine forward as you slowly exhale. Pause three seconds and then inhale through the nose and then exhale again as you push more with your hands and curl downward even more. Repeat for a total of four times and then slowly return to an upright position. Do the whole thing for a total of four to five times. Getting the left front lower ribs to do a more effective job during exhalation puts the left side of the diaphragm into a more curved position to match that of the right side, allowing you a longer more controlled exhale. When playing on a long exhale, this is an important movement to emphasize.

Left Foot Focus
Push your left heel and arch into the floor as you play, whether sitting or standing. This sparks the facilitation of a chain of muscles on the left side that goes up to the left diaphragm and helps it get into the best position for proper breathing. Note that this would be harder to accomplish in high heel shoes. Just thinking about it momentarily while you are playing will improve your breathing. This is why everyone is told to play with both feet on the floor.

Tongue Reaches
This simple workout is a great plug-in when you need a short break from practicing. The beauty of it is that it increases the awareness of where your tongue is and how it moves. Repeat the following three exercises five times each. First, move the tip of your tongue toward your nose and then toward your chin. Next, touch each of the lower back molars, going back and forth between right and left. Repeat this but touching the upper back molars instead of the lower ones. As a reminder, the resting position for the tongue is on the roof of your mouth.

Play Long-Sitting
Long-sitting is sitting on the floor with your legs out straight in front of you. This position gives you the opportunity to feel your left back against the wall and work on improving its expansion. You can do the reaching technique, blowing up a balloon, or play your flute in this position. When playing the flute, be sure that your head is turned to the left about 45 degrees and that the right end of the flute angles away from the wall.

Left Stance
Sing, recite poetry, cook, and practice in left stance. This is not to say that you should stand only on the left, but rather to try to stand on your left leg more than you would have otherwise. Feel the left arch and heel as they come into contact with floor. The goal of this left focus is to get you to do this automatically. This will spill over into your flute playing, freeing up breathing and reducing tension.

Take a Hike
Go for a walk and focus on the reciprocal motion (the back and forth repetitive movement) of your arms. Try to have nothing in your hands (like a phone) so you can focus on a full and even arm swing. You should feel your thorax rotate as well even though it is a more subtle movement. Walking, as with any other form of aerobic exercise, should be included as part of the practice routine.

Squatting
Sitting is actually a passive squat and is not a natural position for human beings. Anyone can do a real squat; it is not just for weightlifters. By adding a breathing component, you get more bang for your buck. It is a strengthening exercise for the body and a breathing exercise for flute playing. To begin, keep your feet shoulder width apart and pointed straight ahead. Arms are straight out ahead for balance. Round out your back as you tuck your bottom under you. Keep your weight through your heels as you lower your body down as far as you are able without losing balance. Hold for four to five deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth. Attempt to fill or expand the upper back chest wall with air on each inhalation. On the final exhale, slowly stand up by pushing through your heels and keeping your back rounded. Relax and repeat four more times. Pick up your flute again and see how you sound.

Change It Up
Cross the opposite arm or leg than you usually do. Sleep on the opposite side of the bed or on your opposite side. Watch TV from the other side of the room. Sit in a different place in the classroom or at church. Hold the book you are reading in the hand that feels more awkward. Sit on the opposite side of the bus or subway than you usually do. All of these things will help wake up your body to symmetry, making you more physically balanced.

Monkey Bars
Hang from a bar and let your shoulders stretch out evenly. Be careful not to hurt yourself; this is not a good exercise if you have shoulder problems. If using a bar indoors such as the spring bar kind that you can put in a door well, gradually increase the percentage of your weight that you let hang. Thirty seconds is a good time to aim for. If you are on the younger side or have students who are, go to a park with monkey bars, and make it a habit to go down and back on them. It is great for stretching, strengthening, mitigating the effects of gravity, and emphasizing alternating, reciprocal motion. It is beneficial to get out of the standard position for holding the flute and teach the body to easily shift from left to right and back again.
As always, if you have not exercised lately, check with your doctor first to make sure it is okay. These exercises are intended for asymptomatic individuals. If you have any shoulder limitations, take extra care. These movements should not cause pain. A little soreness the next day is okay, but if it is not gone by the third day, you did too much and should back off.
The bulk of these ideas came from my studies with The Postural Restoration Institute, an astute group of physical therapists dedicated to investigating and understanding the neuromuscular mechanisms of the human body as it moves. More information can be found at .

Thanks to TCU flutist Becca Carter for demonstrating the exercises in the photo illustrations.

The post Exercises for Success, Balancing Symmetry and Asymmetry appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

A Conversation with Judith Mendenhall

theinstrumenta — Sat, 15 Feb 2020 23:16:23 +0000

Judith Mendenhall has created a multi-faceted career as a soloist, chamber and orchestral musician, and teacher. She is the principal flutist of the American Ballet Theatre Orchestra and a member of the Berkshire Bach Ensemble and flute professor and chair of the wind department at the Mannes School of Music.

How did you start playing the flute?
I grew up in Minneapolis in a family of musicians – parents, uncles, cousins. My dad was a great trumpet player who free-lanced in the Twin Cities, and taught junior high band. My mom was a junior high vocal music teacher. She was also a talented painter, illustrator, poet, and writer. I was the oldest of four children, and our home was a fun and creative place to grow up. My parents inspired me with a passion for music, and I started the piano at age four. They also instilled a strong work ethic and the value of doing something you love and doing it well. In fourth grade I began playing the flute that my dad had bought when I was a baby and had tucked away in a drawer until I was older.
I never actually chose to play the flute. It was simply something I always knew was in store for me. While I don’t regret my dad’s choice for me, I have often secretly wished that I played the oboe, as I love its depth and dark color. (I think I would even like reed making.) According to my dad, I took to the flute like a duck to water although I vividly remember feeling faint and dizzy trying to get a sound out of it at first.
My dad loved Mozart, whose birthday we celebrated every year by making a cake. Each of us kids had to play something by Mozart before eating the cake. I also have fond memories of borrowing my dad’s baton, putting on an LP of Beethoven’s 7th, and standing in the living room conducting.
Emil Opava was one of my early flute teachers. He played principal flute in the Minnesota Orchestra and came from the Curtis Institute and William Kincaid. His powerful sound and exciting playing made a strong impact on me. My high school had a fabulous music program. The discipline and high standards instilled by our band director were inspiring, and I began to thirst for broader horizons and a real conservatory experience, which led me to Boston and New England Conservatory.
At NEC, where I studied with James Pappoutsakis, I found myself in the big pond for which I had yearned. I was excited to be there but also remember walking down the halls past practice rooms and hearing such impressive playing that I sometimes felt inadequate and behind. I took this as a challenge. My coping strategy was to get up early each morning and practice for a good two hours before classes began. I was determined to prove myself. My work paid off, and my confidence grew.
Upon graduating, I went to Paris for a year. I applied for, and was awarded a French Government Grant through the Fulbright Committee. I studied privately with Michel Debost and was part of an international group of musicians who were presented in concerts around Paris. This opportunity merged my love of the French language, art, and music. Being suddenly immersed in a foreign culture pulls the rug out from underneath a person and takes away all familiar points of reference. It forced me to learn many ways to adapt, rebuild, survive, and thrive. My world vision was greatly expanded.

What was Debost like as a teacher?
He was a wonderful teacher who emphasized stability – in stance, holding the flute, sound production, and technique. He demonstrated a lot, and it was a joy to hear his command and fluidity. If there was a difficult passage in the piece, he would say “Never work out your technique just on the piece, itself. Take the technical issue and make up your own exercises related to the passage. Practice other things that are similar, become so solid that you can then return to your piece and be able to play it.” He was a very generous and kind teacher. My lessons at his home would often end with lunch with his family. Early on in my studies with him, he invited me to turn pages for his Poulenc Sonata recording and afterwards took me on a tour of the Louvre. To this day I credit him with awakening my love of great art.

What did you do after the year in Paris?
I came back from Paris to NEC for my MM and to resume studies with Pappoutsakis. The week before school started, my roommate came home one day with a record and said, “Listen to this! There’s a brand-new flute teacher at NEC, Paula Robison. Here is her recording with Beverly Sills.” The moment the needle hit the LP, it was like that moment at the beginning of The Wizard of Oz when the house lands, and the movie changes from black and white to color. I heard a flute sound that I had never ever heard before. It was like the Siren’s call, and I had no choice but to heed it and immediately sought out Paula Robison. Little did I know then that she would become not only my teacher and mentor for life, but now my most cherished colleague and friend.
Paula is as gifted a teacher as she is an artist. She had me working out of Moyse’s Tone Development Through Interpretation – not just playing the opera arias, but going to the library to listen to singers. My goal became playing with the same lyricism and line, passion and drama, as the great singers I had been hearing. Moyse’s book became my Bible. Because Paula had worked on the book with Moyse, I was receiving a lineage of wisdom.
She always insisted on playing with clear intention and purpose. She made me go deeper into the music and into my own expressive powers, revealing a whole new world to me. She insisted on a tone full of life. It had to be colorful, beautiful and varied. I remember playing for her in lessons, finally achieving what she was after. She would then say, “Now do it again.’’ She wanted to make sure I fully understood how and what I had just done and could reproduce it. This is a hallmark of a great teacher: someone who has the dedication and patience to go back to square one if necessary and repeat the whole learning process if it has not sunk in.
The privilege of hearing Paula play so many recitals and concerts was a crucial part of studying with her. She breathed a logic, brilliance, and magic into everything she played. After hearing her, I felt I knew exactly what I wanted out of a piece.
After my official lessons with Paula ended, she continued to teach me over the next couple years for no fee. She said that Samuel Baron had done that for her years before on the condition that she do the same for someone else someday. That I could be her someone else was beyond my wildest dreams. She imparted to me the same condition that Sam had to her. It has now become a kind of chain letter out into the world as my students find their someone else and continue the tradition.

How did your professional career start?
Another pivotal moment in my life came during that year at NEC with Paula. She recommended me to a group of musicians at the Marlboro Music Festival in Vermont. A wind quintet of top players was forming, and they needed a flutist. I auditioned and became the flutist and founding member of the Aulos Wind Quintet. We moved to Philadelphia and were quintet in residence at the Curtis Institute. We were coached by Marcel Moyse and Sol Schoenbach, principal bassoon of the Philadelphia Orchestra. We were given professional management, tours around the country and invited to participate at the Marlboro Festival for many summers.
Performing nationwide with the Aulos Wind Quintet launched my career. We won the 1978 Walter Naumburg Chamber Music Award and commissioned the Quintet for Winds by John Harbison, which has become a staple of the repertoire. It was at the Marlboro Music Festival that I matured as a musician. The hallmark of Marlboro is that chamber groups are formed by combining young professionals with legendary musicians from around the world. The experience of rehearsing and performing alongside a world-class musician as a colleague is a game changer. Beautiful tone, robust espressivo, musical truth – these were strong values at Marlboro. I began to find my own voice.

How did you come to study with Marcel Moyse?
I met Marcel Moyse at Marlboro. He was larger than life and quintessentially French – debonair, buoyant, and elegant. He was also tyrannical, opinionated, and occasionally cruel. And, we all adored him. His French accent was thick, his sports coats hung loosely around his aged frame, but he was ever robust, mischievous, and passionate.
He would often sit with students after coachings at Marlboro with a glass of Pernod. He would regale us with stories of how he grew up as an orphan and shepherd boy in the French Alps, his first lesson with Gaubert and work with Taffanel, and his collaborations with Ravel, Stravinsky, and Debussy. He described in detail his rehearsals with a dying Debussy on the Sonata for flute, viola, and harp and how critical and exacting the composer was. He told us how he came to write Tone Development Through Interpretation after playing first flute in the Opera Comique. His goal with the book was to expand the flutist’s tonal and expressive range to that of a great singer.
I worked with Moyse at Marlboro and at Curtis in both chamber music settings and private lessons. I studied French repertoire including Syrinx, works by Mozart, and pieces from the great school of flutist-composers such as Boehm, Kuhlau, and Doppler. His metaphors and images were vivid, often related to nature, and always to the human experience. He demanded absolute attention to every detail as well as the big picture. A musician had to tell a story. A sonority had to be alive and colorful. Players had to have many tone colors up their sleeves, had to go the full spectrum from passion to poignancy, from drama to mystery. Above all, a person had to play with love. When carelessness allowed a harsh or raw sound to escape, he would say, “Kiss me, don’t kick me.” He could be derisive when someone played badly or indifferently, but his praise could lift you to heaven.
Moyse’s demanding approach was actually what made him such a great teacher. You did exactly what he told you – there was no other way. (You dared not, but you also trusted him completely.) After studying a piece with Moyse, your interpretation told a compelling story. Your tone had somehow acquired more radiance and depth as your expressive powers deepened. He left an indelible mark on all who worked with him.

How did you start your career?
I believe this point in life when one is fresh out of college and ready to start a career is the most difficult phase for any young musician. Just knowing that up front is helpful. Perhaps it was easier back when I was starting because the economy, rents, and status of the arts in general were more favorable than now, but it was still difficult. I never won that orchestra job I wanted, although I came come close a few times. Instead, I carved out a multi-faceted career in New York City that has been rich and rewarding. Along the way I have had many rejections, failures, and bad performances. These are part of everyone’s trajectory. I could fill volumes with my failures. I was also incredibly fortunate to have had mentors and colleagues who believed in me, opened doors, and gave me golden opportunities. I also always worked extremely hard to raise my standards, expand, and grow as an artist.
My career has been a series of stepping stones. I started freelancing in New York and built a solo, chamber music, orchestral, and teaching career. Some highlights were frequent performances with Paula Robison at the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center and at her Metropolitan Museum series, being a founding member of the Music Today Ensemble under Gerard Schwarz (performing newly written works and many New York and world premieres), chamber music with New York Philomusica, and solo recitals at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the 92nd St Y.
In 1987 I became principal flutist of the New York Chamber Symphony. The position had been Thomas Nyfenger’s, but illness forced him to resign. This was not through an audition, but by appointment from Gerard Schwarz with whom I had been working in the Music Today group. That experience taught me how to play principal flute in an orchestra. Schwarz was an important mentor for me and an exciting and great conductor. The season was substantial with glorious repertoire, including Beethoven, Brahms, Ravel, as well as many contemporary works. Each year around New Year’s, we performed the complete Brandenburg Concertos for five nights in a row. My tenure lasted through 2002 when the orchestra was discontinued.
A major turning point came when I started playing with the harpsichordist Kenneth Cooper. Making music with Kenneth was exciting and unleashed permission to be wildly creative while staying true to Baroque conventions and style. Kenneth’s unique mastery of ornamentation taught me how to color outside the lines. Kenneth is an impassioned virtuoso whose rhythmic vitality is unsurpassed. I became a founding member of the Berkshire Bach Ensemble, a core group of winds, strings, and harpsichord which performs regularly in the Berkshires and East coast.

What is it like playing with the American Ballet Theatre Orchestra?
My audition for ABT in 1996 was trial by fire – playing an entire eight-week season. I had never played ballet before then. I had to learn eight to ten different ballets including Swan Lake, Don Quixote, and Prokofiev’s Cinderella. The flute parts in ballet are huge and demanding with pages of pyrotechnical passages and high-wire acts as well as many beautiful, lyrical solos. They are far more dense than symphonic repertoire. I never worked harder in my life for anything. I learned each ballet as though it was a flute concerto, including every tutti passage, trying to get the right feeling and dynamic for every entrance. That season, I would see colleagues during breaks with snacks and coffee and had no idea where they got them. I had some vague notion that there was a cafeteria down the hall, but I never once went there. I just stayed in my chair reviewing the next act. Looking back I see this as a poignant indication of what the pressures can sometimes be like in the music profession.
Playing in ABT is thrilling and exciting. The repertoire is often glorious – Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet and Strauss’s Whipped Cream being at the top of my list. Sometimes we play symphonic repertoire such as the Brahms’ Haydn Variations or Shostakovich’s 9th Symphony. My colleagues in the wind section are the finest, and we have a great time together.
Three of the most important parts of having this job are projection, stamina, and consistency.
Projection: The Met Opera House is vast and cavernous. The pit has wonderful acoustics, but nevertheless, there is an imperative to play with a powerful sound that will fill up the hall. I find myself going into extra training before and during the ABT season, both with practicing and running.
Stamina: Ballets are long. Three acts require a lot of concentration and focus, not to mention physical endurance. Getting enough sleep, healthy meals, and exercise is crucial.
Consistency: We repeat each ballet eight times a week. This means you need to “hit it out of the park” consistently. I learned early on how to practice every solo so that I could replicate my ideal version over and over. Basically this meant playing the solo just as I wanted it and noticing exactly how it sounded and felt throughout my entire body. This imprinting is key for consistency.
Further Suggestions: Learn to be consistent. Be able to play excerpts over and over within a 5% margin of error. Learn some of the ballet repertoire just for fun. It will stretch your playing and you will be ahead of the game when you actually play it.

How did you get the Mannes position?
Back in 1989 Tom Nyfenger was the flute professor at Mannes and Yale. He took the Oberlin position and asked me to take his place at both Mannes and Yale, with him providing occasional team-teaching and guidance. I was young, and it was daunting at times, but I learned from his advice and by jumping straight into it. After Tom’s death, I was given the Mannes position, which became a central part of my life. As wind department chair, I have worked to create a strong program. I have eleven flute students this year and also coach chamber groups and teach flute class, wind class, and wind pedagogy. I oversee the progress and trajectories of all the wind players. When they graduate, I want them to be prepared and ready for the high standards of the professional music world.

What summer festivals do you attend?
Every June I travel to the Interlochen Flute Institute where I teach and perform with Nancy Stagnitta and Paula Robison. I also teach a session at the Aria International Summer Academy in Massachusetts. These festivals are often times of creative growth spurts for both students and teachers. I have also traveled to Taiwan for four summers for masterclass and recital tours as part of a festival created by a wonderful Taiwanese flutist who is a Mannes graduate.

What is your Practice Pyramid?
Bullet-proof technique and tone production are high priorities and set the stage for convincing musicianship. My Practice Pyramid is a template for how I see myself and all musicians. It is a pyramid with three layers: Solid Skills; Musical Intelligence; and Ideas, Imagination, Inspiration. In any college audition, I am looking for a player for whom I can check off all three layers.
Solid Skills: This refers to the foundation of tone, technique, rhythm, articulation, breath control, intonation.
Musical Intelligence: These are things one can see and hear, including composer, century, style, movement marking (Cantabile, Vivace), tempo, sequences, harmonies, cadences, phrase lengths, etc.
Ideas, Imagination, Inspiration: The tip of the pyramid is that element of magic, something like a hotline from the page to your heart.
My advice to students is to get the bottom two layers really solid. Then the magic tip will begin to flow naturally into your playing.

What is the number one deficiency in today’s conservatory students?
They ignore the second layer of the Practice Pyramid of musical intelligence. Their playing is disorganized and bland. I cannot tell what they want or what feeling and character they are trying to convey. They might have a good tone and technique, but they have not really looked at the page, listened, or planned. My mantra for them is to “always have a plan.” My students must organize and bring in a convincing interpretation – to the best of their abilities – to their lessons. To help them, I often give them a template like my cartoon map of the first movement of the J.S. Bach E Major Sonata (right), which shows a little guy walking through hills and mountains, and getting lost. The map follows the exact terrain of the music.
Another deficiency is that some students seem to think they can play the Brahms 4th excerpt without ever having listened to the complete movement or work. I tell them a complete musician knows the piano part and score. Never come into a lesson clueless about the other parts. This would be like learning the Juliet lines without knowing what Romeo is saying.
Another problem is when they come into lessons with problems they could have fixed at home with intelligent practicing. This is a waste of lesson time. I give them my handout of Creative Intelligent Practicing Strategies for fixing problems. I want them to have tools for solving tonal and technical problems on their own before lessons.

What do you focus on with first-year students?
•    Developing a strong work ethic, work habits, and productivity; raising standards and confidence; setting goals; encouraging initiative, leadership, and curiosity.
•    An etude per week from Andersen Op 33 or Berbiguier Etudes.
•    Taffanel et Gaubert #4 scales, memorized.
•    Three to four new orchestral excerpts per semester.
•    Three to four pieces per semester such as: Hüe Fantaisie, Chaminade Concertino, Reinecke Concerto, Taffanel Andante Pastoral and Scherzettino, Burton Sonatina.

How do you teach melody?
•    Sing the melody. This gives a natural flow.
•    Put words to it and sing it. Language gives a natural shape and inflection, plus a sense of pickup/downbeat. The opening of Mozart G Major Concerto can be “You are my one true Sweet-heart!” The opening of the Widor Romance third movement, can be “I love you for-ev-er with all my heart.”
•    I often put stars over the high points or hearts around the love notes on the music.
•    A number system from 1-10 with 10 being the fullest works well with music such as the Franck Sonata first movement, where the flutist must be strategic about building the line.
•    Color code the part. The first page of the Martin Ballade is basically turning smoke into electricity over 43 bars. Color the beginning gray/blue, the middle purple, the end bright, screaming red. Colors get a quicker response than p and mf markings.
• Moyse’s Tone Development Through Interpretation.

Rehearsing with harpsichordist Kenneth Cooper and the Berkshire Bach Ensemble

What do you practice to maintain consistency?
I have a daily warmup packet called Flute Gym made up of various exercises by which I swear, most of which are for tonal beauty, resonance, and power. I like to start by getting lips, air, and fingers working together with one- and two-octave chromatic scales up and down with a metronome. The high note should be open and full. Build the air speed several notes before top. The last, low note should be stable and rich. Elongate the penultimate note to ensure a good touchdown – much as a pilot would make sure the wheels are down before landing the plane. Harmonics and vibrato exercises are also a part of my daily routine. I love doing tone exercises from Bernold’s Vocalises and from Paul Edmund Davies’ The 28 Day Warm-Up Book. Of course, I also work on Taffanel et Gaubert No. 4 scales – four major/minor pairs per day, slurred and tongued.

How do you create your colorful sound?
I am a zealot for exercise and being in good physical shape; for me it’s a combination of running, yoga, and swimming. I want to be grounded, tension-free, aligned. A colorful sound begins with good posture and core strength.

• First, stand tall, head tall, chest up, rib cage lifted, shoulders and elbows relaxed and down. Power up your diaphragm (support). Resonance comes with being open: think three balloons in your chest, three eggs in your mouth (tongue down), and open your throat (think of yawning).

• For proper placement of the flute, rest the flute comfortably in the crook of the chin, lower lip resting fully on the lip plate. The flute should be optimally down on your lip. Lowering the flute a bit means a deeper angle of the air and more overtones. Lowering can give instant color, depth, and flexibility. It also means there is now more lower lip available on top of the lip plate which is a great resource for shaping the air stream. The lowering can be the slightest amount – it may not even be visible. Each person is different. Your ears will judge, and for some people, it is not necessary at all.

• Cover 1/3 to 2/3 of the embouchure hole with your lower lip. Depending on dynamic and register, there should be about 1/3 of the hole open at all times. Sometimes micro rolling out can open up the sound immediately. Lower jaw should be back and down. Blow down. Upper lip will be slightly canopied over the hole. Lips are juicy, flexible, and forward, guiding the air. Control and focus can come by anchoring down the corners of the mouth. There should be no undue pressure of the lip plate against the lip. Think of spinning the air all the way down to the foot joint and getting the tube to vibrate.

Do you have any hobbies to keep stress at bay?
Running, yoga and swimming are my daily practices. I go to a tiny island in Greece every summer where I hike, swim in the Aegean, and paint with watercolors. The freedom and fun of putting colors on paper, not knowing what will emerge, is deeply satisfying. It is a foil for the rigor of being a classical musician.

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Judith Mendenhall has appeared throughout Europe, Asia, and the US as soloist, orchestral musician, chamber musician, and pedagogue. She has been presented in thirteen nationwide “Musicians From Marlboro” tours, has been guest artist with the Cleveland, Concord, Emerson, and Mendelssohn String Quartets, has been an assisting artist at the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, was a founding member of the Naumburg award-winning Aulos Wind Quintet, and a founding member of the Music Today ensemble. She has been principal flute of the New York Chamber Symphony under Gerard Schwarz, the Mostly Mozart Festival, the Grand Teton Music Festival, and the Colorado Music Festival.
Currently flute professor and chair of the wind department at the Mannes School of Music, she received the 2016 Distinguished Teaching Award from The New School University and is a faculty member at Queens College. Her summer festivals include the Interlochen Flute Institute, the Aria Summer Music Academy, and biannual recital and master class tours to Taiwan. She has recorded for Delos, Columbia, Vox, CRI, Koch, Bridge Records, and the Marlboro Recording Society.

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One octave

Two octaves

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